With some hurdles, my eyes begin to open. The Materium’s darkness greets me with its unmistakable silence and loneliness. This view means naught, after the glory I witnessed and what tended to me. Nothing I glimpse through all of my remaining existence will surpass the Tribunal’s presence. The beauty they display, the overwhelming sentiment of love and mercy, the might one word carries when it leaves their mouths. An eternity of living as an outcast has been disrupted by one discussion with the creators of everything. An existence of anguish and abandonment has been shaken by mere words spoken by the ones that made me. If this entrapment I endure could allow me to raise my limbs in joy, I could not stop from it. I wouldn’t desire to. Love exists. And I… have felt it for the first time in eternity. A concept I often thought of as a myth.

  Their words echo through my essence, the sheer power they possess shuddering my being by only recalling them speaking. In their infinite wisdom, the Tribunal has always watched over us. Even if their physical presence has discarded both Aslakahm and Zhozpzsn. Questions still disturb me. This entire conflict still haunts me. My early existence is still a matter I battle against. But after what I experienced, their influence over me has diminished. What could I consider important after seeing the Tribunal in their utmost glory? How could issues and concerns be mightier than they? I wish I was given further access to their presence. I wish I received more answers to some of my greatest doubts. Yet what I’ve been gifted is finally casting away the shadows that have consumed me since birth. I… matter. To the Materium. To my kin. To my makers. Errors don’t exist. I carry importance. The Tribunal has put to rest my endless despair.

  Not even the fact that I wander through the Materium, alone and chained by my own body, is enough of a concern. Tiny stars glint in the distance, as if sharing in my joy. Has the Tribunal done something to them? There seems to be a stronger will within their glow. As if this curse no longer has the same impact on their cycles. I doubt that is the case. The Materium may be lonely and somber, but the light sprinkled about reminds me of a time long gone. Of an existence that wasn’t being consumed. Of both sides of creation, despite their growing disdain of each other, laboring side by side. If demise shall grip me now, I would consider it the greatest of gifts. I long to meet those that made me once again. I ought to be caught and brought to my makers so I can be taught more about this glorious sentiment of love.

  The silence encompassing me is broken. A pair of wings flutter with vigor, purposefully approaching. I glimpse white lines shifting in the corners of my eyes. Lord Rahmanegol? A pair of claws grip me, spinning me to regard the dragon.

  “Before I proceed with this,” Lord Rahmanegol says, “I must inform you that I only do it because I need you. Your essence is invaluable. The Jila rejects us all, but not you.” He leans closer. “Bear that in your mind.”

  What is the lord intending to do? I am already subdued by the strengths within me. As much as I don’t want to admit, I am at his mercy. My mouth and my limbs are completely shut.

  Lord Rahmanegol reveals one of his claws. An egg rests within his essence, embedded into his limb. “Alghamior warned me. You keep believing this lie you tell yourself, Khonameol, that no other Duality has existed beside you. And you must learn to renounce your boldness, when there is no need for it.”

  The egg begins to ascend through his essence. Three layers of shells enclose it, their sharp edges carrying a sparkle. Its gold and white coloring reminds me of the Tribunal, yet nowhere near as imposing or bright. At the top, a bulging dark sac overlaps the egg, thousands of small knotted lines crossing it without a clear path. I’ve never witnessed an egg before, but I’ve been informed about the way they function. The dragon within the one before me is close to birth. My eyes snap toward Lord Rahmanegol. Why did he tear the egg apart from the Field? Such a thing is one of the gravest of sins.

  “Dualities have traversed the Materium before,” Lord Rahmanegol continues, focusing on liberating the egg from his essence. “Many actually. A subject of great interest to me, a matter of dread for Alghamior. The sheer chaos you possess is unlike what my Lightstealers can bring. Alghamior suspected you have the ability to also create, but he was unable to test that. The experiment we surveyed had other plans.”

  The egg rests now in his claw. He shoves it toward my snout. “Ingest it. The shackles will be undone. If you decide to use your chaos on me again, I will personally ensure your existence is snatched away.”

  I hesitate. Consuming another dragon? This is the solution to my entrapment? I don’t desire to steal another’s chance of eternity so I can have my own essence unshackled. Yet this disease is not showing signs of stopping. Even if the dragon is born, the Materium still fades. No. The Tribunal said that balance is still possible. Survival can still occur. Existence isn’t yet subject to a terrible fate.

  Lord Rahmanegol sighs. “This isn’t a request, Khonameol. It’s an obligation. We still haven’t uncovered the Tribunal. This curse is showing signs of receding, but the creators need to be brought back.” He grips my snout, forcing it open. “Forgive me, but I won’t waste my existence on this. The mere fact that I stole another’s attempt at life makes me want to despise you.”

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  Lord Rahmanegol smashes the egg inside my barely opened snout and I swallow. At first, nothing occurs. Then my body contorts. A light emerges from within me, a mixture of red and black fighting through my essence. My eyes shut forcibly, and I sense strength filling me like stars charging a black hole. A tremor seizes me. With a swooping motion, my limbs break the golden chains, an explosion of Jila’s chaotic energy emanating from my body. Lord Rahmanegol regards me with a frown, claws prepared to strike at any moment. Power fuels me once more, the Jila eager to be unleashed. That won’t be the case any longer. I now know what lives within me, and won’t waste such gifts from the great Tribunal on unnecessary clashes.

  “Calm your claws, lord,” I say, shifting my limbs, regaining my sense of them. “I have been granted much understanding after our duel. This chaos must be controlled at all costs. For the benefit of the Materium. And for my own.”

  Lord Rahmanegol tilts his head. “Consider me impressed with your response. The first experiment chose to return to violence when freed. You are more intriguing than I would’ve believed, Khonameol.”

  “All of my existence I was led to believe that I am an error.”

  “Your kind is an Error.”

  “No,” I reply flatly. “You are gravely mistaken.”

  Lord Rahmanegol crinkles his snout. “Beware of your wor-”

  “I have learned the truth, lord. I’ve spoken to the source of life itself. I had an audience with our great Tribunal.”

  His eyes widen and his body trembles. “What?!”

  A smile invades my snout. Now I can finally display the gift the Tribunal left me. Joy. “Dualities are not errors. Nothing the Tribunal creates is considered a mistake.” I point toward him. “Only you do that.”

  “How could the Tribunal acknowledge you? I long for their presence and here you claim to have felt it!”

  “I can’t explain to you what happened. All I know is that I saw their dwelling. All three of them have assured me that I am… loved. Dualities were always part of creation. For we are balance.”

  “Balance? You disrupt everything you come across. Chaos flows through your essence and yearns to be released. What balance dwells in you?!”

  I twist, gazing upon the spreading Materium. “I have a purpose. In creation. In this conflict. I have been placed exactly where I should’ve. My birth is a normality, not an exception.”

  Lord Rahmanegol grunts. “Has your imprisonment led you to hallucinations? Explain to me what the Tribunal wanted with you.”

  “This conflict has been allowed by them. This disease has been granted a path.”

  “To what purpose, Khonameol?!” he asks impatiently.

  “For… connection.” I regard him, my mind recalling the last words spoken by the Tribunal. “They said ‘Connection is the source of healing. Let it flourish’”.

  Lord Rahmanegol withdraws, eyes shifting. A storm of emotions is disrupting his face. “Connection,” he whispers. “My Company claims to have witnessed the Starmakers recuperating. Even the stars appear to be dwelling longer. I wondered why Alghamior and his councillors displayed such vigor so easily.”

  “Where is King Alghamior?” I ask, even if the answer has been bothering me since I was cast away from Aslakahm. Somehow I know he has faded.

  Lord Rahmanegol shuts his eyes. “Claimed by the Materium. I had no other choice. Unfortunately.”

  I exhale. Images of the mighty king invade my mind, causing me a grimace. I sought to aid him the best I could. I tried to please him and follow his commands. All while he lied to me and treated me worse than a meteorite treats a planet across its cosmic path. Should I renounce the barely earned joy for the sorrow his demise can give?

  Lord Rahmanegol shoves himself closer. “Will our parents return?” he asks, his eyes widening with hope. An image I never believed possible from the lord of Lightstealers.

  I shake my head. “That is not a response I received. They await balance to seek them. They watch us from across the chasm that fills balance.”

  “You?”

  “I don’t know. Their words were not clear.”

  He nods. “Such is the Tribunal. Speaking in a manner not even Alghamior could untangle. Perhaps I was correct in rescuing you. If the Tribunal truly told you those things, then you are needed. Maybe the Jila holds more information for us.”

  “I was always needed. You were the ones that led me to believe a hideous lie.”

  A cold stare settles in the lord’s four eyes. Then he swirls, soaring away. “We return to Aslakahm. I may have an idea as to what the actual cure to this curse is.”

  An idea that was planted in me by the Tribunal. The lord may claim to know the solution, but he wasn’t the one that was instructed to uncover it. Even if he believes it.

  Hesitating, I extend my wings and follow him. If I am indeed balance, then I must act accordingly. Salvation, granted by our great creators, shall arrive. With my help.