Chapter 24: The Great Game

  Vistaka flexed her wings, lazily working some of the soreness out of them.

  Her recent ascension to Elder had left her far more powerful, but her infrequent flights out to hunt were not the level of activity she was used to. Every time she awoke, the stiffness took longer and longer to work out of her joints and muscles.

  She had been told that this would pass in time, as she grew greater in strength. But a tiny part of her – still young, still impatient – whined inside her, urging the change to hurry up.

  She wasn’t quite ready to return to the deep burrow that she had made her lair upon ascending. The sun was barely past its peak above her mountain, which meant she had at least three more turns of daylight before it would begin to sink into the veil of night. The sky was clear of clouds, and a soothing breeze tickled across her scales. The upper mountain air was cool and crisp, smelling of the faint hint of tangy Pure Mana, untainted by the land below.

  It was, in a word, pleasant.

  She flexed her claws as she drew herself away from the ledge where she had landed. Her belly was full and her body warm… but already, she could feel that faint tickle of emptiness deep inside. The one that warned her she would need to slumber again soon.

  Such was the sacrifice of those who ascended to Elder. So much of their time was spent in torpor and sleep, rather than enjoying the world they had once so freely flown through.

  She knew that many of the other Elders rarely even left their chosen lairs, preferring to have Younglings bring them offerings in return for stories, or wisdom. As much as she disliked that idea now, she knew that in time, she would likely do the same.

  That was just the way of things.

  At least for now, she still remembered a story, one she had heard in her youth. A tale of an Elder roused to action. One who had left their lair for many days, joining in the hunt of a dangerous behemoth from the Scarred Valley.

  She did not know the truth of it.

  Even in her younger years, Vistaka had never flown so far. The Scarred Valley would have been an entire season’s journey for a Youngling. And as an Elder, she would fall into torpor many times attempting to cross that much wilderness. Such a journey would take even longer, now.

  Vistaka turned her eyes upward, catching motion in the sky.

  The clear day let her see far, and her perch high in the mountains gave her a wide view. She could just make out the curve of the world, subtly rising in either direction, though one side was half-obscured by what appeared to be a dense mist.

  It was a good view.

  It was one of the reasons she had chosen this place as her lair when she had grown into her full strength. The clear skies also allowed her to see a few birds in the distance – as well as something more interesting.

  It was at the edge of her discerning vision, but she could tell the shape was not avian.

  She diverted a small trickle of her reserves to strengthen her eyes, sharpening her sight for a few moments with mana-enhanced clarity.

  Two dragons, engaged in an aerial dance.

  She recognized one of them and sighed to herself.

  The intricate series of maneuvers between them was not a courtship game, as she had briefly hoped. It was a simple show of strength – an assertion of territory.

  She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised.

  Esterine had always been a late bloomer. He had only just reached maturity and likely had no interest in finding a mate yet, especially given how reluctant he’d been to leave her nest in the first place.

  Perhaps I spoiled my children too much, Vistaka thought, shaking her head as she dismissed the enhancement and turned her attention back to her upcoming task.

  It is a shame, she mused, but I doubt many of the others would understand that I miss the courtship rituals.

  They had amused her. And she suspected some of the Elders had already guessed the truth.

  It was not uncommon for dragons to identify as female, but even then, most preferred to be the sire, and attempted to dominate the courtship ritual.

  Vistaka had surprised everyone when she ascended to Elder so early – one of the youngest to ever achieve it… despite having lost every courtship game she had played.

  The first had been legitimate, of course. But unlike many of her kind, she found she enjoyed nurturing life within her. The inconvenience of carrying the small clutch was well worth the feeling of accomplishment she gained. And the other three games she had participated in – an astounding number for her kind – she had intentionally allowed her mate to win.

  The emerald-scaled dragon heaved another sigh as she realized what she was doing.

  Drifting, they called it. Becoming lost in the memories of one’s youth. It was quite common, even among the more powerful and ancient Elders.

  Vistaka absently wondered if any of the Younglings actually realized that their elders’ seemingly deep and thoughtful silences were often just quiet trips down memory’s path. It would certainly ruin the mystique for some, wouldn’t it?

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  She swayed her tail and rose to her feet for one last stretch.

  Esterine had apparently been victorious in asserting his territory and was already on his way back – but she felt no need to linger and greet him. She had spoiled the boy, it was true… but speaking once a year was almost the definition of indulgence. Her kind had never been the sort to form large social groups at all, really.

  As much as she loved her children, once they grew enough to fend for themselves, she thought nothing of it if she never saw them again.

  It was, perhaps, a sign of her unusually nurturing personality that more than half of them had returned at least once to see how she fared. No doubt word had spread of her ascension. She might yet receive visitors from one of her previous clutches.

  But if so, she would not see them today.

  She had merely awakened to fill her belly and prepare to return to sleep, for tonight’s rest would be the first of a lengthy torpor.

  It was time for her to join the Great Game.

  The grand hall was alight with color, each hue representing the dream-self of a different Elder. Though calling it a hall was a misnomer, as the dream realm was never fully static. Floating weaves of thought-clouds thread through her sight, with fragments of terrain holding the dream-selves of other Elders, some mere abstract lumps while others were in such detail they seemed too real to be real, somehow.

  Vistaka marveled at how many were gathered tonight… more than half of all Elders, coordinating their sleep to be present for the beginning of a new round. They didn’t need to synchronize, not really. But when a new round of the Great Game began, it was customary to have as many appear as possible.

  This was where Elders differed from the Younglings.

  While young dragons often chafed at the presence of others, especially in adolescence, Elders gradually began to form bonds. Even if they rarely saw one another in person, those connections ran deep. It was only through dreams that they spoke.

  And in truth, many would likely never see one another in person.

  There could never be more than 300 Elder dragons at one time.

  This was another reason why Vistaka’s ascension had surprised so many. Elder dragons died so rarely that the competition to replace one who passed was fierce. Vistaka had been fortunate. Her predecessor had grown weary and moved beyond – seeking one last quest for knowledge before fading.

  “Life-Keeper,” an echoing voice said, drawing her attention.

  She turned toward the speaker and saw a form only vaguely draconic, composed entirely of flowing blue lightning and whirling stormclouds.

  “Thundering Tempest,” she murmured appreciatively. “Greeting me first, twice in a row?” she said, teasing lightly. “One might think you were flirting with me.”

  The older dragon chuckled, spreading wings of roiling cloud. “I am not certain I would want to try that again. You are always full of surprises, Life-Keeper.”

  She dipped her head to him in return but offered no further comment. Even among the more sociable Elders, interactions were often brief and to the point.

  Still, she had gotten the message.

  Thundering Tempest had realized what had happened. He was far older than her… but he had once been her second courtship.

  It had been a fierce battle of wits and aerobatics, and at the end, both had been exhausted. This entire exchange had been his way of saying that he knew she had thrown the fight.

  That was fine.

  Elders were meant to be the ones who broke with tradition… even as they were the ones who passed it down.

  Vistaka took some time to greet other acquaintances – some familiar, some newly introduced by those she’d known in her youth.

  As one of the newest Elders, she had yet to learn who her peers truly were. But that would come with time. Likely only a few more years.

  It was, again, a normal part of the ritual before a new Game began.

  Despite everyone’s polite and distant tones, the dream realm could not help but transmit the subtle undercurrent beneath it all: an undertow of excitement that ran through the entire assembly.

  Eventually, like the others, she settled into a place of her own. Her mental realm took shape around her, forming something familiar and soothing… a space she could rest within, and be at ease during the long trials ahead.

  For it was not merely entertainment that drove them to play the Great Game.

  It was the lack of challenge in the waking world.

  The lack of a clear, straightforward path to growth.

  Only through the Great Game – through expression and creativity, woven with purpose – could Elders truly advance.

  The competition was friendly, yet fierce, and the Younglings only had the faintest inkling that this was what their Elders did while they slumbered.

  Vistaka found it fascinating.

  It was not long before the Game began.

  Vistaka saw the candidate form before her – a muddled, amorphous collection of meaning. Yet somehow, through the dream-realm, the purpose of the candidate became clear to her. Not in words, not even in thought. But in understanding.

  That was the purpose of the Great Game: to take these raw candidates of meaning and provide them with structure. With description.

  And, as always, naming came first.

  Vistaka mused over the candidate and saw that it had already been given a provisional name: Quick Dive.

  Boring. Utilitarian. Clear—but uninspired.

  She peered deeper into the candidate and saw what it truly was: a plummet from great height that called upon the user’s inner mana, converting it into a powerful shield in the final moment before impact. A dangerous move – costly in energy – but devastating if it succeeded.

  She didn’t like Quick Dive. It wasn’t descriptive enough for her. It lacked the reverence a name deserved. Even if the Elders were the only ones to ever see these names… they mattered.

  She felt the collective disdain ripple through the assembly as the name was rejected.

  A new suggestion surfaced—likely from another of the younger Elders.

  Death from Above.

  Enthusiastic. Straightforward. Aesthetic. It met with more approval than Quick Dive had—but dissonance quickly followed.

  Vistaka thought she understood why.

  It was appropriate… but it was also too broad.

  Inspiration struck her.

  She formed her own thought, shaped it, and sent it forth into the shared dreamspace:

  Descending Thunder.

  Normally, suggested names would be considered over the entire run of the Game. But one of the advantages of starting with such a large assembly was that inspired names could gain approval rapidly… if the name resonated.

  Vistaka felt the pattern build, a web of consensus knitting itself around her suggestion. It teetered on the edge of acceptance for a few long, quiet moments.

  And then – something shifted.

  The name seared itself into the candidate.

  Descending Thunder had been accepted.

  It was her first win in the Great Game. And she was pleased it had come with the very first draw of this assembly.

  She had never successfully named a candidate before.

  Now, she felt the surge of power that followed… an internal echo of significance that she knew would be reflected in her physical form.

  It was almost intoxicating.

  And now, she understood why the Elders never complained about falling into slumber whenever they could.

  The Game had begun.

  The Fine Print