Emherhold was carved into the heart of the mountain itself. Its open gates revealed an enormous cavern, where the city was built entirely of stone structures, merging with the rock walls and stretching up to the cavern ceiling. At the city’s core, an immense cluster of yellow crystals hung from the dome, casting a warm, ethereal glow over everything. Smaller crystals dotted the city, mirroring that same gentle light. From the entrance, Emherhold sparkled like a Techie city illuminated by electric lights, yet it felt somehow more alive, infused with a natural magic that blended seamlessly with the rock that it flowed from. Xania found it beautiful—unexpectedly so.
The main road spiraled downward, wrapping through each ring of the city, connecting a maze of bridges, ladders, and walkways spanning across the vast central space. At the very bottom lay a shimmering lake, its surface glistening under the crystal light. Next to the lake stood the Dragon Temple, an ancient stone structure. When Xania looked down toward those waters, she felt a strange pull, like a whisper calling her closer. The need gnawed at her, impossible to ignore, as though her very being demanded it.
Derrex drove them slowly through the bustling city. The streets were filled with people, their movements weaving between the crowds of pedestrians, motorcycles, lizards carrying riders, and even the occasional horse and cart. Watching the crowds, Xania noted the mix of people who looked no different from those in Listama, yet here, magic was performed openly alongside technology. Spells sparked in the air beside people tapping on computers or speaking into devices, and she couldn’t look away from the beauty of it all, enchanted by this world where magic and technology existed together, not in conflict but in balance.
They stopped to ask directions from a couple carrying baskets on their heads, who pointed them toward the central ring, where the market awaited on the opposite side of the lake from the temple. As they continued their descent, Xania felt a strange regret that she couldn’t offer the couple a ride down the steep paths on their bike.
Finally reaching the city’s center, they parked in a public garage and stable area, which, to her surprise, were free to use. City workers in uniforms directed traffic and took care of animals, providing services that spoke to Emherhold’s welcoming nature.
Once on the street, Derrex gently took her arm. She made no move to pull away, feeling more amused than annoyed. She’d come to understand that the gesture was less about possession and more about protection. As he quietly scanned their surroundings, she noticed a reassuring sense of watchfulness in him. The small ways he looked out for her reminded her of Enero, yet Derrex’s purpose felt different—more deliberate, more careful. She smiled, feeling a sense of warmth in the midst of the bustling, harmonious city around them.
The street bustled with life, a diverse crowd weaving around her as Xania and Derrex moved toward the market. Most of the people were human, their attire a mix of earthy-toned fabrics and sturdy leathers, yet here and there, flashes of bright metal or iridescent cloth hinted at more advanced Techie origins. Occasionally, a Fey figure would glide past, their unusual features drawing subtle glances—a tall, slender man with leaves braided into his hair, a woman with skin faintly shimmering like mica, and a young child whose eyes glowed with a soft, otherworldly light. Nearby, an android moved with fluid precision, its metallic frame wrapped in something resembling cloth to mimic clothing, though it walked with a machine’s unyielding grace. People carried all manner of items: woven baskets of fresh produce, sleek black tablets, metal tools, enchanted charms, and gleaming Techie devices strapped to their belts. The air was filled with snatches of conversation and laughter, the smell of baked bread, and faint pulses of magic, making Xania feel as though she'd stepped into a place that held the richness of countless lives and histories, blending the ancient and the new in ways she had never seen before.
A shadow gently caressed Xania's mind and she turned from the market to look at the lake. Xania drifted in the haze of her mind, her thoughts coming slow and feeling cluttered. She listened to the deep thrumming that emanated from her bones. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and felt the cold stone beneath her. The scratching metallic sound of scales rubbed in her ears. Everything throbbed and ached at its core. Her body felt larger than it should be and she felt unable to breath. The air was warm and thick, tasting of iron. Everything around her was like metal; cold, hard and lifeless.
A strange, invisible force pulled Xania from the market. Her thoughts tangled, weighed down by a fog that felt too dense to sift through. The heavy, thrumming beat inside her resonated from her bones, and with each pulse, the world seemed to narrow and sharpen, cold and metallic. Her footsteps echoed against the stone path as she moved without conscious direction, her gaze fixed ahead, oblivious to Derrex as he quietly followed her, keeping a protective watch.
Drawn to the lake, she found herself near a group of clerics robed in deep indigos and blacks, their heads bowed in reverence as they chanted softly beside the water’s edge. They worshiped the Dragon of the Void, their prayers filling the air with a haunting melody. When they saw her, their chants paused, replaced by curious murmurs—they knew what was happening, recognized the signs of one called by the dragon. They stepped back, allowing her through.
Xania walked into the lake. The cold water surged around her legs, and then, as she took another step, an excruciating pain exploded within her. Her eyes flew open as she screamed, every nerve alive with fire, searing through her like a storm of molten metal. The agony was fleeting but left her body throbbing and raw, muscles straining as if on the verge of tearing. Her mind reeled, unable to process the intensity of it, her cries echoing over the water. Derrex attempted to approach, but the clerics held him back, firm and unyielding.
Above her, shadows gathered, merging into a dark, pulsating mass, swirling and coiling as it took form. A deep, rhythmic sound emanated from the shadow, a slow, resonant pulse that traveled through her body, calming her with each beat. The pain dulled, and she felt herself slipping into a gentle peace, her body melting into the cold waters around her. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the soft, soothing vibration.
In the quiet that followed, the clerics resumed their chanting, retreating to their cushions, their voices rising and falling in reverence.
Derrex stood on the shore, looking out over the waters.
“From nothing, all things come to be,” a voice echoed in her mind, deep and ancient, as if spoken from the depths of the lake itself.
Xania’s mind spun with fury and confusion, her chest heaving as she clawed against the weight of the summons pulling her toward the lake’s depths. She staggered forward, unable to resist and plunging down under the water. The clerics watched, murmuring among themselves, their voices growing reverent as they sensed the dark power stirring within the lake. The sky above darkened, a roiling cloud of shadow forming as if drawn from the depths itself.
A voice echoed within her, ancient and chilling, filling her mind. “From the Void, all life emerged, and from my shadows, the Life Stream flows. I am the Dragon Spirit within the Void, and I have summoned you.”
Xania’s anger flared, her voice raw as she screamed into the darkness. She had been changed, redefined, too many times by forces beyond her control. She looked up and saw two vast, lidless eyes forming in the swirling blackness, gazing down at her with an intensity that made her recoil. The clerics, eyes wide, fell silent, watching the dragon’s eyes.
“Sweet child, I summon thee,” the voice intoned again, powerful and unyielding.
Xania thrashed, her body rebelling against invisible bonds she felt tightening around her. “I will not serve you!” she cried, defiant. Fear clawed at her chest, mingling with resentment. She would not loose herself once again. Would not become a pawn in yet another power’s game.
The dragon’s voice, cold and unfeeling, reverberated around her.
“I am the Dragon of the Void, among the highest order.”
From the cloud, a massive shape began to take form, coiling and shifting as though endless in length. Shadows rolled like scales, scraping against each other, and two skeletal hands with talons descended, pressing into the water on either side of her. It lowered its head, dark and serpentine, inches from her face. Xania felt its hot breath against her skin, the warmth mingling with her rage.
“You shall hold the world in your hands,” it said, its voice a promise and a burden.
“What does that mean?” Xania’s anger gave way to something deeper—a bone-weary exhaustion. She had felt this weight before, the same impossible expectations and responsibilities. She met its gaze, her reflection split across its dark, empty eyes.
“I give you my power,” it replied, unblinking.
She’d never wanted this—power had only ever brought suffering. But the dragon’s words held a quiet inevitability, as if refusing it was no option at all.
Screaming, she raised her hands up toward the dragon as though she could push it away from her and deny it, but it only loomed closer. The dragon’s jaws opened, and a plume of gray steam erupted over her, enveloping her. Sparks crackled over her skin, each jolt bringing a surge of something dark and ancient coursing through her. She jerked, unable to stop herself from crying—a release born of nerves and bewilderment—then felt it seep deeper, touching her bones, her very being.
In a sudden flare of sensation, her own magic surged against the dragon’s, a wild blue energy blazing up in rebellion. Yet it was no match; the dragon’s power enfolded it, merging the two until they were one—a presence both foreign and familiar, warm and soothing.
She felt herself shift, her skin transforming into scales, black and glistening. Her hands and feet twisted into talons, her back stretching as wings unfurled behind her. Beneath her, a tail took shape, lashing the water as she struggled to balance the monstrous weight of her new form. She threw back her head and screamed, her voice raw with the release of magic and pain.
The priests stared in awe, their chants fading. They had never seen a Drake granted such power from this elusive dragon, and the sheer weight of its presence struck them silent.
Xania looked down at herself, horrified by what she had become. The realization clawed at her heart, ripping open old wounds of loss. She mourned, feeling her old self slipping away, replaced by this immense creature. She stared at her claws, her new wings, the scaled skin that stretched over her. “I don’t want this,” she said, anger burning fresh in her chest.
Her voice rose, her desperation spilling into a shout. “I don’t want this!”
Power surged within her, a tidal wave she pushed outward, shoving the transformation back with sheer force. She watched, transfixed, as scales receded, claws shrank, and wings folded back into her body. Her own form returned, small and frail by comparison, but wholly her own. She laughed, a bitter, hysterical sound, relieved to find herself beneath the monstrous façade.
The darkness pulled back, dissolving into shadow and sinking back into the lake’s depths. Xania stood alone, the ache of its departure filling her with an unsettling emptiness. She had survived the encounter, yet she felt as though she had lost another part of herself to the dragon’s calling. As the water stilled around her, she gazed at her reflection, haunted by the weight of the dragon’s words.
In the silence, the lake whispered promises of power, calling her to claim it. But Xania only shivered, hugging herself tightly as she waded toward the shore, resisting any force outside herself that might shape what she would become.
