The portal cracked open over a dry stretch of New Mexico desert, spitting out flame, light, and Mike.
He landed in the dust with a solid thud, red embers trailing off his shoulders as he straightened, wings retracting into his back. The air was hot and still, buzzing with unseen energy. The scent of ash lingered behind him, leftovers from the Pit, from Hecate, from death itself.
He squinted into the sunlight.
The land was flat and pale, speckled with cacti and sun-bleached stones. An eerie stillness hung in the air, broken only by the faint hiss of the wind brushing the sand.
Then he heard a voice.
"About time you got here."
Mike blinked, turning.
Sitting in the sand beside a mesquite bush was a tortoise. A large one. Its eyes shimmered with intelligence, and as it turned its head toward him, its mouth curled into something like a grin.
"Binyai," Mike muttered, recognizing the energy.
The tortoise nodded once. "This form's easier on the skin in this realm. Still, it's a pain not having wings."
Mike stared at him for a moment. "You're telling me you turned into a tortoise?"
Binyai's shell glinted in the sun. "Better than a dog. Less scratching."
Mike shook his head. "Where's Hamza?"
"On his way," Binyai replied, slowly beginning to walk in a broad circle around him. "King Maymun insisted you come here before heading to Virginia. Said it was important."
Mike folded his arms. "I don't have time for important. My wife's still possessed by Hecate, and she's going to try replacing the crone I just tore apart. Time isn't exactly on my side."
"That's what I told him," Binyai replied. "Didn't seem to change his mind. Said it would be worth your while."
Mike sighed and sat on a nearby rock, the heat radiating up through his feet. His muscles still ached from the Pit. The magic Hecate had burned into his flesh hadn't fully faded.
Minutes passed. The sun climbed.
Then, a ripple of flame.
Hamza appeared, stepping calmly out of a veil of smokeless fire that parted around him. His brass armor glinted beneath a white cloak, and his eyes, glowing with restrained power, scanned the area before settling on Mike.
"You're here. Good," Hamza said.
Mike stood. "Why the delay?"
"Because you needed to speak with King Maymun," Hamza said plainly. "And before you argue, your parents are safe. I've kept them protected since your descent into the Pit. They've been treated well, and they've asked about you often."
Mike's jaw tightened. "Where are they now?"
"With King Maymun's people. Out of harm's way. Away from temples, witches, or gods."
Mike exhaled slowly.
"I need to get to Virginia. I just killed the Crone. Hecate's going to be looking for a replacement."
Hamza nodded. "She will. But not immediately."
Mike frowned. "What?"
Hamza stepped closer, his tone calm. "She doesn't replace them like chess pieces. Each of her three forms is a piece of her fragmented soul. When one is destroyed, truly destroyed, like you did, it hurts her. You dealt her a real blow. Not just symbolically. Her essence is damaged. It will take time for her to weave the ritual necessary to birth a new Crone."
Mike's fists clenched. "So I've bought time."
"You've earned time," Hamza corrected. "And now, with that time, you're going to meet King Maymun."
Mike stared at him for a moment longer, then nodded reluctantly. "Fine. But after this, we go."
Hamza turned, extending a hand. "Then come."
The flames opened again, and the two disappeared in a flash.
They emerged in a different desert.
This one shimmered with heat mirages and golden sands stretching to every horizon. The dunes were enormous, rolling waves of sunlight-blasted dust. Strange structures dotted the landscape, massive spires of bronze and gold, with runes etched across their surfaces, and archways carved in languages older than written time.
In the center of it all stood an impossible building, grand and alien. Made of sandstone and obsidian, its towers wrapped in glowing sigils that pulsed like a heartbeat. The doors were twenty feet high, carved from a single piece of glass-like crystal. Djinn of all shapes moved across balconies and bridges, some humanoid, some serpentine, some made of pure fire.
They walked toward the palace as the doors opened by unseen will.
Inside, the air shimmered with power. Runes danced in the stone. Massive braziers lined the path, each flame burning in a different color, violet, gold, blue, white.
Mike followed Hamza through the golden hallway into a towering chamber, its dome overhead patterned with constellations that shifted with each blink. Djinn stood on every tier of the room, some floating, others cloaked in shadows. All turned to watch the newcomer.
At the far end, seated on a throne of gold and obsidian, was a figure wrapped in elegant robes of crimson and sapphire. His skin shimmered like polished bronze. His eyes were molten gold. A crown hovered just above his head, spinning slowly. Long horns curled from either temple.
He stood as they approached.
"Kur! My old friend!" the king called out with a smile. "How are you?"
Mike blinked, glancing around before realizing the king wasn't speaking to him.
He was speaking through him.
Bahamut stirred.
"Half-king," Bahamut rumbled in Mike's mind.
Maymun laughed and stepped forward. "Touché old friend, Bahamut it is." He turned his gaze directly to Mike. "You'll have to forgive him. He's always had an ego the size of a continent. Refuses to go by his older names."
Mike narrowed his eyes. "You can see him."
"Of course," Maymun replied. "Djinn don't need chosen to sense the divine. We live between the realms, between flesh and thought. The veil to us is like glass to you. We see through it."
Mike glanced at Hamza, who nodded in confirmation.
"And you call him… Kur?"
"One of his names," Maymun said. "Older than Bahamut. Older than the pantheon he currently pretends not to loathe."
"I don't pretend," Bahamut growled in Mike's mind. "I loathe them openly."
Maymun chuckled. "There. See?"
Mike folded his arms. "Why did you bring me here?"
Maymun's tone shifted.
"I brought you here because the doors to Tartarus are opening."
The room dimmed, flames retreating. The surrounding djinn went silent.
Mike's pulse slowed.
"You're sure?" he asked.
Maymun nodded, more solemn now. "The artifacts stolen. The Crone's movements. The ripples in the underworld. The energies we've felt in the deepest rifts. It all points to one thing. The prison beneath the world, the place the gods sealed their predecessors is waking."
Mike thought of the murals beneath the temple. Of the titanic doors Hecate's forms had gathered around.
"And if it opens?" he asked.
"The titans and creatures from countless pantheons return," Maymun replied. "Not gods. Not demons. Not djinn. Something worse. The architects of gods. The primeval mistakes."
Hamza stepped forward. "They're not bound by domains. Not tied to concepts like war, justice, death, or sea. They are. They destroy because they exist."
Mike let that sink in.
"You believe Hecate wants to release them?"
Maymun shook his head. "Not just release them. She wants to use them. Fuse her essence with theirs. Become something… that cannot be killed. A god above gods."
Mike clenched his jaw. "Then we stop her."
Maymun looked toward the domed ceiling, his gaze lost among the shifting constellations.
"You can try," he said. "But you'll need to be more than just a man. More than a dragon. You'll need to understand what your god is hiding from you."
Mike's head snapped toward the throne. "What do you mean?"
Bahamut was silent.
Maymun only smiled.
"Kur is an ancient creature. Older than Olympus. Older than the concept of dragons as the world understands them. His flame burned when the universe was still cooling. He has killed pantheons before. Don't let his pride distract you from his purpose."
Mike's eyes narrowed. "Why does everyone keep talking around what that purpose is?"
Maymun's smile faded.
"Because some things are hard to speak aloud. Even for beings like us."
He approached Mike and placed a hand on his shoulder. For a moment, Mike felt nothing but fire. Endless, unshaped, cosmic.
"You'll see soon. When you reach her. When the doors begin to open. Just know this, Kur chose you for a reason. Whether he admits it or not."
Mike stepped back.
"Then I need to leave."
Maymun nodded. "Of course. But I ask one thing. When this is done, when your wife is free, bring her here. I'd like to meet the woman who held back a goddess with just her memory."
Mike hesitated, then nodded once.
"I will."
Hamza summoned the flame portal. Mike stepped toward it.
"Till then, Kur," Maymun said with a wink.
"I'll eat you next, half-king," Bahamut snapped.
Maymun laughed. "Go kill something you oversized calamity."
The portal swallowed them.