[Aethel]
Aelfric's steps halted.
His breath caught in his throat as his sharp eyes caught a flicker of movement—something massive, yet strangely serene. The clearing ahead was bathed in a glow, illuminated by the gentle glow of countless tiny foreign creatures, fluttering on the grass. They hovered in lazy spirals, utterly undisturbed, as if nothing in the world could threaten them.
And there—lying leisurely, as if the very embodiment of contradiction, was the Dragon of the End. A vast, black form, its scales darker than any void, lay curled in repose. Each breath it exhaled sent faint ripples through the air.
And then—its eyes, twin pools of azure, deeper than any ocean, vaster than the infinite sky. They did not glow, they did not flicker, they simply were. Aelfric staggered back instinctively, his body reacting before his mind could comprehend. For the first time in centuries—no, perhaps for the first time in his entire existence—he felt it.
Power beyond power.
The mere presence of this being suffocated the concept of resistance before it could even be conceived. Aelfric knew power. He had felt it in the greatest of Ancestors, in the mightiest of foes, in the devastating forces that shaped and shattered civilizations.
But this?
This was not power, this was an inevitability.
An end.
A force so fundamental that the mere notion of opposing it felt laughable. His fingers twitched. The very instinct to fight had been stripped from him, as though his body itself refused to entertain such suicidal folly.
However the dragon did nothing, it did not stir. It did not acknowledge him, it simply remained there, its massive form relaxed, its colossal wings partially folded at its sides. The small creatures—tiny, delicate things that should have been reduced to nothingness by its mere presence—flitted around it fearlessly, landing upon its scales, resting within the gentle warmth of its form.
It was not what he had expected. Aelfric had imagined something far grander—a cosmic force made flesh, a world-ending monstrosity whose very gaze would unravel reality. Yet here it lay, in the heart of a tranquil clearing, at peace.
And suddenly, the weight of his mission pressed against him. This was not an enemy to be fought, this was an entity to be bargained with, his mind raced. Was this truly a good idea? Could he even hope to stand before this being and demand anything? Would it even humor his presence?
Aelfric clenched his jaw, he could not afford to hesitate. He had come too far, the faces of Calliope and Aviva flashed through his mind, their laughter, their warmth, their fleeting mortality.
No.
He had to do this.
He had to try.
Steeling himself, forcing every muscle in his body to move despite the overwhelming force that screamed at him to bow, Aelfric took a step forward. His foot pressed against the grass, he forced himself forward, every instinct in his being resisting the motion, demanding he turn back—screaming at him that he was walking into something beyond himself.
Yet he did not falter, he stood his ground, his breath slow, controlled. He would not bow.
Not yet.
Not unless it became necessary.
The dragon moved, a slow, languid movement. Its vast wings stretched slightly, shifting against the ground before folding back into its resting position. Its head, a monument of sleek onyx decorated with azure markings, tilted toward him.
And then, it spoke.
"Hmmm…"
The voice was deep, not in the way of normal beings, it was though the earth, sky, and all things in between had chosen to weave sound into words.
"I much prefer this form."
Aelfric tensed. The words were spoken casually—almost lazily.
"Far more convenient. The larger one attracts too much attention. It's much harder to nap in peace."
The absurdity of the statement nearly made Aelfric falter, this was the Dragon of the End. The mightiest of all dragons. The being whose mere existence warped the fate of worlds. The one whose power, even in slumber, caused reality to tremble.
And it was speaking of naps?
Aelfric's mind worked furiously. Was this mockery? A deliberate attempt to throw him off balance? Or…
Was this simply truth?
The small creatures continued to flutter around the dragon, utterly unbothered by the presence of a being who could annihilate them with the faintest flicker of will.
Aelfric's gaze flickered to them.
Why?
"This world is peaceful," the dragon continued, breaking his thoughts. "For now."
Aelfric's gaze snapped back to the beast's eyes, those bottomless wells of azure infinity, impossibly ancient.
"But that will soon change."
The casual nature of the statement sent a chill through Aelfric's bones.
"It is inevitable. Just as all things end, so too does peace. The cycle turns, as it always does."
The words felt heavy, as if they were not just merely spoken, Aelfric clenched his jaw. This was not what he expected. There was no menace in the dragon's voice. No outright threat.
"But I suspect," the dragon murmured, its vast form shifting slightly, "that you did not seek me out for idle conversation on the state of this world. Tell me, Aelfric… what is it you desire?"
Aelfric inhaled sharply, it knew his name of course, it did. A being like this—how could it not? His heart thundered in his chest, yet his face remained still, his breath controlled. But beneath the surface, his mind was a mess.
Those azure eyes knew, It knew why he had come. Yet it waited, it would not act until he asked. Until he proved he had the resolve to say it aloud. Aelfric swallowed, he thought of Calliope's gentle smile, of the warmth in her eyes when she gazed at him. He thought of Aviva's laughter, unburdened by the darkness that clawed at the world's edges.
He could not let that light fade, he stepped forward. The air tightened around him, the world protesting his intrusion into something far beyond his reach.
But he refused to falter.
"I wish," he finally spoke, "to speak with the Bringer of Death." For a moment, silence.
"Hah…" It was not a laugh. Not truly. The Dragon of the End shifted, its onyx scales rippling. The tiny creatures fluttering about its form did not flee—they remained, unbothered, as if they had long since accepted that the thing before them could end them at a whim and simply chose not to.
"I see. So it is immortality you seek." His breath hitched, but he refused to let doubt show on his face. "For your wife. For your child."
Aelfric's hands clenched at his sides. "Yes."
"And for yourself."
The words were not an accusation, they were simply truth. The dragon's gaze did not waver.
"And tell me, Aelfric… have you considered the cost?"
The question struck deep. The dragon's voice was not cruel, not taunting—but patient. Wise. As though it had seen countless men, countless rulers, countless warriors, countless lovers, countless fathers, countless husbands stand where Aelfric now stood—all reaching toward the same impossible desire.
And all failing to understand the cost. Aelfric exhaled slowly. He did not look away. "I have. And I accept it."
The Dragon of the End closed its eyes for a moment, as if listening to something beyond, when they opened again, they burned brighter.
"Have you?"
Aelfric's breath hitched.
"Do you truly believe eternity is something you can bear? Do you truly believe your love, your warmth, your soul… will remain unchanged as the centuries pass? As the millennia stretch on? As the faces of those you cherish become but distant memories in a world that will never cease turning?"
The air shuddered, the creatures around the dragon ceased their fluttering, as if even they could feel the intensity of its words.
"Even if you achieve it—true eternity, true permanence—" The dragon's eyes narrowed, as though peering directly into the marrow of Aelfric's being. "What will you do when they begin to break?"
Aelfric froze.
"What will you do when you see the first crack form in your wife's smile, when her mind begins to wither beneath the weight of time? What will you do when your daughter's laughter grows quieter, when she begins to wonder if this existence—"
The dragon's wings twitched.
"—is nothing more than a curse?"
Aelfric's resolve trembled, for the first time since stepping forward, doubt crept in. He saw it—saw the unbearable possibility painted before him. Calliope, her warmth turned distant, her eyes dull with an exhaustion no rest could cure. Aviva, once so full of light, looking up at him with a quiet, aching question:
"Why are we still here?"
His breath shuddered.
No.
No, that wouldn't happen.
It couldn't.
He would never let it happen. The Dragon of the End simply observed him. Waiting.
"You have resolve," it finally said. "But it is misplaced."
Aelfric's head snapped up.
"You believe eternity is something to be won, something to be grasped—but you fail to see what it truly is."
The dragon stood, slow and fluid, its smaller form still towering over Aelfric, despite its chosen size.
"You are not the first to seek this, Aelfric."
The name felt heavier on its tongue this time.
"You will not be the last."
The wind howled through the trees, yet the dragon's voice remained clear, cutting through all sound.
"You seek to defy Death. To bend it. To control it. But tell me—what will you do when it controls you?"
Aelfric's fingers curled into fists. Because despite the wisdom in those words, despite the way they carved into his very bones…
He still saw their faces.
Calliope and Aviva, their smiles, their laughter, their warmth. And he could not let them fade, no matter the cost. The forest stood still, Aelfric himself did not move.
His body urged him to breathe—to inhale, to exhale, to do anything to remind himself that he was still here. But the moment pressed upon him and it was suffocating.
"There will be consequences." The words were calm, but Aelfric felt them carve into his very soul. "The pursuit of eternity does not come without cost. It never has. It never will." The silence deepened. "Even if I grant you this path—this road that should not be walked—know that the burden will be yours alone to bear."
It did not elaborate.
It did not need to.
Aelfric already understood but he did not care.
His voice did not waver, his answer was immediate.
"I accept."
The dragon's eyes narrowed.
"Even if it means forsaking your kin? Your kind? Your race?"
Aelfric did not flinch.
"They do not matter."
"Your people—" the dragon began.
"Are not my concern," Aelfric cut in. "My daughter is my concern. My wife is my concern. The rest of them?" He exhaled, his tone sharpening. "They are nothing to me."
"Very well then, I can not stop those who seek such ambitions."
A breeze stirred.
Then—
The world changed, The Dragon of the End closed its eyes, for a fleeting moment, all was still.
Then—
It opened them again and the forest trembled. The once-azure glow of its gaze had vanished. In its place—black, absolute, abyssal black. Darkness so deep, so suffocating, it felt like staring into something that had existed before time itself.
The tiny creatures that had so fearlessly fluttered around the dragon before—those that had rested upon its back and nestled against its scales without fear—scattered instantly.
No sound.
No cries.
No hesitation.
They simply fled.
As if some instinct buried in their being had awakened—one that knew what now stood before them was something that should not be gazed upon, something that should not exist.
Aelfric's body tensed, he had felt it with The Dragon of the End.
Fear.
But this was true fear, his breath hitched. His instincts screamed. Run. Leave. Escape. But he did not move, he could not. Because now, before him—
Was Death.
Made manifest.
The Dragon of the End tilted its head, slowly, as if testing the weight of its own existence, the forest had shattered. Not in the way trees would fall or the earth would split—no. This was something else.
It spoke.
Not with the voice of a singular being, but with the voice of many.
"You seek eternity, mortal?" The words slithered through the air, echoing and overlapping.
One voice was deep, like the rumble of thunder, another was soft, like the whisper of a mother cradling her child, another was mocking, cruel and dripping with venom. And yet another was hollow, empty, devoid of any emotion—devoid of life itself.
Aelfric felt the pressure of their words crush against him, he could feel it inside him. Not just in his ears, not just in his mind—but in his very bones.
"I know what it is you seek." The voices shifted, twisting in tone, one moment they were warm, the next chilling, one moment soothing, the next wrathful. "You would take from the hands of The Keepers, defy the course of nature itself. For what? A wife? A daughter? A family?" The laughter came next. It did not come from a singular voice. It came from all of them. A chorus of voices, young and old, male and female, mortal and inhuman—all laughing at him.
It was not simple mockery, it was pity.
Aelfric clenched his fists, his jaw tightening.
"It is admirable."
A voice, kind, almost gentle, like an old friend reminiscing.
"It is foolish."
Another, cold and cruel, cutting through the air.
"It is pathetic."
A child's voice. Innocent.
Aelfric's breath came slowly, he refused to be baited, refused to be provoked. And yet—he could not help but feel it. A weight, pressing down on his very existence, this was not simply a conversation. This was a test, The Bringer of Death—the entity now speaking through the dragon—was judging him.
Measuring him and Aelfric—for the first time in his existence—could not be certain he would pass.
"Do you understand what it is you ask, mortal?" The voices layered, a thousand mouths speaking in unison. "Do you understand what it means to stand against the design of existence? Do you understand what it means to defy me?"
Aelfric exhaled, his heartbeat was steady, his mind was not. He felt small.
And that—
That unnerved him.
But still—
He spoke.
His voice did not waver.
"I understand."
A pause.
The voices shifted.
"Do you?"
The world around him warped, reality distorted, the forest became memories. He saw Calliope, her golden hair caught in the morning sun, her gentle laughter ringing in his ears. He saw Aviva, running to him, her small hands reaching out, eyes filled with innocence—with trust.
Then—
He saw nothing.
No Calliope.
No Aviva.
Just an endless, empty abyss, a future that could be, a future that would be.
Unless—
"You believe you will find happiness in eternity?" The voices crawled against his skin, cloying and suffocating. "You believe you will remain unchanged? No one who walks this path remains who they were." The dragon's eyes—Death's eyes—bored into him. "And you? You will be no exception. Begone while you still can."
Aelfric's hands tightened at his sides, his voice was quiet.
"I do not care what becomes of me."
Silence, the voices—stopped. For the first time since this encounter began, there was true, absolute quiet. The restored forest no longer shifted, reality no longer bent.
"Oh… mortal. How beautifully tragic you are."
The Dragon of the End leaned forward, its gaze now only inches from Aelfric.
"Very well."
The air stilled.
"Then let it begin."