B3 – Chapter 33: Mercy Killing

Tristan followed Forsych down through the clouds, above the city where a whole bunch of Angelblood citizens went about their daily business. The whole time they flew, Tristan was just struck by how impeccably perfect everything was. Ornate rows of buildings, perfectly maintained and organized fields that were all equal size.

Felicity commented, “This is so…neat!”

“I know-”

“No!” she said as she glanced at him and made a near-hiss noise. “It’s too organized!” She made a retching sound to emphasize her disgust with the locale. “It’s too perfect. Reality isn’t perfect.”

“The Heavenly Realm is,” Forsych called back. “Everything in its place, staying in its place, and perfectly organized.”

Tristan could appreciate that, being someone who enjoyed organization. But he could understand where Felicity was coming from, as the chaotic sprawl of the forests of the Fey Realm were a far cry from the perfect plots plotted out on the plains below. They descended to a massive manor house that was bigger than the large warehouse his grandfather had converted to train on dragon-sized puppets in the Anorox Estate outside of the capital of Bhant.

Rolling his shoulders forward to stop the downward angle, Tristan arced up slightly before rolling his shoulders back again to descend to a light stop. Felicity landed on his head and began making her paw-claw biscuits again, whilst Forsych tucked his wings back along his spine and gestured to the wooden, white door. “Here we are.”

The door was opened and a teenaged Angelblood citizen, dressed in a fine set of red clothes, stood to the side. “You wish to pay respects to the heaven dragon Shandralara?”

“Yes,” Forsych replied. “I brought the dragonslayer.”

The teenage boy looked at Tristan with a bit of fear tempered by professionalism. “Erm. Right this way. Although we must wait for the Highlord.”

Forsych entered and waved Tristan in behind him. Tristan walked into the building; a massive, singular structure that was covered with hardwood that was a mix of gold and white colored timber. Elegant murals and designs were painted on the walls that depicted an ancient story Tristan was somewhat familiar with – the founding of the Realms.

But what dominated his interest the most was the enormous, Wyrm-sized dragon that lay upon a huge, crimson cushion. Soft, gold scales with white lines and traces along the edges created a mesmerizing pattern. Her large, sky-blue eyes were staring right at Tristan, and he felt truly insignificant before one of the rarest types of dragons in existence. He felt the hunt-urge rise up in his chest, a desire to defeat and conquer – but it was kept in check by the majesty of the beast before him.

Forsych walked up and bowed at the waist, “Shandralara, thank you for allowing us to visit.”

She darted her eyes over to him and spoke, her voice melodic and soothing; like the singing of an angelic choir. “The sooner the Highlord gets here, the sooner this all ends.”

Tristan walked forward and kept a good twenty feet behind Forsych, bowing at the waist. “Shandralara…I am Tristan Winterbloom. Lord of the Fey Realm.”

“The Fey Realm? That is an old one.” She let out a slight chuckle before sighing and rolling her head slightly to look at Tristan with a single, huge blue eye. The black slit down the center reminded Tristan that this was a predator without equal. “You are here to kill me?”

Tristan felt very uncomfortable in the moment, but ultimately nodded and kept his voice steady. “I was told you were willing to die.”

She laughed a barking laugh, “Yes. I know I am to die in one day, four hours, twenty minutes…and five seconds.” She sighed, “I have said my goodbyes to everyone. And I know that I would rather get it over with than just wait to die.”

Forsych nodded and glanced back to Tristan, “That is one reason we wait for the Highlord. He will shepherd her soul, her consciousness, and see to it that she is reborn when a new egg becomes viable.”

“I had a question about that,” Felicity said as she raised a paw like a hand of a school child in a classroom.

“Go ahead,” Shandralara said.

“When you die your Realm Protector gets your consciousness, your soul, whatever it is – and you just get to come back? That’s so neat!”

Shandralara smiled, and the huge, pure-black teeth caught Tristan off guard as she had been speaking while keeping them concealed to that point. “Yes. As is the way in every Realm. I have died…twice before.”

Felicity made her paw-claw biscuits on Tristan’s head with more voracity, “The Matriarch does something similar…but you need to wait until you have an egg to go into? She just makes pods for us!”

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The dragon shrugged, the massive bulk of flesh raising ever-so-slightly at the front shoulder joints. “Different Realm, different rules, I suppose. Parrish? Bring me some water, please.”