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“It’s never been given an official name here. The pantheon of undergods and the dragons they breed there call it Diaxis. But personally… I’ve always called it hell.”
I FUCKING HATE dragons.
I had been filled with awe at the sight of the massive skull that had loomed behind Belikon’s throne at the Winter Palace, but it hadn’t translated, not truly: just how big the rest of the creature would have to be to warrant a head that monstrous. I understood now… and I was afraid.
“Two thousand yearrrrssss have I lived. Never has a meal walked straight into my mouth,” the dragon snarled.
“I hear the grindings of the gears that drive the universe toward destruction. I hear all. I know…” Its tongue probed between shattered teeth, flickering back and forth in the air. “… all.”
His whole life, Khydan had only known himself as Kingfisher. How much of a person’s identity resided in their name? How much of their soul? A strange thought. Khydan’s soul was the same as it had ever been. His personality, too. But… something fundamental had changed inside him. It was subtle. It was because he was free.
