“What the Hells were those?” Cassia asked as she nocked an arrow. Howls from the vampyr spawn echoed up from lower in the Tower. As I looked down the hole to the lower floors, I could see them trying to find their way up unsuccessfully. They’d have to head back to the stairs. Some of them already had by the sound of it.

  When I looked up, only a couple of floors remained before we’d reach the top of the Tower. The Wizards which we’d been fighting were conspicuously absent. I had a sneaking suspicion where they’d all gone, but somehow doubted Mortimer was amongst their number.

  “Vampyr spawn,” Veda explained shortly. They waved their staff at both stairway entrances on this floor. Thick columns of stone appeared out of the air to block them off. “I apologize. If I had known for sure that these things were infesting the Tower, I would never have suggested we separate.”

  “Our comrades?” Veda asked Mamaet. The Witch Hunter simply shook their head. Veda’s ears dropped slightly towards their shoulders and they cursed under their breath.

  “Neat sounding name, but what does that mean?” Visk asked as they also glanced down the hole. Their ears twitched and shuddered when they saw the sucking maws of the spawns’ leech-like faces staring at them from below. “All of those things are wearing Wizard robes. Is that where they all went?”

  “Yes,” Veda responded. They seemed to consider tossing a spell down at the spawns below us, but shook their head. Perhaps they needed to conserve power. “I was just telling Sanguine, that I believe most if not all of the Wizards in this Tower are Thralls. It seems I was mistaken on just how bad the infestation has become, however…”

  “... A Vampyr is a monster wearing the guise of a human, or something close enough. They feed on life force. Most commonly this is through blood, but as the Vampyr grows stronger, so does its appetite. Eventually blood is not enough. In time a Vampyr will grow strong enough to consume the raw essence, Vitae, of living creatures.”

  Veda glanced down at the growing horde of spawns below us. More were hammering at the stone walls the elf had erected at either end of this floor. “Especially powerful Vampyr will be able to create Thralls, humans and other living creatures that have had their minds warped to serve the Vampyr fanatically. They are used to help maintain the Vampyr’s disguise and to protect its lair.”

  “And at what point does that result in these freaks?” Cassia asked. She loosed an arrow down the hole at the horde of spawn. The arrow embedded itself into the head of one, which gave a long reedy shriek. It toppled forward and fell down the hole in front of it. The shriek continued until it impacted the floor a long ways down with a meaty crunch.

  “When sufficiently threatened, a Vampyr may choose to convert its Thralls into Spawns such as this,” Veda responded. They were continuously clenching and unclenching their hands on their staff. “This sacrifices the Thralls, but turns them into bloodthirsty monsters who will fight to the death.”

  “So the Vampyr knows the jig is up and is choosing to flip the table rather than lose the game?” Visk asked grimly.

  Veda nodded in return. “It is highly likely that the Vampyr controlling these Spawn are using them as a distraction so that they can flee.”

  “So why the Hells are we waiting- Oh there he goes.” Visk watched as I shot towards the hole in the ceiling. There was absolutely no way that I was going to let the creature which had turned this whole Tower into monsters leave here alive.

  It didn’t matter if it was Mortimer, or someone else. I’d kill them either way.

  When I erupted out of the top of the Tower of Baedain, the wind had reached a fever pitch. It whipped and clawed at my scaled body from all sides. The only time I had felt more overwhelmed by the raw power of nature was when I was a hatchling being swept away in an avalanche.

  I landed on the ancient stones of the Tower’s roof and shoved my claws between the cracks to hold on. My wings were forced to tuck in tight against my body so that I wouldn’t be carried away. Even then, the gusts of wind threatened to rip me right off of the Tower’s roof.

  Mortimer stood across from me, his robes and long beard whipping in the wind. He seemed unbothered by the gusts. He’d lost his stupid pointy hat, which fully exposed his head and face to me. The weary expression on his face told me that he probably wouldn’t care if the wind carried him away.

  The Wizard looked like he was hundreds of years old, practically a mummy still upright and walking. He was just a fraction more alive than the withered husk I’d seen below.

  There were tell-tale signs that he’d almost gone through a transformation into a Spawn like the other Wizards below, namely how his mouth was only hanging together by flaps of flesh. Far too many sharp teeth sat behind his lips. Only the shining purple eyes inside of his skull remained undamaged.

  “Are you going to bother listening to an old man, or just bite my head off?” Mortimer asked me. I could hear his voice clearly inside my head, despite the howling wind. His hands grasped a shepherd’s crook. I could smell Magnus’s magic exuding off of it.

  “Give me Magnus and I shall make your death quick,” I boomed back at him, flames flickering in the back of my throat. “Rather than the long suffering you deserve.”

  “I cannot,” Mortimer hissed. “He is not here. The Mistress has him now, just like she has taken everything else.” Mortimer raised the crook at me, sliding both of his hands along its surface. “She promised me power for service. I took that deal. Decades of loyal service. And now… You will not defeat her. She is beyond mortal ken.”

  There were no more words. Mortimer had sacrificed everything in exchange for Power. Decades of life, the lives of everyone else in the Tower, and even his only friend and Familiar. I understood this innately, from the Intent that leaked through his words. All of it, for the scraps his Mistress deigned to give him.

  Now, it was all gone.

  I charged forward, my claws biting into the ancient stones of the Tower with each step. The crook in Mortimer’s hands flared, light pouring from the single gem at the end of the loop. Raw light and force slammed into me, blinding my eyes and forcing me back.

  It was such a simple but effective device. Mortimer had taught Magnus a simple ‘Light’ rune, just to keep the kid distracted. He’d never expected the boy to make a slight error in the etching, which transformed the rune from ‘Light’ to ‘Beam’.

  ‘Beam’ as in the spell ‘Shuaelsham’. Sunbeam.

  If only Mortimer had met Magnus a decade sooner! The kid was Blessed by Consequence. Even the simplest experiment turned steaming pit excrement into gold when Magnus got involved. He’d been trying to crack open those Cursed Burial Urns for the Mistress for years.

  Magnus had cut them open with a bloody butter knife.

  Dreams for dozens of possible experiments whirled through Mortimer’s head even as he kept the burning ray of light focused on the dragon. The creature was remarkably persistent. Mortimer had never expected it to care about some random shepherd’s son, let alone for it to chase him across half the bloody country.

  The Wizard had developed the sneaking suspicion that the two were related, if such a thing were even possible. Magnus and the dragon’s magic felt vaguely similar, if only for its stupendous power.

  Wards that had protected the Tower of Baedain for centuries. The combined might of every Wizard inside the Tower. Even Mortimer’s own Familiar, stuffed to the beak with ancient malevolent spirits. None of it had stood a chance.

  If there had been any chance of running away, Mortimer would have been long gone. He’d have fled so far over the horizon that the words Osteriath, Tower, and Dragon wouldn’t have shown up in the local lexicon. But he was trapped. Trapped like a rat in a cage. The City had its eyes on the Tower of Baedain. There would be no escape.

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  Not unless he killed the Dragon. Perhaps then, the Mistress might deem him worthy enough to take him with her when she fled.

  Yet, impossibly, the Dragon was clawing its way closer.

  Ruby scales glowed like molten metal under the barrage of focused sunlight. Mortimer could see those eyes full of burning hate getting closer, bit by bit. Even as the crook began to burn in his hands, energy leaking from the flawed rune at its end.

  The Dragon pulled itself another step closer.

  Runes painstakingly woven into Mortimer’s robes caught on fire as the danger to his body became too great. Precious enchanted gold and silver thread, quenched in the blood of innocents, started to melt and run like tears. Priceless amulets and rings which hung from his neck and withered fingers, a lifetime's worth of bargained and stolen protection, popped and burst like firecrackers.

  The Dragon pulled itself closer still. He could practically feel its breath on his neck.

  Mortimer’s hands shook as he poured his own life force into the rune. It was a Sorcerer’s technique, but Mortimer was nothing if not resourceful. The burning light erupting out of the crook intensified, for just a moment matching the beam of raw power which had sundered the Tower of Baedain.

  But the Dragon Had Arrived. Its jaws opened up wide, with a throat full of fire. Mortimer’s hand shoved the blazing crook forward, reaching for the Prismatic Mirror in his back pocket. It didn’t have much of a charge but-

  -but it wasn’t there.

  Mortimer screamed in futile rage.

  Then there was only black.

  I swallowed what was left.

  The foul taste in my mouth wasn’t one that I’d want to remember any time soon. Perhaps it was unnecessary. My Cassia and Edith wouldn’t have approved, but I was beyond caring. I needed to be absolutely sure that there was no way for the Wizard to pull some kind of magical nonsense and come back from the dead.

  Devouring every last scrap of Vitae and spinning it through the golden spiral in my core seemed like the only permanent way to ensure that.

  My eyes flicked around the top of the Tower. It looked like Mortimer had been reaching for something just before my jaws closed around him. That brief spark of confusion and rage in his eyes before he died told me that he’d been counting on something other than Magnus’s crook to ensure he lived.

  I couldn’t see what he had been reaching for.

  “Visk?” I asked through the howling wind. “Are you up here? I might just start breathing fire on everything if I think someone else is hiding up here!”

  The elf popped into sight by the crenellations ringing the Tower’s summit. Their ears waggled nervously as they looked at me.

  “H-heeeyyy Boss,” Visk said nervously, barely audible over the wind. I needed to move closer to hear them better. A small ‘eep’ passed their lips. That, I could only see rather than hear. Their scent was being carried away by the wind as well. It was truly a lucky guess that I’d known they were up here with me.

  “What did you do? How did you get up here?” I asked loud enough to be heard. “I could have hurt you, if I made a large enough blast without seeing you!”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. Not the smartest,” Visk replied while their ears wilted. Their ears then shot up a bit. “Veda sent me up here! Blame them! I uh- I got you something though…”

  A small silver hand mirror was sitting in Visk’s grasp. The mirror face shimmed with dull prismatic light. I recognized it immediately. This was what Mortimer had used to escape from me the first time.

  “How did you even get this?” I rumbled.

  “Pickpocketed it!” Visk replied, like that explained how the elf had gotten up two floors, stayed invisible, and snagged a magic artifact out from under a Wizard’s nose while he was blasting me with pure sunlight.

  Visk was looking up at me expectantly, waiting for something.

  A deep sigh ran through my body. “Good elf,” I rumbled against Visk’s upraised ear.

  Visk’s ears shot towards the sky. One flicked across the end of my snout due to our proximity. A heated snort left my nostrils as I turned to look back at the hole in the tower’s roof. Veda and the others were clambering out of it.

  There was no sign of the three Witch Hunters who had split off. I didn’t need to guess much about their fate.

  Above us, I could see cracks in the air. The invisible sphere which hovered over the Tower of Baedain had been ruptured by my first attack. Those cracks had only grown larger from the sunbeam Mortimer had thrown in my face. Rays of light had reflected off of my ruby scales and pierced it in multiple places. It looked like a prismatic wound had been torn in the sky over the Tower, which was growing wider by the second.

  “Mortimer is dead?” Veda asked me as they brushed off their armored robes. The elf looked exhausted. Whatever means they used to power their magic, it was clearly on its last legs.

  “Yes. He confirmed that the ‘Mistress’ has Magnus before he died,” I rumbled back. The wind was growing even stronger around us. Black storm clouds were collecting over Osteriath, which spun in a dark spiral overhead. My companions struggled to not be carried away and had to crouch low, lest they be caught by the wind.

  “She will be above us, in the Sphere of Protection,” Veda called over the gusts. “She is probably calling this storm to cover her escape. When it breaks, I doubt anyone would be able to track her through it.”

  “Then we do not give her the time,” I growled firmly. “Are you still able to fight?”

  “A couple of spawn got in after you left,” Cassia said testily. I could tell she was annoyed with me for running off to fight Mortimer on my own. “If you try and run off on your own again, I’m telling Edith to beat you with a switch!”

  Veda looked mildly horrified at how Cassia spoke to me. Visk gave a small chuckle. Sir Kenneth just looked ready to be done with this business, which I could sympathize with. As for what the Witch Hunter Mamaet though, I couldn’t say. They had managed to hang on to their ceramic mask and hood, somehow.

  “Fine then. Together,” I rumbled. “Hang on tight then. I cannot guarantee that this flight will be comfortable.”

  If anyone had been close enough to watch, they would have been able to see a ruby scaled dragon carrying a mixture of humans and elves in its claws, right into the eye of a hurricane. I tried not to think about how ridiculous I looked as the five of them held onto me for dear life. The roaring wind above the top of the tower nearly snatched them from my grasp several times.

  Not to mention how my Cassia insisted on riding on my back. We flew upwards regardless. After a couple of wing beats, we were carried through the prismatic wound in the air, and were suddenly relocated someplace else.

  ○ ○ ○

  Magnus looked up as the sound of shattering glass shook the Cloister. He frowned softly. One of the wings had closed its doors to him earlier and would not let him inside. That was rather upsetting, as he had several promising experiments waiting for him to check on their progress in that wing.

  He had occupied himself instead with some of the Mistress’s other lessons. She had left him a lot of course work to keep him busy while she was ‘away’. He wasn’t exactly sure how long it had been but he had already started to run out of material to work with. Instead, he’d started to devise his own experiments and studies.

  It had never bothered him before, but the Cloister didn’t seem to have fixed boundaries. The Inner Garden remained as a fixed point for him to travel through, but the doors at its periphery seemed to change where they led on occasion. Wherever Magnus wanted to go, the doors opened to that location.

  But they weren’t letting him go where he wanted now.

  Magnus slapped his hand against the door in frustration. To his surprise, it flexed a bit under his touch. He’d once eaten an overbaked pudding when he was very small. The door had a similar texture to that when he pushed hard enough.

  His head started to hurt again as he thought about that. Magnus couldn’t remember much before he’d come to the Cloister. Half the time it felt like he’d been there all his life, just him and the Mistress. Stray thoughts like the one about the pudding had only started to leak in after the doors had shut him out.

  He wondered what lay beyond the door and if it was somehow related.

  With nothing else to do, Magnus turned and walked back down the gravel path to the inner Garden. He wasn’t sure where exactly he was going, but he knew that he wanted to get away from the pain rising in the back of his mind. His feet eventually lead him to the koi pond. He vaguely remembered it from the last time the Mistress had spoken to him.

  Perhaps hoping that sitting in the same place would help him feel the same way, Magnus sat down on the stone bench and stared into the water. To his mild surprise and disgust, the koi fish which had once swam in the pond was dead. It had somehow thrown itself out of the water on the opposite side of the pool and perished from the lack of water.

  A pure white raven feasted on the remains, peeling back the calico scales to reveal the rotting flesh underneath.

  “Archibald?” he asked, confused. He didn’t know why he knew that was the bird’s name, but it was. The bird turned its beak towards Magnus and gave a light ‘caw’. Magnus blinked, as he understood what the bird meant.

  “Oh, well that’s a little rude,” Magnus said as he held out his hand. The raven flapped its wings twice and lofted itself across the koi pond to land on Magnus’s finger. “What am I doing here? I’m… I’m not really sure, to be honest. I feel rather lost all of a sudden.”

  “Kraah!”

  “Oh? Someone’s coming to get me? That’ll be nice.” Magnus stood up off of the bench and looked out across the Garden. His grip tightened on the staff the Mistress had given him. For some reason, the Garden looked a lot more menacing than it had a few moments ago. “Maybe whoever is coming can tell me why my head hurts so much.”

  “Caw?”

  “No Archibald, I wasn’t dropped on my head as a babe,” Magnus sighed. At least he’d finally found the bloody bird… but he couldn’t remember who had told him to find it.