(Left weakened by recent events and old injuries, Maekrux seeks a place to rest that might cost him drastically...)


 Below his lair, near the broken pieces of his once-proud terrace, in the park he had commissioned to bring new life to a dead valley, the group of hatchlings he brought together – Firepride – celebrated their murder.

True, the dragon they had killed had done bad things and acted like a demon and monster, and yes, it might not have been a hatchling at all. But the decision was made.

Firepride consisted of his grandchildren and their friends; the next generation, likely to be the last he would ever see. It made him reflective: at what point did dragons fighting dragons with claws instead of words become commonplace? For the last week he had watched above as Osearir tracked the evil hatchling day and night without pause or rest, seeking to undo an evil like his father before it could manifest; had he been able to catch up, no doubt it would be him celebrating blood. Even the Empire had begun to form search parties for him, likely to execute the non-gifted dragon lest another Fallen Son be born.

What purpose did an old Phoenix serve now? The age of peacemakers was coming to an end.

Perhaps it was exhaustion from tracking the progress of Firepride, being with them without their ever realizing it. Perhaps it was another Ash, forming before the last had cleared. Or perhaps the ache he felt in his bones – one of infirmity and weakness – was truly a sign of his age. Over five hundred years had he lived and could make another five hundred if his predecessors might be believed. But the long-lived dragons of yore eked out their existence upon a cleaner, pristine world that saw little in the way of true conflict: a world without Gifted, without the endless spiral of death those hapless individuals bravely fought.

“Is that what Fading truly is?” Maekrux wondered. “Perhaps those who Fade simply give up and no longer wish to die anymore.”

He also wondered if he could give up. He debated this for a long time, but he could not so easily just give up on Istaria, on his life, and on living it. He could not stop being a Phoenix. He was simply too comfortable with that title.

But, did that mean he would never know peace? The manic life of a phoenix in flame, burning itself out to a depressive ash – it had taken its toll on his body and soul. Only his closest family knew what a wreck he had become. Within his chest raged maelstroms of emotion, hope and regret mingling like high and low pressures to twist tornadoes into deadly blades to eviscerate his heart. And that was while he was awake – the nightmares that haunted him buried him alive in guilt, and drown his tomb in regrets.

He shook his head, trying to gain control of the storm through his willpower alone. Though it like his physical strength waned, he looked down once more at the strong hatchlings below him. They would grow soon to adults and the world would belong to them. He had taught them much. The rest would be up to them.

Maekrux rose from his ruined terrace and shuffled into his lair. His mind raced, the only thing of late that could still move swiftly. He did not wish to abandon his sons, but he knew they were strong and wise and could fill the gap left - for Firepride, at the very least. In order to have his rest, though, he would need to convince someone who loathed him for help. And that required fulfilling a promise he had been neglecting to attend.

Into the shrine chamber the Blue Phoenix strolled. He had once laid prostrate to beg for aid in the quiet place of contemplation, which he received in exchange for his promise. His claws reached to the base of the binding crystal and fiddled around for a time, until the hidden compartment popped free. From it, he withdrew the scroll he had hidden since Maurger’s defeat. He placed it in his pack, resealed the compartment, and then placed a paw against the crystal. The chamber darkened as dots of light filled the ceiling like the night sky. Three burned orange at his behest.

“I come soon,” Maekrux said to the one he knew listened.



Flight seemed harder as he ascended the hot ashen air of Dralk. Landing on the edge of the elevated lair, he looked down at the floating city below as he had many times as a child from the same lair. It was pure luck that his eldest daughter had purchased it, as he had given up all right to the lair when he left it against his father’s will years ago. He placed a hand against the side of the entrance, remembering his first mistake. Climbing down into the lair, he startled the saris eagerly sweeping away the constant flows of ash that found their way into the lair.

“Maekrux! Welcome!” Janys exclaimed.
Maekrux grinned at him. “Just Maekrux?”
The saris’ ears peeled back and he bowed. “Please forgive me-”
“No. I like it, Janys.” The old blue smiled as the white saris stared up at him. “Is my grandson about?”

“No, sir. He has left to the northlands again.”
“I should have known. And my daughter?”
“Mistress Aerioch sleeps well, as she always does.”
“Take me to her.”

Maekrux followed the cat through the various turns of his eldest daughter’s lair, marveling at how clean the saris kept the place without tiring. Save for the entrance, where he continually waged war on the natural elements, the spotless chambers shined even more brightly than they had when they were new, untold years ago when Maekrux himself kept his abode with his father.

Descending into the deepest lair, Aerioch slept. He smiled at her brightly and came forward to her side, placing a gentle paw on her head. “I had hoped to be here when you woke, my daughter, but I know not if I will return in time, or at all.” Her red scales rose and fell without acknowledgment, as they always did. “I want you to know, Aerioch, that I have always loved you as I have all of my children. And it is for your sake that I will return some day, if I am able. That is the Phoenix Promise I made to you years ago. I renew it now.” The elder blue removed the scroll and placed it gently in her grasp. “This is a gift for your son from Drulkar himself, Aerioch. I know that… the two of you never reconnected, and that you blame yourself. If you can hear me, if you can hear only one thing I wish to say, let it be this: let go of your pain, Aerioch. Your son still loves you, as I do.” He rubbed her head gently before turning to shuffle out of the lair.

“Master Maekrux!”
The blue paused.
“Don’t worry. I will be here when she wakes, and she will know your words,” the saris said.

The blue smiled. “See to it my grandson knows his mother has a gift for him.” And with this, he left his ancestral home.



A short flight later, Maekrux landed at the long spiral descending to the hidden Gate of Embers. He did not look forward to the confrontation to follow, as the Elders had always sided with Drulkar and he had spoken openly against their mistakes. Though he had the coordinates already on his own scroll of pathfinding, he needed their permission. He stood before the gold, V’Tieru, and stared him down as the remaining Elders came to circle him.

“I require access to the Gate of Embers,” Maekrux said, near out of breath from a flight that should have been simple.

V’Tieru looked into his eyes, and then nodded. “You may use it.”
“No argument this time?”
“No, Maekrux. I have seen those eyes before. We all have. We, too, walked away from a world that was in need of our guidance. Should you return some day, we will not judge you for it. And yet, as you know, there will be a new Maekrux waiting to judge you for abandoning this world when it needed your guidance most of all.”

The blue sneered. “My guidance is ignored, my name slandered, my work cast down! I failed my people here and I would fail them even more to remain.”

V’Tieru smiled softly. “And so you know why we left. Go Maekrux. He is waiting.”

The blue frowned as the gold stepped aside. He looked at him once more and then to the other elders returning to their positions, before placing his hand against the gate and attuning it once more to the Realm of Fire.