Year 79; End of the worm wars; Day 2

  Isaac had slept like a child in his makeshift nest.

  A quiet peace had settled over him, one he never realized he craved until this very moment.

  Isaac gazed down at the eggs, holding them close as if they were the rarest jewels in the world.

  He imagined what they might become once hatched and grown. Would they possess minds of their own? Would they intelligent?

  He set those thoughts aside for now, shaking his head clear.

  Peering from his nest into the lush green heaven, Isaac caught the distant melody of song drifting through the jungle. The elves had begun their celebration. Rising, he made his way toward the meeting place from the night before.

  The green heaven was still a sight to behold. Unfamiliar plants and creatures mingled in wild harmony, and even some of the monsters who fought in the desert now found peace beneath the trees.

  Now he understood why the elves and Alda had sacrificed so much to protect this place from the worms.

  The walk there didn't take long, and most of the elves came together; they were in a circle gathered around a giant fire.

  Some of the elves were... not singing to say, but humming, and some were looking to the center of the gathering.

  Alda was in the center, carving names into stone columns. Some of the other monsters were here too, but only a few... it seemed some of them had found partners in the elves.

  As Isaac closed in, he heard what Alda was saying to the gathering.

  “—We remember Branch of Silk and Web,” the name on the stone column stated, glowing. “May your name never fade, and may you be a part of us all.”

  “We remember!” every elf echoed as Isaac made it into the clearing.

  A soft sorrow lingered in the air, woven with respect and the promise of hope. Each elf paid tribute to those who were gone.

  Stone columns stood tall around the fire, silent witnesses to many such gatherings. Isaac guessed this ritual had been part of their lives for ages.

  The war had carved a lasting tradition into them.

  Alda spotted Isaac as he entered the clearing, her smile warm as she beckoned him closer.

  “Isaac of true fire,” she gave him a respectful nod, and Isaac returned it.

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  “We have just sent off the last of our kin that were lost in the war,” she said, her smile sorrowful but hopeful.

  "You look well-rested," the former elf god said. Isaac had to agree—he felt reborn, almost eager for a new adventure.

  But only almost.

  The scars from battle and the long journey had faded. The short feast of worms and forest creatures had rekindled his dragon strength.

  But he still could go for more.

  "But now," the former god clapped her hands, the sharp sound echoing through the clearing. "We feast and welcome a new age.”

  “Bring out the food!"

  Food?!

  Isaac had never given it much thought. He always pictured elves living on nothing but leaves and roots.

  But as platters piled high with roasted meats and monstrous delicacies were brought into the clearing, his eyes widened, and his nostrils flared in delight.

  Isaac traced his tongue over his sharp teeth, anticipation building.

  He had not known how much he craved real, cooked food. The scent of spices nearly made him drool.

  His stomach rumbled in agreement.

  Some elves looked over and laughed... Alda did too. "I hear you are hungry, Isaac," she said, tapping a hand on his scales.

  "No need to worry—we've prepared plenty for everyone," Alda said, her voice light. She waved him on. "Go ahead, Isaac."

  She hardly needed to ask him twice.

  Isaac plunged into the grand feast, savoring every bite with wild abandon.

  Alda studied Isaac.

  The Dragon of true fire...

  He was a truly fascinating young dragon.

  He was intelligent beyond his years, powerful, and with a fire affinity unlike any she had ever witnessed, as a former god.

  She suspected Isaac had no idea just how powerful or extraordinary he truly was. Her gaze followed him as he moved toward the elves he called friends.

  His movements were those of a hunter: slow, silent, ready to strike. In addition, she could sense the fire mana within him and around him, coiled and ready to answer his call in an instant.

  In every way, he was one in a million, destined to grow even more extraordinary.

  Yet it was his kindness to his new friends that mattered most.

  She watched as Isaac joined Heart of Tree and Bark at the feast, soon joined by the Spirit of Leaves and Wind.?

  Her almost-son, her most devoted, was speaking loudly for the first time—without a single stutter. And he was asking about...

  'Shit?' Alda had to stifle a laugh. Of all the things to ask a dragon about.

  The former goddess brushed away a tear of laughter.

  The joys of youth... Alda remembered them well.

  Too well—

  Laughter, light—then blood. Pain.

  She hugged herself, grounding her feet to the earth as memories surged through her.

  Hurt bodies— dead bodies. murdered bodies

  She anchored her being, letting the voices wash over her.

  murdere, mUrDeRe, MURDEREr, MURD—

  She turned away from the circle, hiding the twist of anguish on her face.

  MURDERER!!, MURD—

  And then, she forced the memories back into silence.

  The pain of those voices still struck her like divine lightning every time.

  The flashes of the past had never weighed so heavily on her godhood. Now, stripped of divinity, she looked down at her green hands.

  Her mortal hands.

  She had to endure, for all their sakes.

  She made a fist.

  She would not abandon them, nor this world.

  Not again.

  Not if it was the last thing she did.

  Not like last time.

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