The library appeared to go on for rows upon rows. Two floors with a massive staircase in the center. Books ranging from physiology to the arcane overwhelmed Kyrik; it was almost impossible to find what he was looking for without reexamining the shelves thrice. His mocha wings almost screamed in exhaustion, having been used far too much in one day. Flight was no problem, hovering was.

In his claw, a silvery light illuminated the darkness. It didn’t do much in some areas, where it the shadows encroached upon him. Given where he was, this didn’t surprise him. In the darkness, he could hear clawsteps. They did not approach; much like he, they minded their own business. Had he been anyone else, it may have been a different story.

Kyrik’s claw rubbed his peridot eyes in exhaustion. It felt like he was here for such a long time. The small, cream-scaled dragon moved along the polished wooden floor, brown colored talons clicking. Where was it? The owner of this place was bound to have something. She was quite the collector, after all!

“Sneaking into my castle again, Kyrik?” A low growl broke the silence above Kyrik.

The sudden break in focus made him jump, bounding away slightly with his bladed tail raised defensively. Upon seeing who had spoken, his expression softened. Not that anyone could tell past his skull mask.

She was as beautiful as she was terrifying, with scales like the whitest snow and horns the darkest of nights. Pearly white fangs long as daggers glistened in the faded lights. Heavy crimson wings draped around her like a cloak. Neck and horns were ordained with the finest of jewelry, while a steely black tiara that resembled gothic clock arms rested upon her head.

“The door was open,” Kyrik’s eyes darted back and forth.

Her glowing, crimson eyes narrowed as a taut smile crossed her gaunt muzzle. A long time ago, she used to be a dragon like himself. Now, sharp flesh-like spikes covered a good portion of her body. Ear frills elongated and pointed. A closer look at her body revealed that while it was animated, whatever life it once held had long been extinguished.

Queen Azulia – or, as she was also called, the Queen of the Damned - was someone that demanded respect. And Kyrik had just done the opposite by walking into her home without an invitation. For the third time.

This month.

“You are lucky I find you endearing.” Azulia’s softer tone still sent shivers down his spine. “What is the occasion this time?”

“I need…answers,” Kyrik shifted before he nodded quietly.

“Is it about what happened a few months ago?” Her gaze flickered to the necklace around his neck. A silvery sickle rested gently against the base of his neck, the ‘blade’ laced with runes.

“You need not shy away, you know.” Azulia walked alongside him. The way she strode was akin to a graceful swan; head held high and filled with confidence. Kyrik’s lowered skulk made her appear three times his size. “How many, again?”

“Ten-thousand,” Kyrik looked up at her, “That’s how many souls I had to take that day, not including hers.”

There was something in the way her eyes ran across him. She was searching, but for what, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t the first time she had done this, either. When he asked in the past, she never answered.

“Have you considered Ephiral’s influence?” She asked. “He had such a way of infecting little objects like what she found.”

“I did, but she mentioned stopping him.” Kyrik refuted. “I don’t know. I’m so lost.”

“My dear, you are exhausted.” She shushed him. “You need to rest; if you are to find your answers, you will not be able to process them.”

“I’m fine.” Kyrik waved his wing in protest.

“I insist.” Her tone was final, like an instructor at Falmari. “It is nearly dinner; won’t you stay the night?”

Angering the Queen of the Damned was not something Kyrik desired. He had been here many times in the past, never staying longer than a few hours at a time. Queen Azulia had not set out to harm him then, surely she would not strike now. He was at her mercy more times than not, and despite being powerful in his own right, he currently paled against her.

“Alright.” He accepted the invitation nervously.

Kyrik followed her down the long, winding halls of her castle. The architecture confused him at times; some parts were familiar from the last time he was here while others were quite different. Or in another location altogether. For example, a portrait of an unknown creature used to hang over a doorway. Now, it was on the wall three rooms away. Somehow bigger than last time, too.

More sights caught his eye as he stepped over the crimson carpets that begun to line the halls. Vampyrs like Azulia were not the only creatures here; Kyrik was only certain of one other. The ‘damned’ part came from the other types of undead that stalked the halls. Necrolites, freed from their cruel necromantic masters, bowed in respect. Ghosts and ghouls floated aimlessly through the halls, fading and reappearing as if venturing to another world.

The necklace Kyrik wore began to shimmer when he drew close and he had to grip its scythe-like ornament to get it to stop. The less who knew what he really was, the better. If only he remembered to bring a satchel!

In a strange way, Kyrik felt at home here. No one here was truly mortal, even if they could walk among them. Each was a creature of nightmare or myth, something that society would hunt and burn. Perhaps one day they could reintegrate in some way, but after what happened six years ago, that didn’t seem likely anytime soon.
Others were damned in another way. A dragon went by Kyrik, front legs melded with the wings; a wyvern. A disability that occurred once in a blue moon, seen as a curse in most locations. He had nothing wrong with him outside the physical, and yet he was all but banished until Azulia took him in.

Instead of the great hall, which Kyrik expected to dine in, Azulia veered off toward her private dorm. Why would they go there? Maybe she would help him with his problem and wanted to focus.

Azulia’s private dining hall was still expansive, with a long table and luxurious seats. It was here that she, and her two champions, no doubt would discuss…politics? Honestly, he had no idea what they talked about. Kyrik warily eyed the room; they were alone.

Except for the one he expected, anyway.

Much like the two of them, he resembled a dragon. What he truly was, Kyrik wasn’t sure. The body on him was withered, almost broken in a way. Pale like a vampyr but with golden eyes instead of crimson; they reminded Kyrik a bit of a fish. Scales were curved instead of triangular like them, too.
Despite looking ready to keel over, he moved with deftness and placed down a plate effortlessly. He knew just the way to slide it so it wouldn’t fall off; something like that should have been impossible for his body.

“How did you know I was here?” Kyrik asked when he examined the meal. Seasoned meat mixed in with some of his favorite fruits and vegetables. Some that he never exposed his interest in to them.

“It is not often my queen ventures out on her own,” The dragon said in a rattling voice. “You are one of three she will meet personally without being summoned. It was not hard to guess.”

“But how did you know what I like to eat, Witherwing?” Kyrik pressed. Witherwing was not the true name of him, but only Azulia knew what it was. Witherwing was something he was happy with for some reason.

“When you have done this as long as I, you know how to look at someone and know exactly what they like.” He grinned, the tips of his glassy fangs showing. Kyrik shivered slightly.

“You get used to that,” Azulia said, taking her seat on the opposite side of the table. She was imposing from where he sat, her wings unfolding and draping over the throne-like structure. Her curved, wicked horns appeared to absorb all the light from this angle.

Her meal was completely carnivorous, covered in juices. A glass filled with blood resided next to her – something that should have bothered Kyrik. But, given his profession and the events he had recently seen, this was a one out of ten on the disturbing scale. Strangely, he detected a trace of arcane coming from the meal. Illusionary magic? But why?

“So,” Azulia spoke after a moment, “I must ask; how did you get in this time?”

Kyrik froze for a moment. “I may have set up a portal somewhere. That only I can pass through.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How interesting. And how did you do that?”

The younger dragon paled under his mask. He didn’t want to expose his little secrets but he also didn’t want to lie to her.

“When I was here for the first time, I set up a few channels. Just in case.”

“Hm,” Azulia chuckled slightly. “I assume your friend could pass through these portals too? What was her name…Kali?”

“I’m not sure if she can alone, but likely.”

“I’m surprised she is not with you.”

Kyrik turned away slightly. “She and I had a…disagreement. We needed space.”

The dull light made her eyes glow for a moment, narrowing before growing soft. “Ah, to be young again. Would you believe that I had days like that at your age? When you become as old as I, you sometimes miss the petty squabbling.”

“How old are you, exactly?” Kyrik questioned.

“It is rude to ask a lady how old they are.” Azulia said, amused.

“You brought it up.” He blinked in confusion. “Surely you must have expected me to ask.”

Witherwing looked at her as if to say ‘he has a point’.

“Truth be told,” Azulia’s gaze drifted down, “I don’t know. It’s irrelevant when you are effectively immortal.”

She was kind of right. If Kyrik had to give her an estimated age, it would be well over two thousand. The little he glimpsed from her past seemed to imply so, anyway.

Still, she was only half right. True, she was immortal in the fact that she never aged. She would see civilizations rise and fall should she play her cards right. Unlike other similar creatures, Azulia had transcended conventional fatalities. Sunlight – the natural bane of her sister species, the Nosferatu– had no effect outside of mild discomfort at most. Silver did little to no damage and no one got close enough to behead.

Hundreds of would-be hunters had attempted to slay her; all were quickly defeated. Not one came close to wounding – let alone killing. Kyrik doubted he would last long against her, which raised the question if the queen could be killed.

“You look lost,” Azulia brought him back to focus. “More than usual, I might add.”

“Sorry, my mind is everywhere.” Kyrik laughed quietly. “Erm…do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“You’ve never asked permission before.”

True. “Where are your champions? They usually never miss a meal with you.” He paused. “Or am I wrong?”

“Do you really wish to share a meal with Lei?” She chuckled. “I wouldn’t put you through that.”

“Fair enough.” Kyrik nodded hastily. “Also, how in the world is your castle moving around like this?! I’ve never seen anything like it. Is it an enchantment, or something else going on? I need to know because-”

She raised a claw to stop him from rambling. “That’s my little secret.”

Kyrik scowled. “You can’t have me stay here and not try to figure it out.”

“Oh, I expected you to. It is why I am blocking off some areas,” A flash of fangs briefly crossed her muzzle. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt. Even though we both know you’ll be fine in the end.”

Yup, she was hiding something. How dare she try and limit his exploration instincts! She wanted him to stay the night, fair enough. Locked off from some areas was pushing it too far! He wanted to see everything here, to see how the society worked in this massive castle. In all the times he was here, he never really saw how it was run.

The thought excited him.

There wasn’t much else to talk about at – not that Kyrik liked to talk while he ate anyway. He slowly became more comfortable around her, able to relax slightly. Plus, whatever spices went into this meal was exquisite! Tailor made just for him! Witherwing must be some sort of psychic.

“When are you are ready, I will show you your quarters master Kyrik.” Witherwing said once Kyrik finished.

“I’m not tired.” Kyrik answered blankly.

“I would be concerned if you were,” He smiled kindly, “but you should know where it is regardless.”

“True…” Kyrik jumped out of his seat, feeling rather energized. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to stretch my legs. I won’t go far I promise.” Both stared at him blankly. “I’m serious! I know better than to wander off on my host…”

Azulia waved him off with a roll of her eyes. Trotting over to the door, Kyrik stepped out, watching as the scenery continued to change. In this area, it seemed to be settling. How curious.

Even if he didn’t get to the bottom of it tonight, he was determined to try on each visit now.

***

“Are you certain you wish to do this now?” Witherwing inquired. “He is barely of age, if I recall.”

“I wanted to wait until a few summers from now,” She gently rolled her glass around, watching the liquid swirl. “However, he is vulnerable now. There may not be another chance.”

“What will you do if it doesn’t work?”

“I have other methods.” She smirked. “Alas, provoking or scaring him too much is not an option for now. You have your task, as I have mine. I suggest you start yours soon.”

“I have already begun,” A brief hint of concern crossed the withered dragon’s face. “You need only to tell me when.”

With that, Witherwing left. Azulia glanced down at her cup again before closing her eyes. She was so very close, and she would not let Kyrik slip through her grasp.

One way or another, her plan would succeed.

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