“Take three guesses, then pick the answer you like best.”

“I’m the son of a Monarch,” Pride reminded them.

Mercy patted him on the arm. “I know you are!”

The stone hand was visible above the ruined homes of Sky’s Edge, and there was a completely straight road from the fortress straight to the tip of the middle finger. Cracks running through the street made their footing uneven, but Lindon was less concerned about their route and more about the skies around them.

The headquarters of Abyssal Palace, Redmoon Hall, the Stormcallers, and the Silent Servants surrounded the valley, and dragons flitted across the sky. Every time Lindon’s spirit shivered, indicating that someone had swept him with their perception, he tensed and readied himself for battle.

But no one attacked, so he took the opportunity to ask some questions.

“Pardon if this is too personal, Ruby, but do you remember Eithan? Or does that come from Yerin?”

“Hard to separate one from the other,” she said immediately. “By and large, it’s the same thing. Not even fair to say we’re completely different people, so much is the same. Only a little is totally mine or totally hers.”

“That is almost exactly the question I asked,” Eithan pointed out.

Ruby linked an arm around Lindon’s elbow.

“I have a question!” Mercy said, with her hand in the air. “Do you like being on your own?”

Ruby nodded. “It’s me and her now, not all us.” She squeezed Lindon’s arm, and he sensed more fear in the gesture than anything else. “Now I have something for me.”

Mercy melted. “Awww!”

A dreadbeast hurtled out of the darkness, but a casual black arrow pinned it against a nearby wall.

“What do you think your odds are in the finals tomorrow?” Pride asked, immediately throwing cold water over the conversation.

[I can answer that!] Dross spun out onto Lindon’s shoulder and made a show of coughing into the end of one of his tentacles. [And I will, because you’ve been speaking without me for too long. Based on Sophara’s match against Mercy, Yerin’s advancement, and Ruby’s…entire existence…we have a good forty or fifty percent chance of victory!]

He said it so proudly, but those numbers weighed heavily on Lindon.

Fifty percent chance. Who wanted to bet their lives on the flip of a coin?

“That’s not too bad!” Mercy said.

[Now, that is assuming Sophara will make no further improvements. I can’t account for those. Don’t blame me for anything I couldn’t know about!]

“Wonderful!” Eithan agreed. “If only there were something one of us could do to influence that outcome in our favor.”

Ruby stabbed at him with one of her Goldsigns.

“Uncanny,” Mercy whispered again.

Dross, Lindon asked, can you give Ruby a simulation against Sophara?

[Not as well as I can you,] Dross warned, [and not for long. But yes, I could do that, theoretically speaking. I mean, absolutely yes! I’m almost certain.]

When we get back.

He wasn’t sure Ruby would want to spend her one and only holiday training for this fight, but they needed to give Yerin any edge they could.

A number of Abyssal Palace collection towers had been erected over the homes of Sky’s Edge, identical to the other towers that Lindon had destroyed. Like the others, these were scripted to prevent spiritual detection, but Eithan assured them they were empty.

These towers closest to the Dreadgod would be operated remotely, once the Titan awakened. They would be destroyed in seconds, at most, but those were seconds in which they could collect Dreadgod madra for their sect.

Only when Lindon stood against the Wandering Titan’s finger, which loomed over him like a black stone wall, did his situation become fully real to him.

Ruby patted him on the shoulder and released him, taking a step away.

The moment had come so much more quickly than he’d expected. For some reason, despite knowing the plan, he had thought they would have to fight their way through guards or…something. He had expected something to go wrong.

Gingerly, he extended his right hand, stretching fingers of white madra. The arm wanted to shoot forward and feast, but he had such control that the limb didn’t even tremble.

Ruby and Mercy called encouragement, while Pride stayed icily silent.

“Soothe yourself,” Eithan said. “Relax. Pretend that you’re not doing something monumentally dangerous.”

[Oh, that’s good advice! Try that.]

Lindon shut them out and placed his Remnant hand against the Dreadgod’s.

With as little madra as he could use, he activated the binding in his right arm. A tiny spark of power trickled into him.

His consciousness disappeared.

Sleep had held him for too long, but he had almost shaken free of it. Soon, he would walk again. And this time he was hungry for more than just the delicious powers he could feel within the earth.

He smelled the one thing that could fill the endless hunger inside of him. He pictured himself wading through mountains like tall grass, tossing them aside, and finally finding the one meal that would put an end to his eons of starvation.

Home.

He would find what he needed at home, in the tunnels where he had been born.

Home.

He was going home, to his brother tucked away between four peaks.

Home.

Lindon fought his way back to awareness as though struggling to the surface amid storm-tossed waves.

He was lying on his back. He tasted blood. Dross was screaming at him, and Ruby stood over him with teeth bared and Goldsigns extended, a fence of blood and sword aura shredding anything that came close.

All around, dreadbeasts threw themselves at him like they’d gone insane.

Lindon tried to push his way up to fight, but his body wouldn’t listen. He was still swallowed in the vision, in the overwhelming desire to get home.

He was starting to separate his own memories from the Dreadgod’s now, but that only made his fear sharper. More real.

The Dreadgod’s home was his home.

When it woke, it would head straight for Sacred Valley.

Before he could speak, he passed out.

24

When Lindon woke again, it was to find nine eyes staring at him.

He was lying in a bed in some kind of makeshift medical center, with Ruby, Mercy, and Eithan all leaning over his bed. Little Blue stood on his chest, and Dross hovered over his face.

The second he woke, they all made some kind of noise.

It was almost enough to knock him out again.

“Knew that wouldn’t bury you,” Ruby said, squeezing his hand.

Little Blue chimed her relief and threw her arms around his neck in a hug.

“How are you feeling?” Mercy asked. “Are you thirsty?”

[Physically, you were totally unhurt. Mentally, it was like you were…well, how afraid are you of death?]

Eithan beamed. “Pride owes me ten scales.”

Lindon sat up, careful not to dislodge Little Blue, who refused to let go and ended up dangling from his neck. “The Titan is heading east. It’s not going to get distracted, and it could wake up within the week.”

Home. It echoed through his spirit.

And once again, he saw himself as the Dreadgod, wading through mountains.