I was mostly sober by the time I returned to the surface. I’d needed a moment to gather myself. Really, I’d hoped that Instinct was just hiding somewhere, like how I’d barely been able to feel Conscience when she took refuge in Kira, and that she’d grow bored of making us worry. But no matter how we tried, neither Conscience or I could feel the slightest hint of her presence, and we couldn’t wait forever.

  The worry I’d had on the way down, that the invisible, magical wind was slowly wearing our souls away, felt suddenly very real. The agony when Instinct had drawn power from the crystal, was that what it felt like to have a part of your soul torn from your body? Was she just… gone?

  I didn’t know. I hoped not. The idea that she might be gone filled me with a terrible emptiness, a fear and a sense of loss only comparable to the idea of losing Herald or Mak. For all that she could be insulting and borderline insufferable at times, she was part of me. More than anyone, she was always there. We belonged together. Now all I could feel was the emptiness where she should be, and I didn’t know what I’d do without her.

  And that was to say nothing of my concerns about how we’d handle Embers. But I’d better figure that out quickly, I discovered. She was waiting for us outside, and she looked like she was only moments from tearing into the earth and digging her way into the foodcourt and below. As soon as she saw me she surged forward, sniffing and nuzzling and generally making a dragon-sized fuss over me.

  “What happened?” she rumbled. “It was as though you suddenly vanished entirely. Even now I can barely feel you!” She was about as upset as I’d ever seen her, and slowly encircled me with her body. She didn’t go so far as to cocoon me with her wings, but I was well and truly wrapped up. Only where that would normally have made me feel as safe as anything could possibly be, now I wasn’t so sure.

  “There was a crystal,” I told her, trying to match Instinct’s speech but hesitating with every word. I had a terrible paranoia that she’d notice any slipup, no matter how small, and call me out as an impostor. And once she realized that the part of us that was truly her daughter was gone… God, she’d treat Conscience and me like some kind of spiritual parasites, wouldn’t she? If she thought that we were responsible for Instinct vanishing, what would she do? Would she try to destroy us, in the hope that Instinct would come back? Would she simply sear us from existence? Would she fall into an all-consuming rage, destroying anything that might possibly remind her of us? Probably not, but I didn’t know that she wouldn’t. So I couldn’t slip up, but the fear of what might possibly happen was strong enough to reduce me to a pile of nervous anxiety.

  “A crystal?” she asked, and there was nothing in how she spoke except concern.

  What would Instinct tell her, I wondered. She’d be excited. Eager to tell her mother about something interesting she’d found. She’d gush, not thinking too much, just sharing. “A big one!” I continued. “Like a Nest Killer, but as tall as you, and full of power. I think it is the source of everything that happened here. And I tried to draw some power from it. I am not sure what happened after that, but it hurt a lot and now I am brimming with magic!”

  That was okay, right? I asked Conscience. That was a good imitation, right? She’d buy that?

  Yes, Conscience deadpanned. You did a fine job imitating the scared old lady’s dead infant daughter.

  Absolutely not helping! And Instinct can’t be gone — Mother said that she can barely feel me, not that she can’t feel me at all. She’d got to be in here somewhere!

  Conscience must have picked up on some of the desperation with which I said that, because she chose to not be an absolute bitch for a moment and actually help. I meant it, she said reluctantly. You really did a good job of imitating her. Just don’t hesitate too much. I think that would be worse than saying the wrong thing.

  As I spoke with Conscience, Mother had been sniffing me more carefully. She soon lifted her head and told me, “Yes, I can smell it on you. Far more than you usually hold. Too much. One so young as you should not hold so much power. The ability to hold magic, of both the body and soul, matures with time. You have often held more than I thought healthy, and with your thread waxing and waning as it does, especially with how weak it is now… daughter, I fear that it might do terrible harm to you. We must find a safe outlet for the excess!”

  “I feel so good, though!” I protested, and I couldn’t say for sure if that was me pretending to be Instinct, or just me not wanting to let go of the good part of this. Physically I really did feel better than I ever had. The pain in my everything had passed quickly, and I was left with just the sense of incomparable power and general wellness that filled me. I could see my flesh glowing faintly, and sure, that had concerned me when I saw it in my humans, but Mother glowed all the time! So did Behold Her, and she seemed no worse for it, unless terminal dickishness was a symptom of magic poisoning in weaker dragons. As far as I was concerned, the damage was done, and I was not at all inclined to worry.

  “That may be so, but you are young. Too young to know that there are some things that feel wonderful, yet are poison to the body, the mind, or the soul. Trust me on this: I have lived enough years, and raised enough children, to know what a young dragon’s natural limits are. You are far beyond them. And no matter how precocious you are, I cannot believe that it is anything but harmful to you. Was this not what happened to your humans?”

  “Not exactly,” I grumbled. “Besides, Kira was shining, and she is stronger than ever! She can take in a whole Rift, now. I have never seen a human do that before!”

  But she did get rid of all that excess power before you let her charge herself up again, Conscience reminded me unhelpfully. Maybe you should listen to the centuries old magical being?

  But I feel good! I insisted. I didn’t whine. I absolutely didn’t whine.

  We felt pretty fucking good that one time we tried pingers, too, and that worked out bloody fantastic, didn’t it? Conscience snapped.

  That’s low! And anyway, Andrea got us home safe, didn’t she?

  Yeah, but we don’t have Andrea to look after us here, do we? We’ve got Sower of Embers, Reaper of Bloody Flames! And if she tells you that you need to go throw up, drink some water, and go to bed rather than try to fight the second fucking scariest thing we’ve ever seen, then you should listen to her!

  “Are you sure that you are well?” Mother asked with all the gentleness a creature of her dignity could muster. “Did you hear me at all?”

  My attention snapped back to her. “What?” I asked. “No. Did you speak?”

  “I said that your little healer being able to take in more power does not mean that she is not taking any harm. You should watch her closely.”

  “Oh.” Well, that was awful. It had been a couple of days now since she swallowed that Rift, and I hadn’t seen any harmful side-effects, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t burning from the inside or something equally pleasant. “I will do that,” I said, then asked Conscience, Can you check on—?

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  Already on it, she replied, and her presence faded. The normal fading that I’d gotten used to when one of them climbed into one of our humans. She didn’t disappear like Instinct had, and the contrast made me feel the absence of my draconic headmate all the more keenly.

  With Instinct’s status unknown, and Conscience checking on Kira, I had a rare moment of solitude in my own head. That normally only happened when they were both out, Conscience usually riding along with Kira or Mak, and Instinct having taken a liking to Zabra and especially Tammy. Normally I would have enjoyed it. But now, not knowing if Instinct was gone forever, if I’d suddenly lost someone who was such a big part of who I had become… Mercies, I just felt lonely. It was enough to sober me the rest of the way and really look critically at what I’d been thinking and feeling, and what Conscience and Embers had been telling me. And more than anything, it forced me to consider that whatever had happened to Instinct, its lingering effects were unlikely to be healthy, no matter how good they felt.

  “Perhaps you are right,” I mumbled, replying to Mother after a silence that had again been far too long. “I am terribly worried, and at the same time I feel like I could take on Behold Her And Know That All Things Must End and all the rest of them. I… can admit that I am probably not thinking clearly.”

  Mother nuzzled me, relaxing a little. Not entirely — she was still obviously worried — but a little. “That is very mature of you,” she said, relieved rather than patronizing. “Do you have an easy way of disposing of the excess?”

  “I do,” I grumbled. The easiest thing, easier even than just opening and closing the rotunda doors repeatedly, would be to just hide some things in shadow. But I was still keeping some things secret from Mother, so the door, it was. And I was going to do it; I just didn’t owe it to anyone to sound happy about it.

  About that time Conscience returned, the sense of her presence flaring to life as she did. Kira’s still fine, as far as I can tell, she said. Still a bit gingered up if anything. She’s playing peace-maker, if you can believe it. Trying to get everyone to get along.

  I believe it, I said. Last I’d seen of Kira she’d been getting to know Zabra and Tammy, probably to compensate for how no one else wanted anything to do with them. Not even Zabra’s Advancement helped; they all knew that she had it, and compensated by being extra distant and refusing to engage. Unless she caught them off guard, of course. I’d seen all of them smile and chuckle when she’d laughed suddenly at something Tammy said.

  I was glad that Kira was making an effort. Zabra might not deserve it, but like it or not, she was in my heart and my mind, and I wanted her to be happy. And if anyone could bridge the gap between Zabra and her victims, it was Kira. And probably Ardek. He was thoroughly weirded out anytime his former boss came anywhere near him, so it might take some time, but I had no doubt he’d be the first to fall if Kira asked it of him.

  When we returned to the rotunda it was about as I’d expected, except it was Avjilan who’d joined Kira and my two criminals for a game of cards, while Ardek sat across the room with Maglan, Sarina, and Marvan next to my two unconscious sisters. I warned them all what I was going to do, but I still felt like an absolute dipstick as I stood there, closing and then opening the door again and again under Mother’s careful supervision. I had to do it ten bloody times before she declared me drained to her satisfaction.

  Drained was certainly how I felt. The high was barely a memory, its place taken by what felt like the worst adrenaline crash of my life. I was exhausted, stiff, and swung freely between anger, dejection, and something very close to despair. Even knowing what a crash felt like, being fully aware that it was most likely going to pass as my brain chemistry rebalanced, did nothing to help. I felt on the brink of losing everything. My family was never going to wake up, Instinct had been blasted into oblivion, and Mother, no matter how powerful she was, was only one dragon. If the others decided to gang up on her to kill her or force her away, they would. Then they’d divide my island between them, The Winds Weep To See His Grace would dig right into my lair and claim my hoard for himself, and that would be it for me. If I was lucky, Behold Her And Know That All Things Must End would catch me before I went mad. I didn’t want to go mad. Much better to just fade into oblivion after everything had been taken from me.

  And it was all my own damn fault. Sure, Mak had triggered whatever it was that activated the crystal, which had knocked her and our siblings out and drawn in some of the dragons. Instinct had been the one to try and draw power from the crystal. But ultimately, I was the one responsible. I should have stopped them. I wasn’t sure how, but that just showed that I couldn’t be trusted with the kind of authority I’d given myself.

  I was a failure. As a leader, as a dragon, and as a person.

  Those were the kinds of cheerful thoughts that went around and around in my mind as I dragged myself into the rotunda, scattering the poor mules and dumping myself against the back wall, as far from the others as possible. Mother had taken to the sky as soon as she felt secure in the knowledge that I wasn’t burning out my soul or something, and after I’d successfully lied and told her that I felt fine, just a little tired. The humans had probably stopped what they were doing when I walked across the floor between them; at least I couldn’t hear any cards, and any conversation was limited to urgent, hushed whispers. I could barely bring myself to care. As long as they didn’t waste their time on me, I was satisfied. I didn’t deserve their efforts, anyway. They were all my victims in one way or another: either directly, by burning myself into their souls; or indirectly, by Herald doing the same — again, ultimately my fault — or, in Maglan’s case, by me taking the woman he loved from him.

  They wouldn’t even curse me the way I deserved to. Either because they couldn’t, or because they’d been asked not to, or because they were too afraid. No, it was better that they just left me alone and forgot about me.

  I could only hope that the other dragons would spare them.

  I don’t know how long I lay there, drowning in self-pity, but it ended when there were a series of pained whimpers from the other side of the room. I tried to ignore them, but they came again, and again. Kira was whispering, “It’s okay! It’s okay! You’re safe. But you can’t—”

  Her urgent words ended with a surprised squeak, and then Mak’s voice, hoarse and weak but unmistakable, croaked, “Draka!” and I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I turned to look, only to see Ardek helping Kira pick herself up off the floor, and Mak staggering toward me, worry and dogged determination on her sleep-fatigued face. As our eyes met she picked up speed, and before I’d really understood what was happening she’d thrown herself at me, collapsing with her arms around my neck.

  “Don’t. Please don’t,” she rasped out. “Not your fault. Whatever it is. It’ll… it’ll be all right.”

  As she continued whispering a litany of platitudes, I carefully laid down flat on the floor, so she could relax against me properly. I could barely understand what was happening, but I knew one thing: Mak was hurting. She was hurting because I was miserable, but she she had no idea why. She desperately wanted to help, but she had no idea how. So she did the only thing she could: she held me, and told me that it would all be okay and that it wasn’t my fault. That even if it was, I could fix it, and even if I couldn’t, she’d still love me.

  I refused to cry. I wanted to. She’d dragged herself out of a coma for me. I didn’t know if I wanted to cry out of gratitude, or out of shame for hurting her so badly that it had shocked her back into the waking world, but I desperately wanted to. But I couldn’t. Not in front of Zabra and Tammy. Not in front of Maglan and Sarina and Marvan.

  Oh, but I wanted to.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, wrapping myself around Mak until she was entirely cocooned by my scales and wings. “Thank you for coming back to me. You can’t imagine how I’ve missed you.”

  “How long?” she managed to say.

  “Four days. How are you?”

  “Feel like… I went to hell. Clawed my way out.”

  I curled myself a little tighter around her, confident that she of all people could take it. “That might not be far from the truth.”

  “Draka?” Kira’s voice came, soft yet firm, from outside the cocoon. I wanted to ignore her, but then she said, “Mak needs water, and nourishment. I’ve barely gotten anything into her these days. You don’t have to let go, but let me give her some broth and water, at least.”

  I couldn’t deny that. I opened up enough for Kira to carefully give Mak a few sips of water, and then carefully spoon feed her the same thin broth she’d been practically dripping into her and our siblings’ mouths these past days. That gave Mak an opportunity to look around the small place, and when Kira was satisfied Mak asked, “Why is Herald asleep?”

  “Same as you,” I said. “You had too much magic forced into you. I think it almost killed you.”

  “Do you know how to wake her?”

  “No. But now that you’re back, I hope it’s just a matter of time.”

  “Okay. Good,” she sighed, taking my hope for gospel truth. “And Tam? Is he… Where is he? Where’s Val?”

  “They’re safe at Lady’s Rest. It’s a long story.”

  “Okay,” she said. Then, apparently satisfied, she relaxed into me and fell into a perfectly normal, peaceful sleep.

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