The Ballad Of A Semi-Benevolent Dragon

Far did Dawnscale travel in search of the last guardian phoenix. The One Who Remembers had given her a clue, but not even the artificial intelligence had been able to provide her exact location. All it had been able to do was point her in the direction of those who might know more. Years passed, so many years, and Dawnscale saw with her own eyes the full breadth of the universes that had been made by long-dead creator god.

There were worlds so close to paradise that she was tempted to stay. They wielded powers beyond her understanding and looked upon her with a combination of admiration and pity. To them she was both a weathered wayfarer and a lost child in search of safe harbour. They offered her a place amongst them, and when she refused, they did not hold it against her. Instead, they taught her what wisdom and knowledge they could before she moved on.

Other worlds were nightmares, so terrifying that she could hardly stand to look upon them. Sometimes, she helped, lending her strength to the downtrodden. Other times, however, she could do nothing, for the beings that ruled those worlds were filled with such cruelty and malevolence that simply knowing of their existence made her soul ache.

But the worst worlds were desolate wastelands where Broken Gods ruled, and all that remained were ruin, death, and silence that felt older than time.

Yet the majority of the worlds she encountered were neither paradises nor nightmares. Instead, they were filled with... people. Some were stronger. Some were weaker. And most simply tried to live their lives as best they could. Sometimes, she lingered, learning what she could. And sometimes, she left swiftly, some instinct telling her that to linger any longer would not be wise. She met other dragons and other gods, and not all of those meetings went peacefully. More than once she had to flee, and were it not for the growing strength of her magic, those encounters would have left both her body and soul with scars. Yet there were peaceful meetings too, and she learned much from those who were willing to teach or, at the very least, trade some of their knowledge for hers.

Following rumours, superstitions, and ancient legends, she drew ever closer to her destination until, at long last, in the great darkness between the stars, in the vast emptiness between galaxies, she met those who might finally be able to take her to the last guardian phoenix.

She heard them long before she saw them, but not with her ears. No. The ones she awaited sang not with words but with gravity.

Their gravity-song rippled through the darkness, a symphony that called to mind the murmur of planets and the chorus of stars. It rose and fell, echoing the cosmic thunder of quasars and the unyielding adagio of nebulas. Notes rang out, singular and haunting, each carrying the forte of a star going nova.

At last, they came into view: the star-whales.

They were... enormous. The least of them was the size of a planet, and the largest was as great as a star. They swam through the darkness, riding the waves of gravity created by their songs and feeding on the myriad energies of the quantum foam, sustained by the power of possibility. For a moment, she wondered what she would do if they attacked. As powerful as she had become, the weakest of them could still crush her like a bug. Yet she sensed no hostility from them, only curiosity and... familiarity?

She knew the exact moment the largest of the star-whales turned his attention to her. His gravity-song still filled the darkness, but it was joined by dream-song. Words came to her, wrought as much of images and sensations as thoughts and emotions.

"You are a long way from home, dragon. Why are you here?"

"I wish to meet the last guardian phoenix," Downscale replied. "But... do you know me?"

"I do." The star-whale's gravity-song grew gentle as he drew to a stop. The others stopped as well, and their dream-song washed over her like a warm spring breeze. "When I was young, I played in the roots of Mother Tree that extended into the sea. She was young then too, though still much older than I. As I grew, I dreamed, slumbering in the depths and only seldom rising to the surface. That was how we met. You were young then, dragon, and the gods still walked the world."

"You..." Dawnscale stared. "You are an island-whale!"

"I was... once. Now, I am more." The star-whale sang, and his dream-song and gravity-song wove together to bring to life an image from the distant past: the world where both of them had been born before the desolation of the Broken God and the horrors of the other Catastrophes. "Do you know what happens when island-whales dream?"

"No. I asked Dreamsong once, but not even she could tell me."

"I know her too," the star-whale murmured. "It varies from whale to whale, but... when an island-whale dreams long and deep enough, their dreams take them to a place... the birthplace of the stars. It is... beautiful, a place where the dreams and memories of the creator god still linger, a place where the Living Stars still dwell and the fire of the last guardian phoenix still burns. There, if an island-whale proves worthy, a star is born within them. When that happens, they are no longer bound to one world, nor are the seas and Dreaming Lands their home. Instead, all of Creation becomes their home, an endless ocean unlike any other."

Dawnscale was silent. This was far beyond her expectations. "Have you ever thought of going back?" she asked quietly. "With your power..."

"I am not the one to save the world of our birth," the star-whale said. "No. From the moment we leave, to the day we die, we star-whales never return to the worlds of our birth. It is not our way. Besides, the one who saves our world must be one who never abandoned it." The star-whale's song grew mournful. "But I still see our world in our dreams, and I hope very much that what I have seen comes to pass. As for you... the tides of dream brought me here to this very moment."

"Does mean you'll take me to the last guardian phoenix?"

"I will give what aid I can." The star-whale motioned for her to cling onto him. "There are many doors that lead to her, but all of them are guarded. The Star of Vigilance stands watch. His gaze sees all, and his sword of fire and light is not bound by space or time. Yet I am known to him. He will not strike me down. I will take you to him, but I cannot say if he will let you pass."

"Thank you." Dawnscale meant the words with every fibre of her being. "A chance is more than enough."

"It will take some time to reach him," the star-whale said. "And though you are not one of us, you should sing too."

"I cannot manipulate gravity or dreams with the ease you can."

"That is true, but you have a soul, and souls can sing. Let your soul-song echo alongside us. Perhaps... perhaps it will be of use to you."

And so Dawnscale clung to the star-whale as he and his fellows continued their journey. They sang as they travelled, and though it was only haltingly at first, she sang with them. They sang of the things they had seen and the people they had met. She sang of those things too. To her ears, her song was crude compared to theirs, ugly and awkward. Yet the star-whale was not wrong. The more she sang, the better she felt, and the smoother her soul-song grew. It was not sweet in her ears, not yet, but it was no longer bitter either.

They travelled for a long time. Eventually, they reached a vast nebula. At its heart stood a titan of light and fire, larger than even the One Who Remembers. The titan's gaze burned into her very soul, and in his hands, he held a sword of star fire. So sharp was its edge that space and time were split upon it, and she knew, somehow, that a single swing of the blade could shake the foundations of a universe. There was no crown above his head. Instead, there was a Word, and the Word was both his Name and his Truth.

Vigilance.

The Star Who Watches.

The Star Who Guards.

The Star Who Stands Ready.

She remembered then the words of The One Who Remembers. The Living Stars were the mightiest beings native to these universes, save for the long-dead creator god and the guardian phoenixes, of whom only one remained.

The Living Star did not speak. Instead, his thoughts were given form and made into immutable truths that brooked no disobedience.

"You are known to me, Dreamer-of-Star-and-Rain. You were young when last we met."

The star-whale sang a greeting of his own. "I have brought another from the world of my birth. She has journeyed far. She seeks the last guardian phoenix."

"And why should I let her pass?" The question shook reality, and it demanded an answer.

Dawnscale did not speak. There was no need. Instead, the Star of Vigilance saw into her and he knew... everything. Everything she was. Everything she'd experienced. Everything she hoped for. All was laid bare before his gaze.

"You met the One Who Remembers. A fool... but a fool I respect. You are much the same." The Living Star blazed, brighter than a billion quasars. Only his mercy kept her and the star-whales from being utterly annihilated. "I am not the Star of Judgement. That traitor has gone from this place and can never return. But I shall judge you all the same. Prepare yourself. The fire of a Living Star is unlike any other."

Dawnscale beat back her fear. "Do what you must."

She burned.

For an eternity, she burned.

Finally, the flames receded.

"Your soul is scarred, dragon, but not all scars are bad. I will let you pass, but be mindful of your words and deeds. The others may not be so merciful as I, and where you go is hallowed ground." Beside the Living Star, a door appeared and swung open. "Go."

Dawnscale thanked him and went through the door.

Galaxies. That was what Dawnscale saw first.

And then, as her mind adjusted to the sheer impossibility of what she was looking at, she realised what she truly saw.

The galaxies were nothing more than lights gleaming in the eyes of a phoenix.

How... incomprehensibly huge must the phoenix be. Her very mind rebelled at the possibility that anything could be so large. And yet, there she was, a great bird of fire and light and glory. Her feathers were shards of prismatic flame, and the rainbow embers that drifted from her body dwarfed nebulas. The phoenix radiated such majesty and splendour that, for a moment, Dawnscale feared her heart would burst. The One Who Remembers had shown her visions of the guardian phoenixes, but those visions could not possibly compare to actually seeing one in the flesh.

Fire.

Light.

Glory.

The phoenix was all three incarnate, a being so wondrous that trying to describe her with words was futile. Indeed, she was so... ineffable that it was only belatedly that Dawnscale realised she was covered in countless wounds. Blood dripped from those wounds, birthing quasars and super novas, and the phoenix sagged, the boundless radiance with her gaze dimming. Her great head drooped, and her beak and claws fractured. Beside her were four Living Stars, each as mighty as the Star of Vigilance, yet none lifted a hand to help her.

"You have come a long way," the phoenix said. At once, Dawnscale understood that the words were not spoken. Had the phoenix spoken with her own voice, Dawnscale would have died on the spot. Instead, they were woven in a manner that spared her. "What do you wish to speak of?"

"I..." Dawnscale's original questions died in her mouth, and she found herself asking something else. "What... what happened to you? These wounds, who gave them to you? I spoke to The One Who Remembers. I would have thought that you would be healed of the wounds from those ancient battles."

"The One Who Remembers? A kind child. Kind but foolish." The phoenix radiated a combination of unspeakable sorrow and unyielding kindness. "These wounds are not from those battles. They are new, and they will never truly heal."

"I don't understand." If something could wound the phoenix so badly, why hadn't it simply destroyed the universes left by the creator god? After all, there was no one remaining more powerful than her.

"Tell me, having glimpsed those ancient battles, why do you think the great dragon did not linger here?" The phoenix's voice was gentle, yet there was a hidden sharpness to it too.

"He had other battles to fight," Dawnscale replied. "Others who had to be saved."

"You are not wrong, but those are not the main reasons. In truth, had he lingered here, he would have done great damage." The phoenix gave a weary sigh. "My creator made this universe, along with the universes around it. HIs very being was... irrevocably bound to them. They were a part of him, born of his effort and wrought of his will. When he fell... they too were wounded, gravely." The phoenix sighed. "Imagine great sheets of paper. Each of those sheets would represent a universe. When my creator fell, those sheets were not simply torn. It was as if they were drenched in water. Tell me, dragon. What happens when paper gets wet?"

Dawnscale blanched. "It becomes much more fragile."

"Yes. The great dragon's presence is... akin to a mighty weight, such is his power. A dry sheet of paper might be able to support some weight when it is stretched out, but soaking wet paper? It will rip and tear. Had the great dragon remained, the sheer weight of his presence, of his power, would have wrought incredible damage upon these universes, perhaps even exceeding the damage left by the Void-Born and their accursed Champion. That is the main reason the great dragon left - and why the wall of twilight flame he left behind permits no entity above a certain power level. It is to protect these universes while they heal."

"But your injuries..."

"My creator is dead. Had he still lived, these universe would already have healed. I have only a fraction of his power, and I am not nearly as closely connected to them as he was. And there must be a connection. With the damage they have already suffered, if an outsider were to try to fix them, these universes would shatter like glass." The phoenix chuckled softly. "This place... it is hallowed ground. It was where my creator awakened... and where he fell. And it is where my sisters fell and where so many of the Living Stars fell. It is the heart of these universes, and it is only here that my connection to them is deep enough. I am a phoenix. I am fire and light and glory and life ever-lasting. Alone, I do not have the strength to heal these universes, but after realising what I wished to do, the great dragon left me a gift before he departed."

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"What did he give you?" Dawnscale asked.

"He worked a great and terrible magic. He bound my very soul and body to these universes. It takes... truly special circumstances to kill a phoenix, especially once such as I. It took the Void-Born Champion to slay my sisters, and even then, it was not easy. Me? I doubt there is anything left in these universes that can kill me. These wounds are not from battle. Instead, I live eternally, suffer eternally, and die eternally, only to rise eternally... and each time I am reborn, these universes are healed, just a little bit. Each death and rebirth is akin to a single brick in a wall that spans the stars. But... with enough bricks..."

Dawnscale stared at the phoenix in disbelief. The phoenix's wounds had worsened as they spoke, and now she seemed to struggle to stay conscious. "How many times must you die?"

The phoenix chuckled. "I have found that it is better not to think about it. In truth, were it not for the other part of the dragon's gift, I might already have faltered, my mind fractured and my soul broken beyond even my ability to be reborn." The phoenix drooped, twitched, and then lay still. The seemingly limitless light and fire within her vanished, and the glory that emanated from her disappeared. She was dead.

And then she was alive.

Flame exploded outward. Light filled the darkness. And glory sang out once more.

The phoenix was alive, wreathed in fire that surpassed the divine.

"All phoenixes are tied, in some way, to the Flame of Creation, but few of us ever get a chance to see it with our own eyes. The great dragon has done more than see the Flame. He has burned within it. It was in the Flame that he forged his soul anew when he was but a hatchling, and it was the Flame that kindled the power that now burns mightily within him - a soul as great as Creation, lit by the same Flame that birthed Creation. Such is the nature of his power. And part of his gift to me was to show me some of his memories of the Flame. Those memories alone are enough to sustain me, to keep my mind and soul intact until my great task is complete."

"Why do this?" Dawnscale asked. "Why not... why not find somewhere else to live?"

"Because my creator loved these universes and all within them... and I loved my creator. These universe are not perfect. After all, my creator was not perfect, so how could his creations be perfect? Yet there is much to love within them, much to love about those who dwell here, much that is worth saving. Before he fell, my creator ordered me to live. It was his last command. I chose to defy him. I chose to stand here, on this most sacred ground, and fight because I could not bear to lose it and see it despoiled by the Void-Born. To me, death would have been better than that. He ordered me to live, but would I truly be alive if my body was alive but my heart and soul were dead? To see all that he had created, all that my sisters and the Living Stars had died defending, fall into nothingness? That would have killed me more truly than any blow from the Void-Born. My suffering... these universes are vast... and so my suffering may seem endless, but one day, far from now, these universes will be healed, not completely, but enough that help might come from beyond them. The great dragon is not the only benevolent force out there. He and those others will lend their aid when they can, but until then, I must endure."

Dawnscale was silent. The sheer scale of the phoenix's task was mind-boggling. "The Void-Born, do you know that they remain?"

"I do." Wounds began to appear on the phoenix's body, but she bore them without complaint. How many times had this cycle repeated? "Their Champion shattered his own body, and like the fragments of my creator, some shards of him remain. They slumber, hidden, only to awaken when they sense the works of my creator's shards. I have seen into your mind. Your world was one place where a fragment of that wretched creature was hidden."

"My gods fell," Dawnscale said. "Along with most of my kind and so many others. But the Broken God was defeated. Yet... he was not the last. Catastrophes came, disasters that threatened my world."

The phoenix scowled. "A curse of sorts. As my creator wrought the rules of these universes, so too did his death and the Void-Born Champion's power twist those rules. In worlds where shards of the Champion came to rest, there will always be trials and challenges. There will always be darkness waiting until one emerges who has the strength to strip away that taint. Yet... should those who live upon your world triumph... you have seen with your own eyes the worlds where Broken Gods were slain and the Catastrophes were laid low."

"Some were wastelands where nothing lives, but others were glorious."

"Not all worlds are mere rocks spinning through space. Some have souls of their own, and those souls grow mighty from the deeds of those that dwell upon them. The mightier a world's soul, the mightier its inhabitants. It is a virtuous cycle, one of many paths my creator made, so that others might rise high. The Champion of the Void-Born twisted that path, but he could not destroy it."

"How many Catastrophes must we face?" Dawnscale asked.

"It varies from world to world. But there were seven great gods upon your world. A trial for each of them. Seven Catastrophes."

"Seven?"

"Yes. After that, if your world still exists, there should be one with the strength to cleanse the taint from it, to beat back any darkness that dares to emerge from the shadow left by your Broken God." The phoenix's gaze sharpened. "I know your world... and all its reflections. Some have already fallen. Others still struggle. And still others have already triumphed. But your world, the one you left... they have defeated six Catastrophes. Now, only a single one remains."

"They faced another two after I left?" Dawnscale whispered.

"They did, and they won although the cost was not small." The phoenix's eyes narrowed. "But the Seventh Catastrophe is not the same for each... reflection of your world, and what approaches yours is no ordinary Catastrophe."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think happens to the worlds where the Broken God wins?"

"I... I've seen worlds where creatures like the Broken God remain. There is nothing left save them."

"The shards of the Void-Born Champion are much like him. They hate everything. They seek to destroy Creation and all that dwell within it. And when there is nothing left for them to destroy, they go in search of other places to destroy. Those creatures you saw... they only remained because they had not yet gained the strength to obliterate the worlds they emptied of life or perhaps they were waiting for the power to travel from one world to the next."

Those words chilled Dawnscale. "Then..."

"There are verminous tides of Broken Gods that spread from one place to another. Once, the Living Stars would have annihilated them, but now, they are too few, and they are desperately needed elsewhere. This place... and certain other places must be guarded, for if they fall, it will not be worlds that suffer, but universes that end. Moreover, the Living Stars can help stabilise the most badly wounded parts of these universes although they cannot heal them as I can."

"So we are to be left alone?" Dawnscale cried. "To face those abominations?"

"Yes." The phoenix made no effort to spare her feelings. "To cease my work here might undo everything, and to lose those critical places would mean disaster on a cosmic scale. And because if I can succeed and repair these universes enough, then I can call for aid from outside. The Void-Born that remain will be annihilated by those who answer my call - and there will be those who answer." Her gaze grew sad. "I do not like sacrificing so many to save even more, but there is little else I can do. Tell me, dragon. Would you rather a million worlds fall or a universe?"

Dawnscale snarled. "Surely, there is some aid you can give me? If not force of arms, then knowledge or wisdom!"

"Those I can give." The phoenix wove a crystal into being. "You are not the first to seek me out, nor will you be the last. This crystal contains memories from those who triumphed facing Catastrophes like the one that awaits you... and memories from those who failed. Use it as you wish. It also contains other knowledge and wisdom you may find useful."

Dawnscale bowed her head and accepted the crystal. "This... thank you! There are no words that can truly express my gratitude!"

The phoenix smiled faintly. "In a way, you are fortunate."

"Why?"

"It was the great dragon who slew the Void-Born Champion and slaughtered his host. The Champion died with terror gripping his heart. Even now, the shards of him that remain fear dragon fire, for it was a dragon that laid him low so long ago. It is good that there are still dragons in your world."

"How much time do I have?" Dawnscale asked. In truth, she had all but lost track of time in her seemingly endless search for the phoenix.

"You should not delay. But do not neglect those you meet along the way, for you and your world do not face this horror alone.

"I see."

"You should go," the phoenix said. "But before you do, there is something you should see. You have arrived at exactly the right time to see it."

The phoenix's power washed over her, and she was suddenly in the astral plane. The phoenix and the Living Stars were bright there, brighter than almost anything she had seen, beacons of limitless radiance and power. Yet hanging over everything was the same light she'd always seen. It was the light born of echoes of the great dragon... and then that light shifted.

"What is happening?" Dawnscale asked.

"The great dragon stirs. A battle is at hand, a battle such as you could not imagine. The borders of Creation falter. The Void-Born assail it in numbers beyond counting, the mightiest of them so great that even the Champion who slew my creator cannot compare to them. Vast is the battlefield, and many are those who fight upon it. The oldest and greatest of the gods hold the centre, bearing the brunt of this new assault. The great dragon has been given a task - to take those who will follow and strike into the depths of the Void itself to cut off the Void-Born's reinforcements and to lay waste their strongholds. Should he prove successful, the Void-Born will be forced to split their focus or even turn back to deal with him. Now, he sounds the call to arms."

"Who would go with him on such a task?" Dawnscale asked.

"There are many who follow because he is the one who leads, and amongst them, there are many dragons."

A roar shook the very foundations of the astral plane. It was long and loud, and it filled her heart and soul with resolve. It was the great dragon's.

"Though he does not call himself their king, the great dragon is the one they have chosen. When he calls, they answer. When he leads, they follow. To the very depths of the Void and beyond."

Roars answered the great dragon's, more and more and more.

"He has lived a long time," the phoenix said. "And he has made many friends and allies. The dragons who share his love of Creation are many. They call themselves the Guardian Dragon Alliance, and now, for the first time in aeons, they have gathered the fullness of their strength."

And for a moment, Dawnscale saw it, and the sight brought tears to her eyes. It reminded her of the glory of her kind before the wrath of the Broken God descended upon them.

There were dragons of every colour, the least of whom was still so great that words could not describe them. Even the weakest was mightier than the phoenix, and there were ten whose strength dwarfed the power of the phoenix's long-dead creator. Of these ten, the mightiest was the great dragon himself. Universes swirled around him and clung to his scales, and Creation itself sang as he advanced, leading those who wished to follow.

"He is beloved by Creation," the phoenix said. "And so Creation has chosen to armour him. As a giant may bear a kingdom upon its back, the great dragon bears chunks of Creation into battle as both cloak and armour."

"Why show me this?" Dawnscale could not help but fear that this glorious assembly would meet the same fate as the dragons who had faced the Broken God.

"So that you could see that evil and darkness do not always win, that there are those who can stand against them... and prevail."

And then she saw it.

The endless, verminous, unhallowed tides of the Void-Born were driven back, scattered like chaff in the wind. Forward the dragons charged, splendid and true, the pride and glory of her kind driving back the darkness. Once more the great dragon roared - challenge, boast, and rallying cry - and none of the Void-Born dared to stand before him or answer the challenge. Like a spear of light driven into the heart of darkness, the dragons pressed on, and the Void gave way before them.

"Though they cannot come to our aid yet, you must understand that you do not fight alone," the phoenix said. "There are countless others who have never ceased to fight. We are all part of a greater struggle... and we may yet all be part of a greater victory." The phoenix smiled faintly. "Go now, dragon. The future awaits you... if you and those of your world have but the strength to seize it."