A Dawn of Dragonfire

LYANA



"Well, here it is," she said quietly and couldn't suppress a shudder. "The Gates of the Abyss."

Lyana raised her tin lamp, shining its light against the archway. It rose fifty feet tall, dwarfing her; she could have walked through this archway even in dragon form. Its keystone was shaped as a dragon's skull, horns blood red. Its remaining stones bore engravings of screaming mouths full of shattered teeth. Heavy doors filled the archway, wrought of iron that had not rusted in two thousand years. Cold air blew from beneath those doors, sneaking under Lyana's armor to chill her flesh. She clutched her sword's hilt like she would clutch Mother's hand as a child.

Standing at her side, Elethor drew a silver key from his tunic; it hung around his neck on a chain. All members of royal House Aeternum owned these keys, Lyana knew, even the young Princess Mori. They unlocked all forbidden places here in the underground: the library of ancient codices, the Chamber of Artifacts… and these dark doors to the Abyss.

"Are you ready, Lyana?" he said. "Are you afraid?"

Lyana shuddered to remember the stories her nurse would tell her of this place. The old woman whispered of horrors that dwelled below—rotting bodies that walked, naked moles the size of horses, ancient demons that could shrivel your body with a glance. Lyana had never believed those stories, not even as a child, but then again, she had never believed in phoenixes either. She had never believed she would lose her beloved. She had never believed she would see her friend and princess, the dear Mori, broken and ravaged and left a trembling shell of a girl. Who was to say what horrors truly existed in the world, and what were the whispers of old wives?

Yet she only glared at Elethor. She would show him no fear.

"I'm not afraid," she said. "I am a knight of Requiem. We will find this Starlit Demon, and we will tame him."

Elethor looked at her strangely, as if trying to read her mind.

"But I am afraid." His voice was soft. "This is a dark place, and I wonder if, on our quest to defeat the phoenixes, we unleash more beasts whose evil we cannot expect." He lowered his head, took a deep breath, and looked back up at her. Compassion softened the fear in his eyes. "It's okay to fear this darkness. Even great warriors feel fear; Orin would too."

Her insides trembled, cold sweat trickled down her back, and her head spun. But Lyana only raised her chin, tightened her jaw, and whispered, "I don't."

Slowly, Elethor placed his key in the heavy lock. It scraped against the metal, a sound like a banshee. Suddenly Lyana wanted to stop him. Don't! she wanted to cry. Don't unleash what horror dwells there! There must be another way! Yet she only tightened her lips, clutched her sword, and took a deep breath. Be brave, Lyana, she told herself. You are a bellator. You are a warrior. Whatever waits behind these doors, you can slay it.

Elethor paused, key in lock, and looked at her. She stared back, silent. He took a deep breath and shut his mouth. He seemed to be considering his words, then spoke again in a low voice.

"Lyana, I don't know what lurks beyond these doors. I don't know how long we will live once we walk past them, or if we'll even live long enough to enter. Before I unlock these doors, I want to tell you how sorry I am for your loss."

A deep sadness seeped into Lyana, like an underground river of ice. She sighed and lowered her eyes. Suddenly thoughts of demons and skeletons paled in her mind, overcome with this sadness, the tragedy of all this death.

"I know," she said softly. "I'm sorry too, Elethor."

Pain filled his eyes like ghosts in old castles. He placed a hand on her shoulder. His voice was hoarse.

"Lyana, I know this might not mean much now, in these tunnels, in the cold dark. And I know that you're a strong, capable woman, and I know you're not afraid. But however I can, I swear to you: I will look after you. I…" He swallowed. "I'm not a warrior like Orin was. I'm not strong as he was, nor as wise. But I promise you, Lyana. I will protect you however I can—in the Abyss, and if we return from it. For whatever it's worth, you have my sword, and you have my loyalty."

She couldn't stop a sad smile from touching her lips. She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, Elethor," she said. "But for now, focus less on protecting me and more on finding this Starlit Demon. All right?"

His eyelids flinched, as if her words stabbed him, and Lyana sighed inwardly. What did he want her to do? To throw her arms around him, weep and kiss him, and vow her eternal love? He was her betrothed now; his older brother had died, so he had inherited all of Orin's claims, his titles, and his woman. Lyana was a daughter of Requiem, and she accepted her laws. That did not mean her grief left her. That did not mean she could forget how Elethor had spent years shunning the court, yearning for the woman who now burned it. He confessed that he lacked Orin's strength and wisdom. Did he want her to deny it? She could not. He was her king now. She would respect that. But love him… love him like she loved Orin? Accept him as a hero, a protector? She could not.

"All right, Lyana," he said softly, and pain lived in his voice. "We enter the darkness."

He turned back to the lock, took a deep breath… and twisted the key.

The lock clanked.

The doors to the Abyss, this dark lair of secrets deep below Requiem, began to creak open.

Lyana shuddered and gritted her teeth. Iciness stung her fingertips and roiled her belly. She would never admit it, of course. She was a soldier. A heroine of Requiem. She must show strength, especially now, especially to Elethor. And yet as the doors creaked open, revealing mist and shadow, cold sweat washed her.

She did not know what she was expecting. Demons to attack? Rotting bodies to lunge at all? Soon the doors were opened wide, and she saw nothing but shadow, smoke, the glimmer of smooth stone walls. That was all. Just a tunnel. And yet this darkness filled her with more fear than skeletons or demons would. She could kill skeletons or demons, smash them with her sword, beat them down, defeat them with all her skills of war. It was the darkness she feared. The secrets. The unknown.

"Are you sure you're all right, Lyana?" Elethor asked, standing at the doorway. "You're pale, and your fingers are trembling."

She snorted and shoved by him.

"Out of my way, Elethor." She drew her sword. "I'm going in."

She walked through the archway, sword drawn in one hand, tin lamp in the other. She delved into the darkness.

The chill filled her bones. Mist swirled around her legs. As she walked, her boots clanked, echoing like the laughter of demons. Her lamplight flickered against smooth walls carved by old streams. The floor curved steeply, forcing her to move slowly. The tunnel plunged into darkness like a giant's gullet. She kept listening for enemies, but heard nothing—no grunts of beasts, no scuttling feet, no screeches of ghosts.

There is nothing here, she told herself. No demons. No skeletons. She clenched her jaw and held her sword high.

Bring me strength, Levitas, she prayed to her sword as she walked. It was an ancient weapon, its blade engraved with coiling dragons, its pommel shaped as a claw. Her father traced its lineage back to Terra Eleison, a knight of Requiem who'd survived the griffin war, helped found Nova Vita, and restored their house to glory. Many Vir Requis today carried longswords, heavy weapons for both hands; Elethor carried one at her side, the old blade Ferus. Lyana's sword was shorter, faster, easy to wield in one hand; the weapon of a knight.

Your sword was ancient even then, Father had said when giving her the blade five years ago. It had defended Requiem for centuries and slain many of her foes. Lyana tightened her fingers around the leather grip. Under the sky, she fought with claw and fire, a dragon roaring her fury. Here she would wield this ancient shard of steel.

May Levitas defend me underground, she thought, in darkness, far from the sky of Requiem. Shine bright, Levitas. Shine bright, for the world is full of more darkness than I can bear.

They kept walking down the tunnel. Lumps rose upon the walls like warts. When Lyana touched one, she found it clammy. She imagined herself walking through the veins of some great beast of stone, and she shuddered. She held her lamp out at arm's length, but could see only several feet ahead.

A screech filled the darkness.

Lyana froze, panting. She raised her sword.

"What was it?" she whispered. A shiver ran through her.

Elethor stood frozen by her side, his own sword raised. He stared ahead, but the darkness nearly swallowed their lamplight. They saw nothing. Silence filled the tunnels.

"I don't know," he whispered. "Was it the Starlit Demon?"

Lyana squared her jaw. "If it is, we will tame the beast. Come, we go farther."

They walked five more steps before the screech sounded again.

It was so loud, Lyana grimaced. She nearly dropped her sword and lamp to cover her ears. The tunnels shook and a crack ran along a wall. Many feet pattered in the distance, clanking, scratching. The screech went on and on, rising and falling, a banshee cry. Lyana's insides trembled and she could barely breathe. A ghostly light glowed ahead and shadows scurried.

"Stay by me, Lyana," Elethor said, hand clutching his sword. Sweat beaded on his brow.

Keeping her eyes on the tunnel ahead, Lyana laid down her lamp and drew her dagger. She held both blades before her, ready to fight whatever enemy approached.

A shadow lurched.

A creature emerged from the darkness.

Lyana grimaced. Her heart burst into a gallop, and cold sweat flooded her.

With a screech, the creature scuttled forward on many legs. It looked like a great centipede, many feet long and wide as a tree trunk. Its body was made of segments, each bloated and furry like the body of a spider. Its curved legs looked sharp as blades. Worst of all, however, was not the body that snaked behind, but the front of the creature.

It had the head, torso, and arms of a human girl, no older than ten. Her flesh was pale, her red eyes rimmed in black, her hair scraggly. Her bloated belly was slashed open, revealing cockroaches that nested and bred inside her. The girl grinned, showing rotting teeth, and raised her arms. Her hands ended with curving, yellow claws that dripped sizzling liquid. Below her belly, her centipede body pulsed black and hairy, coiling into the shadows behind her.

"Stars," Elethor whispered.

"What are you?" Lyana shouted at the beast, baring her teeth. "Why do you dwell in Requiem?"

The creature stared at her, eyes dripping pus, and tilted her head. She opened her mouth wide, and her tongue rolled out, a foot long and covered in ants. She screeched, a deafening sound that made Lyana grimace and scream.

"This is… not… Requiem!" the creature said, voice like shattering glass. Blood dripped from her eyes down her cheeks. "This is the Abyss. I am Nedath, guardian of this realm. Turn back, creatures of sunlight! Leave our… world…"

Her voice turned to wind that howled, blowing back Lyana's hair. The creature thrust herself up, rising ten feet tall upon her bloated segments. Her spider legs stretched out like black blades. Blood spurted between the demon's sharpened teeth, spraying Lyana's face. The droplets stung like acid.

"Turn back, Nedath, guard of the Abyss!" Elethor cried. He waved his lamp, as if light could cow this creature of darkness. "I am King Elethor Aeternum. My forefathers sealed you here. Now obey me."

The creature cackled, hair rustling with maggots. With a screech, she spat a glob of blood and mucus at Elethor. He swung his blade, blocking the discharge. What droplets sprayed him sizzled, and he cried in pain.

"Turn back, creature!" Lyana cried, waving her sword. "I am Lyana Eleison, daughter of Lord Deramon, knight of Requiem! You will kneel before me."

She swung her sword, but Nedath pulled her body back, and the blade whistled through air. The creature cackled and spat a glob of bloody mucus. Lyana had no time to parry, and the glob hit her face.

Her eyes blazed with pain. She could not breathe or see. She screamed; it felt like her face was being ripped off.

"Elethor!" she tried to shout, but the mucus entered her mouth, choking her, running down her throat like a living thing.

"Back, creature!" Elethor cried, voice muffled, a million leagues away. "Turn back into the darkness."

Lyana could not see him. She swung her sword blindly, not knowing if she hit anything. The creature screeched again, but she could barely hear.

She fell. She hit the ground. She dropped her weapons, clawed at her face, tried to tear the slime off her eyes, her nose, her mouth. Her head hit the ground, and she heard only a distant screech, a cry of horror, and then nothing but cruel cackling.