Legend of Ransera

Though Arvælyn's lip briefly curled in the prelude to a snarl, a warm smile from Aværys exuded a soothing salve that quelled whatever covetous inclinations were starting to brew. Besides, there were far more important matters than fidelity at hand. Arry certainly hadn't anticipated such an immediate answer to the suggestion he hazarded. He'd thought this might be an excursion to take at a later date, but dragons were severe and he supposed severity was sometimes also swift.

As Zalkyriax strode ahead, Aværys and Varvara would pause simultaneously. She would turn to the others and wordlessly instruct them to halt their steps as the dragon approached the gateway. The pale, slender elf with his wings of burnished platinum would stride ahead as, by and by, his skin began to glow with an æthereal white light that consumed his humanoid form. It expanded in a sudden, explosive burst and then dimmed to reveal the colossal Crownwyrm in all his draconic glory. A rumbling purr shook the chamber, as Zalkyriax relished the comfort of being in his own, luminescent skin once more. With a snort of black smoke, he curled his long, serpentine neck to glance back at the others.

"Ad astra." His booming voice declared, as he turned back toward the Rift Gate and, after a deep inhalation, opened his massive maw to emit a potent beam Radiant Starfire: an otherwordly, white-hot flame that seemed to awaken the gate. As the fires receded, the dim red images that had been playing upon the wall, were vibrant.



A massive city ostensibly hewn of prismatic crystal spread out before them. The gleaming structures were much larger than those inhabited by humanoids, and the skies were alive with dragonflight. Zalkyriax lurched forth into the alien environs.

"Keep close, Finn." Aværys bade, "Though the heat be not so oppressive thither, the pull of the planet be as covetous as thine amatus. Unaided wouldst thou be held so firm in its embrace thou wouldst be crushed."

"Will I need-...?"

"Thou shalt brook it, dragonkin. This world is part of thee. As for thou, Kala... if thou hast no means of defence against so grave a gravity, stand thee in mine orbit and I shall shield thee."

Arvælyn looked to Finn apologetically. The bard had asked much of the Thalamum Draconum when he'd first returned from it, and now it was little more than an anteroom to another, grander setting. But at least it was one they would embark upon for the first time together. If Finn still sought the approval of his family, Arry couldn't fathom a much clearer sign that he'd earned it.

Once they'd been girded and guarded against the greater gravity, they would step through to find the other side of the Rift Gate looked as though it had been forged of platinum. There were no signs of Sol'Valen's influence on this side of things, and they would immediately find themselves flanked by two much smaller (and presumably much younger) dragons, who appeared to be guarding this outdoor portal that stood upon a hill overlooking the city. They bowed their great heads to Zalkyriax, and he addressed them in the preternaturally potent draconic tongue. The pursuant exchange was brief and ostensibly dismissive on the part of the Crownwyrm, who shifted to allow them a clear view of the city.

"This is the city of Genesis, hatching place of Zalkyrion and capital of Ketherys." He announced, sounding as cavalier as he had during Kala's interrogation.

When Arry's ire was aborted by Avaerys' goodwill, Finn relaxed and approached the god. Unsure whether he would be able to keep his head when marveling at the draconic city on another world, he reached out for Avaerys' hand and twined his fingers through the golden digits. If remarked upon, he would flush, but unless his god denied him, this was how he would remain close and safe.

"Aye, Dominus," he murmured. He was strong, but he was yet a mortal man, not made for foreign gravities.

Kala, for her part, was unsure how she would react. As such, she moved closer to Varvara for caution's sake, but would step away and stand on her own if her burgeoning divinity allowed it.

The starfire gleamed in her eyes, and she knew then that there was something tying her to the platinum dragonflight. Perhaps later, there would be more. They passed through the Rift Gate and marveled. The nearest thing in beauty Finn had seen was Arcas' realm; the nearest thing for Kala had been Atoria. But comparison paled with such places of glory. Suffice it to say, they were all sufficiently awed.

Both Finn and Kala attended to the words that passed between the dragons, though neither were yet adept at translation.

When Kala stepped full into the light of the dragon star, the light seemed to brighten. Her gaze rose, as did her hand in greeting.

Hello, my friend.

If the star responded, it was not in words Finn could hear. His hand squeezed Avaerys' in silent appreciation.

"Sweeting." Aværys purred as Finn sought out his hand and extended a protective aura beyond his body to encompass Finn's as well. Varvara would do the same for Kala, and all would trudge forward through the gateway.

Arvælyn staggered slightly as the sudden shift in gravity as he crossed the threshold from one world to another. He lifted his arm, staring at the hand that felt heavier than it had upon Ransera, though it looked no different. He lifted his gaze then to the blinding beauty of the colossal crystalline city spread out before them.

"There are so many of you..."

"Of us." The Crownwyrm corrected in the thunderous basso profundo that came with his true form and full breadth. "Many who came here after the Rending, and more still who never left when Zalkyrion returned to Ransera. Our family feels a responsibility to shepherd the younger races of our motherworld, which is not shared universally amongst our flight. Many prefer the tranquility and enlightenment of their own ilk to the tireless toil of striving to improve so flawed a world as Ransera. Come." The dragon stalked ahead, leading their procession down the smooth, crystal road leading down the hill upon which the Rift Gate loomed.

"Beautiful, is she not?" Varvara smiled to Kala as she basked in the glow of Re'hyax. "We are closer to the centre of the universe, here. This is an holy place." There was indeed something markedly different about the star that hung the Ketheryan firmament- it was more than a massive ball of mundane elements, it contained an incredible amount of æther that infused the crystalline surface of the land they trod and the very air they breathed. All of their magicks would feel amplified, and their æther stores constantly and indefatigably restored. It was dizzying... intoxicating.

"I am given to understand that thou art to yond dragonling betrothed..." Aværys grimaced, "I assume mine invitation is forthcoming."

When they were through, Finn felt the idea of heaviness, but either Aværys' strength ran through his sinews or his body just ignored the increased gravity. In either case, he felt invincible with that grace. And the world was a marvel.

Kala felt Ransera's star calling her mournfully back even as the Ketheryan sun welcomed her with a symphony of corruscating light. There were tears in her eyes when she turned her head to acknowledge Varvara's question. The greater concentration of stars here buoyed her, and she lost hold of her divine nimbus. It unfolded like a flower to the sun and, fed by their light, she became undeniably holy. Quirks of her face and form were suddenly features of unearthly beauty. Her eyes were as stars. Her feathers were as a solar corona. She was no danger to those around her, of course, but this place was more welcoming to to her—to Her—than Ransera's soil.

Re'hyax. Somehow its name sounded more correct when she said it thus. She stepped away from Varvara's side and was pleased to find that she was able to stand without difficulty. In fact, she thought she could fly hear with even less effort than at home, gravity be damned. Gravity had no claim on her now.

"...if His Exalted Majesty approves and the Umbrian Senate can agree on the prenuptial agreement. I, I don't know how weddings work in Solunarium, but I was hoping you would officiate or... stand with me at the altar..." Finn blinked. He should have known Aværys would know his heart and know his plans, even if he was largely quiet about them until such time as there was something solid to announce. He didn't know if Vrædyn would officiate or if it would be Zalkyriax himself. "I would beg your presence, one way or another."

He brought the perfect, divine hand up to press his lips to Aværys' knuckles.

Under the light of their Sacred Sun, the Founders of Solunarium, too, appeared altered. It hadn't been apparent at first, but some of the conscious illusions they wore upon Ransera slowly eroded. In this draconic realm, deception was anathema and truth reigned supreme. The two Moritasi somehow appeared more draconic... More like their descendant, and like the Seemings worn by the Zalkyrians during their stately appearances in the Umbrium. At first their horns and wings looked like gossamer... like the illusion that had bedecked Finn, until this land of harsh truth stripped them away. But the longer they remained under the light of Re'hyax, the more solid and obtuse these features would appear. Arvælyn was distracted enough by their surroundings that he didn't seem to take note of the shift, which happened slowly enough to fool the mind into feeling that these features may have always been present. As for the Founders themselves, they would leave the matter unremarked upon.

Varvara smiled faintly as Kala stepped away to claim her own footing on an alien world made more familiar by the mystic orb glowing above them. Her tears were appropriate, and communicated all that was warranted to the mind of the Mistress of Chains.

"A prenuptial agreement?" Aværys paused, "What means this? Some modern innovation, or a foreign one?" He shook his head,

"No matter. 'Twas the venue I wished to broach with thee. An if Solunarium be fraught with too much byzantine complexity that might mar thine experience, I would offer unto thee my palace on the Plane of Majesty to play host to thy rites. There couldst thou render thy vows as thou wouldst outside of Solunarium's strictures, and return to see them enforced as thou willst. The knot having been tied in My realm means they must, perforce, abide whatever terms ye come to. Why reinvent, when thou canst circumvent, the wheel?" The Rex Regnum posited, through a smirk.

As they strode the broad path, constructed for creatures closer to Zalkyriax's breadth than the humanoids, by and by a formation of draconic figures would come into view in the skies above. It would soon become clear that they were en route to intercept their procession.

"The agents of your great uncle approach, Arvælyn." The Crownwyrm announced, causing the Crown Prince to tense up with nerves.

"Well, fuck..." He whispered.

Finn could only marvel at the beauty of his god here in the realm of the platinum dragonflight. His merely mortal mind could not ken whether it was a change or he just noticed things under the alien sun. But regardless, the offer touched him. Finn was - as some knew - quite an emotional person. He was unaware, but the illusion of wings would not stand here, it seemed. But his own face and form were subtly changed. Here, he was more himself in ways that were likely ineffable, even for a bard of his caliber.

Blue eyes watered and a respectful hand came up to cup Avaerys' divine cheek.

"Thou'rt generous, my God," he said, unconsciously elevating his diction. "In the fullness of time, we shall swear our oaths before Thee in Thine own realm." But he contained himself, not wanting to slow his divine master down. There were greater things afoot here in the grand scheme of things than his own wedding and happiness.

Kala, too, was changed, albeit less subtly than Finn. Out of Varvara's nimbus, her own was clearer. The golden sheen of her wings was more pronounced, and platinum blond hair shone like true platinum. The edges of her seemed to respond to the light of the sun. Finn had no idea about such things, but perhaps the gods and dragons would note how her aura seemed to respond as though to Ry'haex's solar winds, as though she had her own stellar corona.

Much of her experience was internal, but when she saw the approaching contingent of dragons, she fretted, "I should have brought a gift."

Finn, on the other hand, was content, knowing he would be nigh invisible in the shadow of such luminaries, but he did reach out to weave his symphony into his betrothed's as though their hands held each other, and offered him solace and support. For more and more things, that was all he could do.

If Aværys noticed Finn's nod to his archaic diction and dialect, he didn't make a show of it. One could almost believe the Deus Imperator hadn't troubled himself to notice that language had evolved at all in His absence.

"Mine adored Sister might balk, arguing that marriage is a chain to be forged better in Her realms, but she did tarry whiles I conceived of this notion." Indeed, She seemed more interested in Her present company, scrutinising Kala under this new light with the vigilance of the Vigilia Assessors who'd scanned her during her time at the citadel. The approach of a V-shaped formation of dragons in flight was enough to turn the Mistress of Chains' eyes away from the godchild.

"Thou didst hardly have time to prepare..." Varvara consoled, at Kala's regrets over their empty-handed visit.

By and by their procession would pause as nine adult platinum dragons in blinding, bright armour alighted in their prior path. The dragon at the point of the V, whose armour was more ornate, lowered its great head in a gesture that was echoed by the others.

"Are you come to usurp another throne, exalted nepovunculus?" The dragon was speaking Vastian and, though the final word would not be known to Finn, his comprehension of the language and the context were likely enough to glean that it was a combination of the words for 'nephew' and 'uncle'.

"Næ, Neptamita. This is merely a social call. A new goddess is ris'n, old gods are freed and my son has returned to Solunarium. A visit to Ketherys seemed long overdue."

"Past overdue. If it is fealty you seek-..."

"A social call, Rævhalla. Nothing more." Zalkyriax replied archly. "And impromptu. So, if Arkhæothyx does not wish to greet me, I'll not hold it against him."

"He greets you, Exalted Majesty, in my voice."

"Very well. Princess Rævhalla, allow me to introduce Phædryn Arvælyn Princeps, his amatus Finn, and the new risen goddess of whom I spake: Kala. The others you ken." He turned to glance at his group, "This is Her Hallowed Highness the Rævhalla Princeps, daughter to the Prince Regent of Ketherys."

Apparently, Finn thought, Arvaelyn's father loved him more than Talon's did - here they were on another world being greeted by draconic royalty, the platinum dragonflight who prided themselves on their closeness to the Dragon King. He bowed, and quietly observed everything he could. Certainly, Arvaelyn might rely upon his memory of the event when they later spoke of it, and he might just have to write something about the dragon star...

Kala bowed too, splitting the middle between noble-to-royal and divine-to-dragon. For all her training in etiquette, recent events had forced her to make educated guesses on how best to lubricate social situations among the luminaries of various worlds and planes of existence.

"Your Hallowed Highness," she said, following Zalkyriax's cue. "I am honored to visit your home, and to meet Ry'haex in person." For a brief moment, she wondered what she would be called in the future. Kala, Mizal, and Leukos had all been given to her by her family. Talon remained Talon, maintained his earthly titles. When Avaerys and Varvara became the new incarnations of Streolon and Ugrimal, they had simply become Deus Avaerys and Varvara Domina.

Perhaps it was odd to say she was meeting a star, but it was so. Her domains had chosen her, but so far, they did seem to fit. The new, esoteric connection to the giant self-sustaining balls of gaseous flame did threaten to make her more inhuman than she already was, communing with spirits that persisted for millions of years. As yet, her twenty-odd years of life were a strange juxtaposition.

Princess Rævhalla regarded each of the figures as they were introduced. Her fiery gaze perused the form of the small demi-draconic prince. He clearly favoured his mother, with only horns and wings betraying their shared heritage. He certainly had nothing of their colossal size. She might have crushed him under talon, if she wished. That much was plain for anyone to see.

“Exalted Highness.” She growled, looking next to the human amatus. He was branded with no title in Zalkyriax’s introduction, so he would be accorded no proper greeting. By way of acknowledgement, Rhævhalla would note:

“I believe this is the first time a human has set foot upon Khetherys.” From her tone, one might infer that she did not deem this to be an event worthy of celebration. Or perhaps she was just as guarded socially as she was physically armoured by metallic shields for scales.

“Dea Kala.” She would acknowledge with a slight nod, responding in Vallenor as she’d been addressed in that ancient tongue.

“Ranseran gods we have known, but the mortal race from which you sprung is alien to our reckoning. What are they called?” She inquired, wondering if they’d arisen after her time or simply remained beneath her notice.

“Her Hallowed Highness deigned to heed the call to raise her father’s banners in answer to mine, when we crusaded in Ailizane.” Zalkyriax explained.

“I was young and sought to understand His Exalted Majesty’s fixation on your chaotic world.” The princess appended, “I failed in this, as mine uncle failed to vanquish those who stood athwart him.”

Finn would feel Aværys tense at this slight, but he did not speak in protest.

“Are we to host your party at length?” Rhævhalla inquired.

“Næ. We have tarried hither long enough.” Zalkyriax replied icily. “But consider this a prelude to more… epic overtures.” The shadow of a smile curled his toothy maw, as he slowly turned to lumber back toward the Rift Gate.

“Exalted Majesty.” The princess lowered her long neck in a bow, watching as the others turned to follow the Crownwyrm toward his sovereign realm.

Finn found himself splitting the middle too, walking a fine tightrope between respect for the platinum dragons and respect for his sovereign deity. Were he alone, he would have shown all due obeisance to the princess, but she slighted the Divine Twins, she slighted both sides of Arvælyn's august lineage, and she slighted both the humans and the Avialæ. It were better, he thought, to take a cue from his divine lord and keep mum, letting all slights slide off him like water off a duck's back.

All the same, he gave Aværys' hand a squeeze. He couldn't help but adore the golden god.

Kala thought that Dea Kala worked for the time being, though she was quietly cautious as well. All was not copacetic between the draconic powers, it seemed. She wondered how their order rankled.

"The Avialæ were fashioned from the descendants of the elves," she said, eliding race or faction as her kind were truly a catch-all. "Wings and other attributes were necessary to defeat the Hellmaw. After defeating the Hellmaw, we persisted." More threats were posed, and they rose to the occasion. Even Aværys claimed now to see the benefit of wings, though she didn't bring that up. Kala doubted what charms she owned would assuage the prickling ire between uncle and niece. But she found herself wondering what Nessena would look like when the black dragon was able to take a bipedal form.

"A pleasure," she added after filial farewells were made. She nodded to the princess, and followed the Crownwyrm. Her gaze lingered upon Re'hyax.

And while Finn would fain remain and learn more of this place, he made no protest. It was clear his presence had scored no points for Arvælyn among his more distant kin.