But something calls me now in this strange fey midnight. I can’t seem to shake my terrible dream of Lithava; even as I feel again how unending all my drakes’ and my power was when we formed our truly balanced Ouroboros for the first time, blazing like a firestorm through the ancient skies.
As I snuggle close to Bjorn with Baldur on the other side of him, our hands touch on Bjorn’s chest. As Mikkel’s lips press into my breast, Ström breathing gently, draped between my thighs, I feel that immense joining of our powers still thrum through all of us.
It lights me up from the inside now—as some incredible amalgamation of all our magic moves through us. I feel it still sending searing waves of bright and dark fire-magic blistering through me, even though nothing manifests now in the air.
As I shiver in Bjorn’s arms, however, feeling that massive power still rushing through us all, Mikkel feels it. With a sexy growl in his sleep, he kisses my breast, lipping my nipple into his mouth and sucking it.
Mikkel pushes me against Bjorn with his face now as he sucks and licks, and rolls my nipple around in his mouth like I’m the perfect candy. I’m moving more, trying not to cry out from all that power and energy roiling around inside me as he does it.
Pushing me to go wild yet again—and just fuck and fuck with my drakes.
I need to catch my breath, however, after all that power and passion stormed through us—not to mention processing my dreams. As my hands finally push Mikkel away, he goes, still asleep, but with the sexiest dark and stormy growl ever.
As my inner drake and drakaina roil inside me now, hot but also in a strangely dark place, I lift up, then gently untangle myself from Bjorn and the rest of my drakes. Their energy feels far better, but I know they still need to sleep; we’re still in a recovery space, and need to generate it a little longer for us all to truly power back up and face whatever we’ll do next.
Hope fills me now, however, for the first time in weeks, as I pausebeside the bed, watching my drakes. Because I feel how they’ve come to accord now; at last, they all know they don’t have to fight over me, and that no matter which way we do it, we’ll always end up here.
Creating this towering firestorm of magic between us—incredible.
Every sensation, every touch our bond offers is shared now, thanks to what we’ve accomplished. It’s a potent combination; even more so, because we’ve banished the Black Dragon’s curses from Baldur as we filled up our magics.
I move to his side of the bed now, inspecting him. There are no more curses upon Baldur’s skin as he sleeps, or anywhere in his flesh. Sparkling and clean, his veins pump a beautiful dark blue blood as he rests, restored, his ornate silver, white, and blue runic tattooing shining upon his chest.
As he smiles in peace, Baldur pulls back a little from Bjorn to reach down and rub one wrist in his sleep. He doesn’t wake, though, or leave their cozy cuddle.
Something I feel called to step away from now, as my dreams pull at me.
As I take in the quiet reaches of our room, I see how it’s been wrecked by our firestorm of lovemaking, which razed its vaults. For the first time since our group sex, I see how nearly everything not made ofsilberskraeor stone lays in smoking ruins around us now, decimated.
The massive canopy of the bed is shattered from Baldur’s shift, thrust aside into a pile of beams beside the bed. Very little survived our lovemaking when our amalgamated auric fire razed the hall at the height of its combustion; thesilberskraefurniture is intact, as are the trees, becausesilberskraeis hardy stuff. Every chair and chaise is missing its padding under the now-empty vaults, however, the drapes that once hung from the canopy gone.
I see that our incredible firestorm left no scorch-marks or even ash anywhere, however. Pristine, the room is clean now, with not a trace of mildew or moss, all the vines and mushrooms gone.
The room seems to almost sparkle, as if the alabaster stones and thebright sky-blue blocks have been polished clean by our intense razing of magic. As I note it, I suddenly lift my eyebrows to see that glimmers of gold and silver fire seem to run through all the detailed runes inset into the stone walls between the carvings.
An ancient story upon these walls coming alive around us—everywhere.
As all that beautiful script whispers around me in the fire-cleansed room, stunning, I wonder what it means. Neither Mikkel, Ström, nor Baldur has been able to make heads or tails of this dialect of our language, however, written on these walls.
Something even more ancient than the Blood and Bone War five thousand years ago, this place is a relic of our kind, lost to time. As I take in that beautiful, flowing magic upon one of the nearest columns, alive now as the fire-runes seem to shift and flow upon it, I marvel at the majesty of what our most ancient Ancestors wrought.
Some deep instinct fills me then, that this underground city beneath the ruined city above was not meant to be discovered by just anyone. Like a time capsule, it was buried and intended to be forgotten until later generations who were strong enough found it and could make use of it again.
As Aesa’s Truthstone flickers to life upon my chest, I suddenly know that the entire history of a people we no longer understand is written in this place. I wonder then if it has anything to do with our current predicament; as that fey movement of the runes pulls at me, my dreams call me, dark and insistent.
I have the thought then that this place might have answers for us about the Black Dragon. After all, it was last used by Aesa and her True Knights as they opposed her own sister Hedda, who was trying to bring Bloodwalkers into ascension over all else.
Aesa agrees with me, as the silver stone in my chest seethes like wildfire now, roiling with gold, white, and bright crimson runes. But Aesa’sprotection inside me is almost gone; I can’t hear her speak to me anymore as her Truthstone flares. I only get the sense that I need to go exploring.
And see what secrets this underground city holds.
I wrap up in a new robe of floor-length crimson silk now, embroidered with gold, from the storage areas behind their magically protected vaults, then head out. I don’t need a torch tonight; as I move from my room to the hall, the whispering silver-gold fire follows me, illuminating runes next to me and just ahead.
As those subtly flaring runes lead me on now, somewhere I don’t know but feel is right, I pad over the luminescent mosses of the floor barefoot, my footsteps silent in the ancient darkness.
A deep hardiness fills me since our group sex, and I’m not cold. Though I feel like I meander through the ancient, quiet vaults in the luminous darkness, I also somehow feel pulled towards something as those quietly flaring runes lead me on.
Aesa’s Truthstone hums at a low murmur upon my chest, as I take this vaulted thoroughfare and cross through that towering hall in the slumbering midnight, feeling called towards I-know-not-what.
