Stealth was a lost art. Espionage even more so. On Tripolis, where commerce and camaraderie blurred the lines between worlds, there was no space for secrecy, and without secrecy, there was no conflict.
And it was conflict that fed him.
The Assigner's essence thrived on entropy, on rot disguised as order. Radiation, poison, war — these were his bread. The more volatile the planet became, the more his power surged. He was a god of toxicity; harmony starved him.
Now, submerged in molten iron, he fed.
The liquid metal clung to his body like mercury made flesh, each molecule charged with the ambient decay of Millennia's mines. It entered through his pores, sank through the translucent skin of his ribcage, and threaded itself through the lattice of his being — atomic fire fusing into soul. Each spark of radiation was a kiss of life. Each burn, a reminder that immortality was only sustained by contamination.
The spires of Millennia loomed through the haze, their peaks glittering with perpetual dusk. Beneath them, the pool roared softly, an infernal lullaby for a god who would never sleep.
Vectra moved at the edge of the pool, her silver chains whispering around her ankles. Her eyes were black mirrors; they reflected nothing but him.
The Assigner reclined, letting the metal lap at his throat. His skin gleamed like newly forged armor, but beneath that sheen, fractures pulsed faintly — veins of light snaking through him where the radiation had eaten away his form.
As the liquid iron purged the weakness from his body, the Assigner's mind roamed to darker thoughts.
His fucking children.
Those ungrateful inbreds, the instruments of pain he brought forth and forged from nothing but his own imagination. He raised them from ashes, created them, gave them power so they could sow conflict on Tripolis where there was none and help him feed his power.
And this was their thanks.
A rebellion.
Their usefulness had waned, their expiration date quickly approaching. It always ended this way, no matter how much of his power he poured into humanity, into shaping narrow-minded brains to think in grand schemes. They would always retreat back into their familiar bondage of emotions, relying on sentiment, feeding off of it. While he'd end up with nothing.
"How are you feeling?" Vectra asked, her voice low and precise.
He opened one eye. "Like a furnace denied its fuel. I need more."
Her fingers brushed his hair. The contact hissed; steam rose. "You're already burning."
"Not enough," he growled. "She expelled me from Rosum's body — tore my essence out like it was filth. She wounded me, Vectra."
Vectra's expression didn't change, but her hand lingered on the side of his head, thumb circling the faint crack that glowed beneath his temple. "You said it was wise to send her away. That she would cause more harm if I let her stay."
"It was." His voice reverberated through Vectra's thoughts.
"Then she has learned too much," Vectra murmured. "But she has learned it too late. Rhona is dead, unable to teach her any tricks. The dragon cannot speak."
The Assigner's breath rasped, thick with iron vapor. "She had better not speak again. I never liked talkers."
Vectra's chains clinked softly as she stepped into the pool. The metal welcomed her, parting in smooth waves that licked up her calves. Where it touched her, it cooled — her body absorbing its heat, its poison, its worship.
She reached him, kneeling until their faces were level. "What about my punishment?"
He smiled faintly, teeth glinting like shards of glass. "If I punished you for your every failure, I'd have no one by my side by now."
That stung, but she let it go. She snuggled closer, letting her head fall in the crook of his neck. "Cleo might have stolen from you, but she is on your side. Maybe this entire affair will sort itself out thanks to her clumsiness."
For a heartbeat, neither moved. The air between them shimmered with heat, distortion, need.
Then she leaned in. Their lips met — not in affection, but in exchange. The metal around them surged upward, folding over their bodies like molten glass. It was not passion that joined them but thermonuclear hunger.
He drew the heat from her like breath, drinking it, draining it, until her body flickered translucent — veins pulsing with liquid mercury, eyes hollow but radiant. She shuddered, not from pain but from the ecstasy of obliteration.
They merged, flesh to flesh, spirit to spirit, until they were indistinguishable from one another. Vectra leaned over, her lips meeting him in a kiss binding the master and the slave for as long as Millennia would stand.
***
The devastation was immeasurable. There were some three hundred people in the Vlachy encampment of Aazor city. After Rosum's rampage, only fifty or so remained. The carnage - the blood on the blade grass, the people Rosum mauled near the lake had their blood seep into it and poison it.
Edward knelt by the lake, rinsing Rosum's blood and poison from the children's skin. The youngest, Hilde, didn't even flinch as he scrubbed her arms raw. Her wide eyes stared straight ahead, empty, like she'd never be able to close them without seeing death ever again.
Areilycus crouched nearby, his hands glowing faintly as he drew the pain from Soileen's torn leg. The Anchor worked in silence, wrapping the head of Soileen's son with crushed hibiscus weeds.
Every few seconds, her hands shook, and she'd stop, pressing her palms into the earth as if grounding herself in the weight of it all.
Volmira returned from the town, her white garments darkened by soot and salt. She carried Rosum's head in her lap, rocking it like a child. His face was gray, slack. Whatever spark had been inside him was gone.
"Do you believe me now?" Mila's voice cracked through the heavy quiet.
No one answered. Edward couldn't tell who she was speaking to—her sister, her brother, or the god who wasn't there. But the tone said everything. She was done being dismissed.
No one met her eyes. Not even Areilycus.
The little dragon, Bonnie, shuffled toward him, her small claws scratching at the dirt. She tried to roar but only managed a weak puff of smoke before curling into a ball beside his boots.
Edward's own Bonnie stood at the water's edge, scrubbing the bloodstained fabric of the Vlachy tunics. The red wouldn't wash out, no matter how hard she tried. Soileen had added herbs to the mash, but even the plants seemed powerless against what had been spilled tonight.
"The witch mother is dead," Soileen said, rocking her daughter gently. "We have no leader."
Edward glanced up, exhausted, voice flat. "Then elect one. Isn't that what your people do? Choose a new Vajda?"
Soileen's fingers toyed with the silver pendant at her throat—a tiny disc etched with spiral patterns. "A Vajda cannot be chosen lightly," she said. "Only one born with the mark can lead."
"What mark?" Mila asked, still crouched over the boy's bandage.
Soileen met her gaze, eyes wet and ancient with knowing. "The mark of belonging. Of blood that binds this people to the lake, to the old spirits of the water. It's not painted or carved. It's in the soul. Rhona knew where it lay."
Mila frowned. "She never said—"
"She did," Soileen interrupted softly. "But you refused to hear it. Rhona didn't lie, Mila. You are not celestial. You were born of the Vlachy. You came from the lake."
The silence that followed was crushing. Edward stood frozen, the wet rags hanging limp in his hands. Volmira's eyes lifted briefly from Rosum's face.
If she wasn't a Sensitive, then who were they? Were they even siblings?
"That's impossible," Mila said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Father—"
Soileen shook her head. "Your Father takes what he wants. He steals from every race, every world. I don't know the details. But you were not born a Celestial being, you were born a human. That much I know. The sooner you stop denying the truth, the sooner you can take control of your life."
The words hit Mila like a physical blow. "No," she said, backing away. "I'm not—"
"You are," Soileen said firmly. "You've already done what no one else could. You expelled him from your brother's body, I've never seen anything like it."
Areilycus' voice cut through. "We didn't even know he could possess someone," he said bitterly. "He wasn't there. He was still in Millennia. How could he reach this far? And if can, then why didn't he come himself?"
Mila's throat tightened. "He's not invincible."
Mila felt Areilycus' presence before she saw him move. He reached for her hand, his touch hesitant. She recoiled.
"Don't," she hissed.
She turned sharply and walked into the trees, her skirt catching on roots, her breath ragged.
"Mila!" Areilycus called after her, but she didn't stop. He followed, as he always did.
"You can't blame yourself, darling," he said, catching up. "Our feelings didn't cause this."
"Of course they did!" she shouted.
Ari clenched his fists. The gold in his veins pulsed under his skin. "He already knew he could kill us. But he hasn't. Ask yourself why."
Mila turned, eyes wide, wild. "Because he's sick!"
"No," Ari said, voice low, insistent. "Because he can't leave Millennia. He can't leave Tripolis."
Mila froze. "What?"
"He's trapped," Ari said, stepping closer. "That's why he needs vessels. Think about it. We offended him, we fled our posts, abandoned our duty. Why hasn't he come for us yet? Why sent two scholars after us instead of Bara or Cleo?"
"Because Ros and Mira are expandable to him."
The truth settled between them, heavy and alive.
She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears and dirt. "You've never called me 'darling' before," she said softly, almost disbelieving.
Ari's expression softened. "You deserve something new," he said. "Something untainted by him."
He touched her cheek and kissed her. Just once. Just enough.
Behind them, the forest exhaled, and the stars watched.
He watched.
***
Edward stood near the shed skin, the translucent membrane still slick with the cave's residue. He had Heraldine's crew in a loose semicircle behind him; even the women who'd been laughing that morning looked sober now. He had scraped the cave drawings into rough rubbings and carried one here like an accusation.
Ari came up slowly, legs dragging behind him. The moment Bonnie abandoned his side, he became worse. Edward flinched seeing his blanched face.
Edward did not waste time. "I went away with the intention to betray you. Or at least, to find a loophole."
Ari drew a protective arm around Mila. Edward shelved his few theatrics. He told them plainly. "I went looking for Gorgo, Neppie's younger sister. She's the only one with knowledge of witchcraft that could potentially get us out of this predicament, but she disappeared two years ago when Neppie died. Her name used to be softer. The sea took most of that name and all the things that made her beautiful. Salacia stole her beauty and her tail. Turned her into a monster."
Ari's hand went to his chest. "Stole how?"
"I have no idea. All I know is she has seaweed where her hair was and two hobbled legs where her tail used to be."
Mila paced a small circle, hands clenching and unclenching. "I think it's time we talk, Captain. Just you and I."
***
Edward folded his arms. "I don't have a moral tutorial for you." He crouched and washed his hands in the lake that was turning black as he did so.
"You left not to get provisions but to betray me."
"I left to see if it was possible to betray you. And cut the crap, would you? Am I supposed to believe that while you were down there negotiating with Salacia, you never struck a deal that would screw me?"
Mila's laugh went soft and ugly. "It can't be done! You can't resurrect a person!"
"He wasn't a person!" Edward yelled. It was strange to Mila that he remained in his squat, refusing to get up and get level-eyed. As if being on the same level as her didn't mean anything to him. He met her with something like humility.
"He planned to become one," Edward said. It was a mewling, pitiful sound not worthy of him. "He wanted to leave the throne to Gorgo and strip himself of divinity. To live one final life with me. Instead, he got killed and buried on an island that I spent a year of my life looking for. It's like … it's like he wanted me to come find him but refused to make it easy. What's a guy supposed to make of that, huh?"
Mila stared out at the water then. Outnumbered. Outwitted. "What's a gal supposed to make of her beloved constantly pulling and pushing in the opposite direction?"
Edward's shoulders eased fractionally. "Exactly. Then she learns he had sent his sister to do the job too, like a failsafe, because he knew you were not competent enough to bring him back."
"Wait, are we talking about me or you?" she smirked.
Edward's face did not soften, only hardened to the shape of the choice. Mila decided to extend kindness, to fish that which Ari taught her from deep within. Compassion, understanding.
"Everything I thought I knew is a lie. I wish I could tell you that godhood makes the pain easier. It doesn't. It just makes it eternal."
Edward reached for a smooth black stone lying on the shore and gave it to her. "I know that if you don't help me, I have no other choice than to accept it. I'm not a Celestial, I'm not a Nereid, I'm just me. But it's not about me. I made a promise, Mila. And I'll make another to you. If you help me figure this out, my life will be yours. My crew will be yours. Whatever war you are fighting with that son of a bitch up there, I will stand by your side when the time comes and make a stand with you."
Captain Kinsley kneeled, bowing his head. "Please, goddess. Help me."
***
The translucent skin stretched across the deck of the Lioness, its iridescent scales shimmering under the midday sun. Captain Edward Kinsley stood at the center, his weathered hands resting on the hilt of his sword as he surveyed the scene before him. The crew formed a protective circle around the massive shed skin, their eyes darting between the bizarre spectacle and their captain.
Areilycus approached slowly, unsteady on his feet from the lingering effects of his storm sickness now that Bonnie remained at the camp with Volmira for protection, the effects of radiation were coming back.
Mila hovered close by, ready to catch him if he stumbled.
"What in the living fuck is that?" Areilycus asked. Mila rubbed his chest, creating soothing circles across his core. Vulgarity was not a good sign of stability when it came to Ari.
Edward's lips curled into a grim smile. "That, my boy, is what we found in the caves of Isla Rhea. Or rather, what Gorgo wanted to show us when Heradine and I fell through a ditch of the cave system."
Mila's brow furrowed as she studied the shed skin. "It's enormous. But how...? Bonnie's so small." She trailed off, her eyes widening in realization.
"No, it can't be. You don't mean to suggest..."
"It's where we found her, Mila," Edward said.
"It could have been her mother," Ari suggested.
"Hardly," Edward said. "Neppie told me that there was only one dragon. One. That's why he sent two people he tr-...loved most to make sure the dragon's heart wouldn't fall into the wrong hands."
Areilycus swayed slightly, steadying himself against the ship's railing. "Bonnie? But she's just a baby. How could she have grown so large and then shrink?"
Edward's eyes narrowed as he recalled the hidden cave system. "There's more to Bonnie than meets the eye. Heraldine and I discovered something else when we fell through that blasted goo hole."
Edward reached into his coat pocket, pulling out several sheets of rough sandpaper. He carefully unrolled them, revealing intricate copies of the cave drawings.
"I traced these as best I could," he explained, spreading them out on a nearby crate for the twins to see.
Mila and Areilycus leaned in, their eyes widening as they took in the strange images. The first drawing showed a snake and a woman intertwined, their bodies forming an intimate, almost loving embrace.
"What does this mean?" Areilycus whispered, his fingers hovering over the sandpaper.
Edward's voice was grim. "Keep looking."
The snake morphed into a brilliant flame, while the woman's form shifted into that of a majestic dragon.
"Is that... Bonnie?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the lapping waves against the ship's hull.
The captain nodded slowly, then gestured to the next drawing. The flame had spread, filling the entire image with pinpricks of light - stars scattering across a cosmic void. From these stars, figures emerged - human-like, yet not quite human.
Areilycus felt a chill run down his spine. "They look like... us. Like Sensitives."
Mila's hand trembled as she pointed to the final image. The star-born figures were disintegrating, turning to dust. And there, in the corner, the snake had reappeared - but now it took the form of a menacing wolf.
"It's us," Mila said, her face pale with shock. "It's how he gave us our divinity."
"It's clear this little dragon and your divine father have quite a bit of history," Edward said.
"We cannot kill her," Ari said. "Bonnie may be the key to defeating him."
"I'll find a way," Mila promised. "But first, we'll deal with the Queen breathing down our necks."