By Lightning, By Blood

When I started Tales of Valor and Woe about four years ago, By Lightning, By Blood was the first story I released on it. I had completed the first draft well before then, and it went through multiple revisions and edits before its initial release. The version here is another revision so that it fits better into the wider Diabolical Ascension mythos, along with other light edits.

By Lightning, By Blood is dedicated to Daniel J. Davis for his candid, in-depth feedback on multiple drafts of this piece as well as others I have written; for cheering on my writing wins; and for guiding my first steps into the practice of martial arts from afar. Your mentorship helped me gain the skill and courage that took me where I am now and continue to carry me forward. I am forever grateful.

Image credits: Petr Joura

Krag breathed in the crisp air. It was here, alone on the highest mountain peak, where the dwarf felt most at home. Thunder boomed in the clouds above. He echoed it with roars of exultation and raised his hammer Ancestor; the emerald in its head glowed brightly in tandem with the ones on his leather robes. Lightning followed the thunder as it always did, and Krag roared again. His heart pounded, and his blood rushed through his veins, as if it were trying to leap out of him and become one with the skies above. Euphoria filled him; everything was perfect.

He continued to drink in the glory of the storm, at which point he heard a loud huff. From out of the snowbanks charged a woolly rhino, given away by the force with which its feet pounded into the snow. Krag turned and hurled his hammer at the rhino. It hit the beast's right shoulder, causing it to slip and fall. Conjuring a tether of green lightning between himself and his hammer, Krag pulled the weapon back to his hand. The rhino struggled to stand; its right foreleg was shaking.

Krag knew that the beast's spirit was not broken, and that was exactly what he both loved and hated about the rhinos that inhabited these peaks. Like him, they were stubborn, perhaps to a fault. This meant that he never had a shortage of opponents to keep his skill up. However, they also tended to fight when they shouldn't, forcing him to put them out of their misery. He didn't particularly like that part. But, it looked like he would have to do it again.

The rhino attempted to charge Krag, but it slipped and fell for a second time. Krag approached the beast.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

He cast a spell, and the beast's eyes closed. Its breathing slowed considerably.

"You fought well; your rest is well-earned, mighty predator of the mountains," Krag whispered as he turned the beast to its side and placed the head of his hammer to its heart.

A jolt of lightning shot out of the hammer, and the beast fell limp. Its heart had stopped. Krag looked back up at the storm, and a single tear flowed down his face. He wiped the tear with a section of his burnt orange hair, and then he began walking down the mountain.

Death is a natural part of the cycle. Do not cry for the dead; their struggle is done, and they toil no longer. said a chorus of wind-like voices in the confines of Krag's mind.

Krag looked at the head of his hammer and saw a group of dwarven specters in the emerald, the ancestors from which his hammer drew its name.

"I know," he said, "but that doesn't make it any less painful." What made it worse was that the rhino had never had a chance; it hadn't been a fair fight. Krag had had the honor of drinking the blood of the dragon Sebboryth, taking a measure of the power within that monarch of nature and the predator of predators.

Never lose that feeling. Ancestor replied. Power without compassion is tyranny.

Krag nodded as he began walking, a melancholic smile on his face as the specters faded away. Ancestor always knew what to say.

The mountain sloped down into a taiga. The snowy, old-growth trees surrounded Krag as he traveled, barely yielding to a winding dirt trail that he knew by heart and had traveled for decades. A few cursory glances told him that the winter berries would soon be blooming. He would have to make sure to pick a basket or two; many of them had important uses during the coming solstice rituals.

Krag continued walking, soon entering a rustic village that he recognized as Darkwood. Small wooden houses with thatch roofs, all heavily worn with age, formed meandering circles around the town square. The sound of hammer on anvil rang from the smithy, the rhythm seeming to conduct the people going about their business. Most of the men were muscular, and they carried axes, hammers, adzes, and other tools of their trades. The women, though not as muscular, were still decently stout. All of the people wore animal furs and skins, with rhino and bear being the most common. Despite the fact that Krag, and all druids, worked to preserve life, he understood that killing was sometimes necessary for survival, and so he didn't hold anything against the villagers for wearing the skins. They had undoubtedly eaten the meat of those animals, too.

The people greeted Krag with smiles and waves that he returned. He recognized many of them, having been sent out to this village on multiple occasions by higher-ranking druids. Over time, he had acquired a fondness for the village, which was why he often visited after meditating.

Soon enough, a man who was clearly not one of the villagers came forth to meet Krag. Like him, the man wore leather robes, though his were entirely unadorned. He was considerably taller than Krag, and the features on his bald head looked like they had been chiseled from stone. His stave was as gnarled as the hand that held it.

"Greetings, Aodhan," Krag said.

"We do not have time for pleasantries," the man replied as his grip on his stave tightened and a grave expression took over his face.

"Stoneheart is under attack by devils. You need to go."

Tension flooded into Krag. "How did you find out this information?"

"The land whispered to me of its pain, of otherworldly creatures marring its surface. I know that you always come here after your meditation, which is why I came to meet you as quickly as I could. We do not have any more time. You need to leave." Aodhan's expression hardened further, leaving no room for argument.

Krag glared up at the sky as his grip on Ancestor tightened. He hated devils as much as the next druid, but now, it was personal. Stoneheart was his home. He had been raised in that village, worked in that village, loved in that village, cried in that village.

Calm down. Ancestor said. Anger will not solve anything right now.

Krag nodded in acknowledgement but not acquiescence, and he stalked out of the village. Once he was out of earshot, he screamed, "I will kill every last one of those devils! They will be nothing more than charred husks!"

Krag. Ancestor said.

"What?"

Calm yourself. Like the storm, you must hold your fury until your time is right. Go back to your village now and unleash it upon the wicked ones there.

Krag's only response was a curt nod.

He conjured a ball of green lightning beneath his feet, and he began to rise. He ascended over the taiga and sped toward the mountains. In the distance, he saw a large fire, and angry tears welled up in his eyes. He wiped them away and took a deep breath. He came closer to Stoneheart, a collection of worn, blocky stone structures scattered about on a plateau, and as Aodhan had said, devils were there. Krag saw a cluster of dwarves fighting off a horde of pale, bloated devils wielding halberds. Behind them was a taller devil that was a weird hybrid of insect and man with jagged spines all along its body. Krag descended upon it, swinging Ancestor with great fury. The hammer slammed into the devil, causing it to stagger back.

"You have no place here, foul denizen of Hell!" Krag seethed.

"Finally, a real challenge," the devil buzzed as it brandished its spear at Krag.

Now is the time. Ancestor said. Release your fury.

He nodded as he raised Ancestor. Bolts of green lightning descended from the sky, converging on the devil. But, the fulminating onslaught merely slid off the devil’s flesh and bounced off its carapace.

"You'll need more than that," the devil laughed as it thrust its spear at Krag.

Krag ducked under the attack and swung Ancestor at what passed for the devil's kneecap. A satisfying crack followed, and the devil fell. Just as Krag was about to usher the killing blow upon his foe, it sprang back up. Krag glanced at the devil's kneecap and saw that it had already healed. The devil drove its spear toward the dwarf with great fury, buzzing what could only be death threats in a language that Krag couldn't understand. He did his best to dodge, but the spear's barbed tip pierced his shoulder, tearing though the leather and leaving a deep, bloody gash. The devil tore its spear free with enough force that Krag was thrown to the ground, heaving and bleeding.

"Maybe I spoke too soon," the devil hissed, "Maybe you aren't such a worthy opponent after all."

Krag let out a snarl as he pointed Ancestor at his foe. A bolt of green lightning exploded from the hammer's head, struck the devil head on, and....

Nothing happened.

The devil let out a buzzing laugh. "Foolish mortal! You think that your weak magic can actually harm me? Pathetic!" It brought its spear down upon Krag, aiming for his head.

Krag beat back the spear, sending it wildly off course. With a snarl of defiance, he forced himself to stand again.

"You will not win, fell creature!" he roared, "This is my home, and I will fight for it!"

We are with you. Ancestor said. Green light radiated from the emerald atop the hammer.

With another roar, Krag unleashed the lightning that had gathered within his hammer. It exploded forth as a seething bolt that was larger and brighter than the last one. It slammed into the devil's chest, cracking its carapace and blackening the surrounding area.

A wicked grin stretched across Krag's face. Yet, before he could enjoy that minor victory, the wound had begun to knit shut, the ropes of thick, blue gore writhing as they entwined.

"Don't you understand, mortal?" the devil seethed, "Your struggle is hopeless. This place will burn, and everyone in it will die, including you. Only damnation awaits."

Krag glanced around at his surroundings. All around him, the dwarves of the village still fought, yielding nothing; his parents fought together to take down a gargoyle-like fiend.

"No," Krag shot back. "We will prevail!"

He charged the devil, swinging Ancestor. The devil kicked the dwarf and sent him staggering back. Before Krag could fully regain his footing, the devil pointed one of its claws at him and unleashed a bolt of magic that was an unholy hybrid between seething hellfire and humming necromancy. Krag fired a lightning bolt in an attempt to destroy it, but nothing happened. The bolt continued on its path and struck the dwarf, throwing him to the ground.

The flames didn't burn his robes. Instead, they leaped into his body and began to sear him from the inside out while the necromancy tore the life and vigor from his body. His screams of pain came out as muffled growls.

The devil closed what little distance remained between it and Krag and pressed the tip of its spear against the dwarf's throat.

"This is the end, mortal," the devil buzzed.

As the devil raised its spear to deliver the telling blow, Krag reached out to the blood of the dragon that flowed within him, calling upon it to aid him in his time of need. He felt a silent roar of answer come from within as new vigor flowed into his body. He echoed it with a roar of defiance, lunging and hurling Ancestor at the devil with the full force of his newly found might. The hammer's head glowed with green light as it flew, slamming into the devil's head with such force that it shattered the carapace. Both Ancestor and the slain devil hit the ground at the same time. Within a few moments, the vigor that had saved Krag flowed out of him.

The dwarf groaned as he forced himself to stand up. Every part of him throbbed with pain and fatigue. But, at least he had won. He staggered over to the devil's corpse, huffing and heaving as he retrieved Ancestor.

A glance at his surroundings told Krag that most of the devils had been slain, which was unsurprising. All of the dwarves in the village trained as warriors. What few fiends remained were lesser ones that would be dispatched quickly enough.

Krag found his way over to a large rock and sat down. He forced himself to steady his breathing and start unwinding from the fight. The dwarves of Stoneheart soon began to gather around Krag, though some of them were still fighting while others worked to put out fires. Many of those who had gathered wore scratched and dented breastplates covered in blood, but they wore weary smiles.

"It's a good thing that you showed up," one of them said, "We weren't sure if we were going to make it."

"I came as soon as I heard," Krag replied, "This village will stand for as long as I live. How are my mother and father?" He had retained close ties with them even after leaving to be trained by the druids despite the fact that most who joined the druids cut ties with their families, supposedly to devote their whole selves to the cause. Krag had never seen the point of that; his parents were just as much apart of nature as everyone else.

"It's not good," the other dwarf whispered.

"Tell me," Krag demanded.

"They... They died during the fighting." The dwarf let out a sigh of defeat. "I'm sorry."

"No!" Krag shouted the word before hanging his head in mourning. "That can't be," he whispered.

"It is."

Krag met the dwarf's gaze. "Show me where they died."

"You don't want to see it; it's a horrific sight."

"Show me where they died. Right. Now." Krag's tone was as cold as the mountain peaks.

The dwarf nodded. "If you insist, Krag."

The dwarf departed from the others, and Krag followed him. He led Krag to a hut. In the hut lay two dwarven corpses that Krag immediately recognized as his mother and father: they had the same dark grey skin, light grey eyes, and burnt orange hair. Blood and gore were caked on their armor and weapons, obviously from the devil corpses that were scattered around them. Krag knelt by his parents' corpses, forcing his body to perform the motion despite how utterly drained he felt.

As he looked into their open, lifeless eyes, a roiling wave of guilt hit him. He could have done more.

He should have done more.

His parents hadn't had the choice to sit down and rest after their first kills; they had had to keep fighting. He had seen them doing so, and he knew that he should have kept fighting as well. He should have kept fighting until the devils were gone.

The guilt quickly turned to anger that began to burn Krag from within. He should have been there with them, fighting at their side. Perhaps then, they might have lived.

Tears began to fall from his eyes, and he fought to keep himself from letting out a roar of rage.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Your rest is well-earned; your battle is done. I am proud to be your son, but I failed you." He paused as his tears continued to fall. "I failed you."

There is nothing to forgive, Krag. You came to our village and fought for us. You did your best.

Krag looked at Ancestor's emerald, and he spotted his parents among the specters.

We would never leave you, Krag. his mother said.

We are with you. Always. his father added.

Krag turned to the other living dwarf in the hut.

"Was that all of the devils?" he asked, his voice still slightly trembling.

"Yes," the dwarf said.

"Good." Krag still took a look around just to be safe. He wasn't opposed to killing more of the fiends, but he also didn't want his people to be put in any more danger than they already had been. "What is your name?"

"Daegrok."

"What can I do to help you, Daegrok?"

The dwarf's eyes widened considerably. "You druids already do so much for us, and you saved us from a threat that surely would have destroyed this place today. I cannot ask you for more help."

Krag smiled. "I grew up here. Stoneheart is my home.” The druid paused, then gave a decisive nod. “I will help rebuild it.” A quick glance at his surroundings told Krag that there was much to be done: more than a few of the village's buildings were now crumbling, and the enormous black burn marks told him everything else that he needed to know.

Without any further words from Daegrok, Krag walked over to where a group of dwarves were working on rebuilding a house block by block. All of them paused and looked expectantly at him. Krag only smiled as he bent down, picked up a stone block that was mostly intact, and began to help. Even if his parents were gone, he could still honor their legacy.

Thank you, Krag. Ancestor said as the druid picked up another block and put it back on the house.

Looks of pure awe were plastered on the dwarves' faces as they returned to their work, filled with new vigor despite the challenges that the day had already brought.

Krag labored with them until dusk, helping with as many houses as he could, no matter how dirty he got and always with a smile on his face. By the end of it, he was covered in dirt and mud, and taking the time to sit on a rock near the mountainside felt divine, as did the water from one of the waterskins that he had borrowed.

After Krag had had a few moments of blissful silence, Daegrok approached him.

Krag immediately met the dwarf's gaze. "What can I do for you?" he asked in a soft, compassionate tone.

Daegrok smiled. "You have done enough. Truly, you have. Now, it is about what I can do for you. Your parents deserve a proper funeral, and we are roasting a boar for a feast as we speak. They will be honored, and you will eat and drink your fill."

As amazing as that idea sounded to Krag right now, he shook his head. "I couldn't... Aodhan must be wondering where I am."

"Aodhan will understand that you took the time to help us and that we are repaying the favor. You are staying with us tonight, Krag. I insist."

And that was that.

Krag sat on that rock as the dwarves of the village erected grand stone tables in the center of the village, carefully carrying the pieces from the village hall and meticulously putting them together. The ornate, geometric carvings upon them had passed the test of time, and they still appeared to be as sturdy as they had been when they had first been carved centuries ago.

Shortly after that, the dwarves began setting massive platters of food upon the tables, starting with a roasted boar so large that a wooden table would have broken under its weight. Potatoes and other vegetables soon followed, and, in typical dwarven tradition, enormous kegs of ale came after that.

"The feast is ready," Daegrok announced, walking over to Krag. "Come and sit!"

With a small smile, Krag silently rose from his rock and walked over to the table, taking a seat near the back as the other dwarves joined him. He knew that he would be one of the last to eat because of it, but that was fine with him. The druids had always seen to it that he was fed, and he did not wish to impose upon his home village any more than was absolutely necessary. Druids were givers, not takers.

Daegrok walked over to a bed of wood a few feet in front of the tables upon which two dead dwarves, a man and a woman, had been laid. He turned to face the villagers.

"Tonight," he called, "we have cause for both celebration and mourning. We mourn the loss of our kin who died in the vicious devil attack that occurred today, including Krag's parents, Bromzik and Drerra, who were pillars of our community. They fought well, and they will join the Stonefather in his mighty mountain in the heavens! But, even as we mourn, we celebrate the arrival of Krag, who struck down our fell foes and helped us rebuild. We celebrate that we attained victory and live to fight another day. With the Stonefather's blessing, we will live to fight many more!" Daegrok pulled a torch from near the front of the table closest to him and lit the funeral pyre.

"Aye!" all of the dwarves except Krag cried out in unison.

Krag still raised his tankard of ale alongside them and drank.

The feast continued long into the night. Krag said little as he ate and drank his fill, but he smiled much as he watched the dwarves, his people, rejoicing. He cheered about the boasts they made, laughed about the stories they told, and watched as the inevitable drunken brawls broke out.

Eventually, he found his way to a simple, but comfortable, bed that they had prepared for him. He set Ancestor at the foot of the bed, laid down upon it, and drifted off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Krag awoke to the morning sun seeping into the stone hut that he had slept in, and he groaned at how groggy he felt. He forced himself to rise and retrieve Ancestor.

Had a little too much to drink last night? the hammer asked.

"Don't remind me," Krag groaned as he shook his head before padding out of the hut.

He wandered over to one of the tables where some of the dwarves, including Daegrok, were having a simple breakfast of bread and cheese.

"Come, Krag," Daegrok said, "join us."

Krag merely nodded as he sat down next to the dwarf, set Ancestor on the table, and began to eat. The bread was warm and fresh with a hard crust, just as he remembered from his childhood. He had to take a few moments to adjust to that; the druids preferred their bread softer and fluffier. The cheese was hard as well, and it had a nice sharp taste to it that got a smile out of Krag. It was such a simple thing, but he was glad to eat the food of his people again.

After he had swallowed a few mouthfuls, Krag spoke: "I need to speak to Sebboryth about what happened yesterday. He will know what to do."

"We fear that he is dead," Daegrok replied solemnly. "The devils had emerged from his cave."

"You had better not be lying to me." Krag's voice took on a serious tone.

The dwarf edged back slightly. "I have no reason to lie to you about this."

"Then I must avenge him." Krag's grip on his bread tightened.

"Let me gather the others, and we will go with you," Daegrok tentatively suggested.

"No." Krag spoke with a tone of cold finality. "I will not put you in unnecessary danger."

"You could die if you go alone."

"I'm willing to take that risk. With the others with me, I can't use my power freely, and Sebboryth's blood screams within me." He could now feel it pounding in his veins, calling him.

Daegrok gave a nod of concession. "May the blood of the dragon run true."

Krag set his food down, stood up, and walked away from the table. He then conjured a disk of lightning beneath his feet and ascended into the mountains; Stoneheart rapidly shrank beneath him. He landed at the entrance to a cave so large that it made him feel like a cat standing in front of a doorway. He entered and saw a towering bronze dragon with four wings. The dragon’s eyes glowed bright red, hungrily gazing down upon Krag. Immediately, he knew something wasn’t right.

"Sebboryth?" Krag said, "What happened to you?"

"A great thing, Krag," the dragon rumbled, "Come, my son, come and join me."

"No. I will not join you in this corruption." Krag assumed a defensive stance.

"There is no corruption, only power. Come to me and bask in it."

"I will not."

"You do not crave more power? Your lightning and your hammer are nothing compared to what I can offer you now. Come, my son, and reap the rewards of the strong."

"Never. You once made a pact to help the druids maintain the balance of life, and now you have turned your back on it. I may have your blood, but I am your son no more, and I will have no part of this hell-spawned corruption." Yet, despite the fact that he denied the dragon aloud, Krag could not ignore the small part of his mind calling him to join Sebboryth. Blood called to blood.

"Three times you have denied me, and only three chances will I give. If you will not join me, my son, then you must die. I hope that martyrdom suits you well."

You will not be a martyr. Ancestor said.

Krag smiled, and he fired a bolt of green lightning from Ancestor at Sebboryth. Sebboryth breathed a bolt of red lightning from his maw. The two bolts clashed and pushed against each other. Krag began to sweat from the mental exertion of maintaining the magic.

Keep going. Ancestor said. You have almost won. Break him; you are a son of the dragon no more.

If I had known this would happen, I would have never drank his blood. Krag replied.

It is too late for regret now. What's done is done.

Krag closed his eyes and screamed. His bolt of lightning intensified, and it slowly began driving back Sebboryth's. Then, an explosion rocked the cavern; both bolts of lightning were gone.

"I do not need the power you offer!" Krag shouted.

"You will pay for your insolence, mortal," Sebboryth growled, "I gifted you with my blood so that you could be strong, and I can still take my gift back."

Sebboryth stomped toward Krag, swiping a claw at the dwarf. Krag ducked under the claw before using a blast of lightning to propel himself onto Sebboryth's back.

"You gifted me with power, yes," Krag said, "but the druids gifted me with purpose. Of the two, purpose is by far the greater force."

Sebboryth reared up, and Krag dropped to all fours. He began crawling up the dragon's neck. The dragon reared again, throwing Krag down to the ground.

"You have made a grave mistake, Krag," Sebboryth snarled. The dragon sliced Krag’s foreleg with one of his thick, sword-sized claws. As blood flowed from the wound, Sebboryth called, "That which is mine, return to me!"

Krag's entire body went rigid as excruciating pain blossomed from within his core. He let out a scream as he felt something being ripped out from within, not quite tangible but painful all the same. A trail of blood that looked like Sebboryth's burst from Krag's chest and flowed into the dragon. The whole ordeal lasted only a few short moments, though each one felt like an eternity. By the end of it, Krag was left feeling a void within himself, and Sebboryth wore a toothy grin that took up the majority of his face.

"Where is your purpose now, Krag?" the dragon hissed.

"It remains with me," Krag shot back as he found himself able to move again. He forced out the words in between heaves. "I do not care that you have taken your gift back; I have no desire to share blood with one who has given himself over to the dark powers. I am a son of the dragon no more!" Still, he could not ignore the fact that a part of his soul now felt empty. Sebboryth's blood had flowed alongside his own in a familiar rhythm for decades, always lending him strength. To say that it was difficult to acknowledge its absence was an understatement.

Sebboryth took a deep breath and exhaled a torrent of seething fire upon Krag. The dwarf called upon his druidic power, shrouding himself in a cocoon of crackling green lightning.

The flames struck the lightning with vicious force, tearing into it. Krag sweated as the heat of the flames came through, knowing that they would not stop until he was nothing more than ashes. He poured more mental energy into the lightning and allowed himself a brief smile as he watched it surge a little further forward and glow just a little brighter. He had broken Sebboryth once with his lightning. He could do it again.

As the flames continued to rage forward and the lightning began to waver, Krag reflexively reached for the power of the dragon only to realize fully and truly that it was gone.

Gone.

The word echoed through Krag's head, and his lightning shield continued to falter. A malevolent glare flashed across Sebboryth's eyes.

Krag tried to pour more energy into the lightning, tried to keep it going for just a few more moments while he came up with a plan, but he had nothing. He was having trouble just keeping himself standing. His whole body screamed at him to collapse.

And for a moment, he considered giving in.

We are with you. Ancestor said, the voices of Bromzik and Drerra being the most prominent.

Krag's lightning flared up with new life, starting to drive back Sebboryth's flames. The dwarf let out a ragged roar as he plunged into his deepest reserves, digging up anything he possibly could to keep feeding the magic.

Suddenly, lightning burst forth from Ancestor and the emeralds upon Krag’s robes, obliterating the flames and surging forward until it overtook Sebboryth and tore a roar of pain out of the dragon. He crashed to the ground.

Krag took a bold step forward.

"Who tempted you into this foulness?" he demanded.

"Why do you care?" Sebboryth seethed, "It's not like you want to take part in what I have received."

"Tell me!"

Krag began channeling lightning into Sebboryth. The dragon roared in pain as his neck flailed about.

"Tell me now," Krag said coldly as he intensified the lightning.

Sebboryth lunged and slammed his head into the ground, hoping to smash Krag, but the dwarf jumped onto the dragon's back and began electrocuting him again.

"Tell me," Krag said once more.

"Yeddagon!" Sebboryth screamed, "Yeddagon and Zetyl!"

"Very good.” Krag smiled grimly. “Was that so hard?"

Sebboryth roared and continued flailing. Krag crawled up to Sebboryth's head and slammed Ancestor into his skull, leaping off with the aid of lightning as the dragon fell limp.

A maelstrom of emotions flooded into Krag as he watched the last remnants of light fade from the Sebboryth's eyes. He hated to have killed the dragon, especially in such a vicious fashion. No matter what had happened, Sebboryth had always been there to help. He had served as a protector of the realms of dwarves and men for centuries, always working in tandem with the druids. Krag had come to see him as a paragon of good, an example of what he, and all druids, should strive to be.

And he had killed that.

Not just killed the dragon, but tortured him as well.

It had to be done. That's what he told himself as his body began to tremble. It had to be done. The druids had taught him that all things change; that is the nature of life, and it is not the fate of everything to stay alive. Life and death worked in tandem. It was that simple, right?

Krag took one last look at Sebboryth's corpse. Behind it, he caught a glimpse of a small, oval-like thing on the cavern's back wall. He turned around and walked over to it, going around Sebboryth's corpse. The previously unseen item soon came into full view, revealing itself as a black mirror with burnt gold trim. The odor of brimstone came off it in thick, heavy waves.

Darkness swirled within the mirror's depths, soon forming into two faces, one male and one female. Both appeared cold and fiendish, their skin like ice and their eyes so dark that the pupils could barely be seen. A pair of small, curved horns crowned each of their foreheads. Their angular features were shaped into strangely friendly expressions.

"Yeddagon and Zetyl," Krag snarled.

The male face nodded. "Yes," he said, "I am Yeddagon, and she is Zetyl. I know what you want to do Krag. You want to destroy us."

"Your devils killed my parents."

Yeddagon nodded. "Yes, they did, and for that, I apologize. But, I ask that you wait for a few moments and hear us out. We can offer you great power, Krag, greater than anything you could have ever received from Sebboryth. We can give you everything you ever wanted. I can see the repressed desires within your heart, and there are many of them. In fact, we could even bring back your parents…" His tone remained cool and collected. Zetyl's expression was unchanging.

"You lie! I will not listen to you any further. Be gone, foul creatures!"

Krag pointed Ancestor at the mirror and unleashed a wave of green lightning upon it. A cacophony of piercing, otherworldly shrieks and howls came forth from it as it cracked, eventually shattering completely. Krag's mouth twisted into a grim smile as he watched the pieces fall to the ground, shattering into even smaller ones once they had hit it. Only when the last piece broke did he finally walk away.

He stopped at the entrance of the cave and looked up. As his gaze met the sun's glare, a feeling of uncertainty and tension began to settle within him. What would Aodhan say when he found out what had transpired here? Krag wasn’t sure that he should return to Aodhan at all.

It was then that the dwarf looked around and realized that, for one of the few times in his life, he didn't know where to go next.

The End

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