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PART THREE:
THE REALM

Prologue

In the luminous spaces of the Dream Mountain, the choir of voices was soft but unceasing, even as individual draconae joined and left the choir, where the retelling of the words kept the memories alive in the heart of the Mountain. Among them was a memory passed down through uncounted generations, from a time just after the dark one's earlier defeat in a terrible battle with dragonkind. This memory was treasured above all. This memory was of the time when the prophetic visions had appeared. . . .

 

* * *

 

In those days, reverberations of the first war with Tar-skel had not yet died down; but so weary were the draconae, and so preoccupied with tending the hatchlings and fledglings, that the watch on the dreamfires had, for a time, diminished. Just one aging dracona named Sunfire was tending the Forge of Dreams at the heart of the Mountain, when the fire blinked—dimmed—and to her astonishment, produced a dark opening in its blazing light, where figures appeared to move and cry out. Sunfire, half lost in her own dreams, came to alertness in fear and bewilderment. At first she thought it an astounding glimpse of the Final Dream Mountain, where departed souls dwelled in the warmth and light of the fires. But some inner sense told her that this was something different, something extraordinary; it was a glimpse into another world . . . or another time. She heard a voice whispering to her . . .

Before she could make sense of any of it, Sunfire fell into a trance, visions pouring into her mind like tongues of fire from the dream forge. How long she lay that way, she didn't know; but she knew she was not wholly alone, she felt another there with her, a being of shadow and stealth, a being neither of the Mountain nor of the fire. When she awoke, it was to the rustling of glassy wings, the cries of other draconae coming to her aid. Were they the ones she had felt? No—she recalled a sharp movement and a glimpse of the shadow darting away, down into the underrealm from which it had come. Her cry of warning was too late; the servant of the Enemy was already gone, or hidden. But perhaps it made no difference: the Enemy had already been defeated. What harm could its servants do now?

As she opened her mouth to explain to the others, utterly different words rose unbidden in her throat. Unable to stop or control them, she heard herself crying:

 

The dark one returns
Its spells to weave
That those who forget
Lose all they believe.

 

The realm will quake
But little know
The power that yet
Remains to grow.

 

To tear from its midst
The fires of being,
That dragons may die,
Unknowing, unseeing.

 

Sunfire gasped for breath, nearly overcome by astonishment at her own words. She knew that they came not from her, but from the vision in the fire. The draconae murmured and rustled, repeating her words as she spoke them. Her voice deepened as she sang:

 

From beyond life
will come one

 

From beyond hope
will come one

 

Without friend
will come one

 

And the realm shall tremble.

 

Innocent of our ways
will come one

 

Challenging darkness
will come one

 

Speaking her name
will come one

 

And the realm shall tremble.

 

The words poured from her throat in great waves, filling her with dread and wonder. The old dracona nearly fainted as she sang, and finally groaned:

 

The one will fall
as the battle is fought

 

Upon her death
is the ending wrought.

 

From that one
comes a beginning

 

From that one
comes an ending

 

From that one
all paths diverge

 

And surely the realm shall tremble.

As she gasped for weary breath, she glimpsed the shadow-thing again, fleeing through the underrealm, out of the Mountain—and she knew that it had heard it all, heard all that the other draconae were chorusing and repeating, committing to memory. The others seemed to understand already what Sunfire was only hazily beginning to see, that these words were for the heart and soul of dragonkind. They were not for the present but for the future, for the ages to come.

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