The eastern sky held the first hint of pre-dawn light as Tom settled into position on the ridgeline overlooking the Stone Crown. After a day of careful movement through terrain deliberately chosen to confound pursuit, they had reached their observation point with hours to spare before the solstice sunrise. The vantage offered both excellent visibility of the megalithic circle and sufficient distance for a hasty retreat if necessary.
Below, the Stone Crown hummed with activity that had intensified dramatically over the past two days. The purple corruption haze that had surrounded the site now pulsed with increasing frequency, like the heartbeat of some vast entity accelerating in anticipation. Additional crystal formations had been erected around the perimeter, creating a secondary energy circuit that reinforced the monument's natural power.
Most concerning was the gathering of forces clearly visible even in the pre-dawn gloom. Crystal puppets no longer merely patrolled—they stood in concentric formations surrounding the circle, hundreds of them arrayed in perfect geometric patterns that somehow enhanced the energy flow. Behind them stood what appeared to be human cultists in dark robes, their movements suggesting voluntary service rather than crystal control.
And beyond these outer rings waited something far more troubling—a unit of what could only be true demons. Unlike the reluctant infiltrators Tom had encountered in Eastwatch, these were warriors—tall, armored figures with inhuman proportions and weapons that pulsed with malevolent energy.
"They've committed significant resources," Tom observed quietly, his enhanced vision cataloging details that would have been invisible to normal human sight at this distance. "Far more than we observed during our first reconnaissance."
The Whisper Lord is taking no chances with the final working, Skaravosk replied. The arrival of demonic troops suggests high-level concern about potential interference.
"Do you think they've detected our sabotage?" Tom asked, watching as robed figures made final adjustments to the crystalline attachments on the standing stones.
Impossible to determine from this distance, the dragon admitted. But the pattern of activity doesn't suggest urgent remediation—more like scheduled preparation for a planned event.
They watched in silence as the activity below reached a new level of intensity. The Whisper Lord had emerged from a central pavilion, his tall form unmistakable even among the varied beings gathered at the site. He moved with deliberate purpose toward the altar stone, trailing attendants who carried ceremonial objects wrapped in dark cloth.
The time for the Working was clearly approaching. Tom checked the eastern horizon again—perhaps twenty minutes remained before the sun would break above the distant mountains, sending its first rays through the precisely aligned stones to trigger whatever dimensional mechanism the Demon King's forces had prepared.
"If our sabotage holds, what exactly will happen?" Tom asked, mentally reviewing contingencies should their primary plan fail.
Energy disruption at the focal point, Skaravosk explained. When dawn light strikes the altar and reflects to stone nine, the compromised quartz vein will scatter rather than channel the power. Best case, the entire working collapses catastrophically. Worst case, the Working is merely weakened but still proceeds.
"And if it proceeds successfully?"
Then the Demon King gains whatever 'ascension' he seeks. Given the resources committed, we must assume the consequences would be... profound.
Below, the preparations had reached their culmination. The Whisper Lord stood before the altar stone, arms raised as he began an incantation that seemed to distort the very air around him. The crystal puppets had gone completely motionless, their combined energy apparently being channeled into the monument's structure rather than expended in movement.
Tom tensed as the Whisper Lord unwrapped a familiar object—the crimson crystal he had placed on the altar during their previous observation. But this time, the crystal appeared larger, its pulsing glow more intense, as if it had been feeding on energy in preparation for this moment.
"Whatever happens, it happens soon," Tom muttered, shifting position slightly to maintain the best vantage while remaining concealed behind the ridge's rocky outcropping.
As if in response to his words, a discordant note suddenly rang through the air—a sound like crystal striking crystal that seemed to emanate from the stone circle itself. Tom's enhanced vision caught the Whisper Lord's sudden stillness, the hooded head turning sharply toward stone nine.
He's sensed something, Skaravosk warned, tension evident in his mental voice.
The Whisper Lord glided swiftly to the ninth standing stone, skeletal hands emerging from voluminous sleeves to press against its surface. Even at this distance, Tom could see the being's posture change—a stiffening that suggested discovery and alarm.
"He's found it," Tom confirmed grimly.
Below, events accelerated with frightening speed. The Whisper Lord's form seemed to expand, darkness billowing around him as he pressed both hands more firmly against stone nine. Purple energy cascaded from his palms into the monolith, pulsing in patterns that appeared to be actively counteracting the sabotage they had so carefully implemented.
He's attempting to purge the disruptor compound, Skaravosk observed. And given his dimensional manipulation abilities, he may succeed before the critical moment.
Tom ran rapid calculations through his mind. The eastern sky was brightening by the second—perhaps ten minutes remained before direct sunlight would strike the standing stones. Not enough time to approach the circle through conventional means, especially with the heightened security now fully alert to interference.
"Options?" he asked tersely.
Limited and unpleasant, the dragon replied. The Whisper Lord clearly possesses capabilities beyond our initial assessment. Even if we could reach the circle in time, confronting him directly would be... challenging.
"We could retreat," Tom suggested, without any real conviction. "Try to reach the Heroes with what we've learned."
By the time any message could reach them, the Working would be complete, Skaravosk countered. Whatever the Demon King's ascension entails, it would already have occurred.
Below, the Whisper Lord's efforts appeared to be succeeding. The purple energy flowing into stone nine had stabilized the quartz vein, neutralizing their sabotage. Attendants rushed forward, making adjustments to the crystalline attachments to compensate for the detected interference.
"We're out of conventional options," Tom concluded, a cold certainty settling in his chest. "The sabotage has failed."
Yes, Skaravosk agreed simply.
They both knew what that meant—what they had discussed but held in reserve as a final, desperate measure. Full transformation. The manifestation of Skaravosk's true draconic form, with all its power and all its consequences.
"You said it would change us both," Tom said quietly. "That the transformation would be more profound than anything we've attempted."
Yes. The full dragon form requires significantly more of my essence than your human body can channel while maintaining its structure. The transformation is... comprehensive.
"And after? What happens to us?"
Skaravosk's mental presence shifted, as if considering how best to frame his response. Complete manifestation of my true form will severely deplete my energy. After the transformation ends, my consciousness will likely retreat into a regenerative state—essentially dormant while my essence recovers. You will be left... alone for a time. And significantly weakened yourself.
Tom watched as the first glint of sunlight appeared on the eastern horizon. Minutes only remained before the Working would commence. Whatever decision he made needed to be made now.
"How long would you be... dormant?"
Difficult to predict precisely. Days at minimum. Possibly longer.
"Will it stop them? The full transformation?"
A dragon at full manifestation generates a dimensional disruption field naturally—an inherent property of draconic existence that prevented lesser entities from using dimensional manipulations against us in ancient conflicts, Skaravosk explained. At sufficient proximity, this field would destabilize their Working regardless of their preparations.
"But it would also announce your return to the world," Tom noted. "Dragons would no longer be legend but present reality."
A significant consequence, the dragon acknowledged. For both the world and ourselves. We would face challenges neither of us could fully anticipate.
Tom took a deep breath, watching as the Whisper Lord returned to the altar stone, apparently satisfied that the sabotage had been neutralized. The crimson crystal was placed with ceremonial precision at the center of the altar, where it began to pulse in rhythm with the surrounding energies.
For twenty-three years, Tomas Reed had been defined by one thing above all others—survival. Every decision, every action, every instinct had been focused on living to see another day. But something had changed in the weeks since his "death" and rebirth with Skaravosk. Survival alone no longer seemed sufficient purpose.
"We're doing it," he decided, standing from his concealed position. "Full transformation."
You understand what this means? That you will be alone afterward, potentially vulnerable until my consciousness returns?
Tom grinned. "Well, I survived alone for twenty-three years before meeting you. A few days without your constant critique of my tactical decisions might actually be a vacation. Besides, if this Working succeeds, listening to you snore in my head will be the least of our problems."
I see you've chosen humor to mask your concern, Skaravosk observed, his mental voice carrying an unusual warmth. A common human response to stress. And I do not snore... mentally or otherwise.
We must be directly above the stone circle for maximum disruptive effect, the dragon continued, returning to practicalities.
Tom nodded, already moving down the ridgeline toward a protruding outcropping that hung directly over the eastern edge of the Stone Crown. The position would place them between the rising sun and the monument—a poetic alignment that wasn't lost on him. The dragon's shadow would literally fall across the Demon King's Working.
Stealth was no longer a consideration—speed alone mattered now. Tom channeled draconic energy into full movement enhancement, his partially transformed body hurtling down the slope at speeds no human could match. Crystal puppets at the perimeter turned at his approach, but too late to intercept his charge.
He reached the outcropping just as the first direct sunlight broke over the eastern mountains, its rays striking the precisely aligned gap between stones three and four. Below, the Whisper Lord's incantation reached a crescendo, the crimson crystal flaring with intense light as it prepared to channel the solstice energy.
"Now," Tom gasped, spreading his arms wide as he faced the rising sun. "Do it now."
Brace yourself, Skaravosk warned, his mental voice already beginning to change in timbre. This will be... unlike anything you've experienced.
Tom felt Skaravosk's presence expand within their shared mind, growing in both power and focus. The dragon's essence surged forward, not merging with Tom's consciousness but drawing on their connection in a way that was both familiar and profoundly different from their previous transformations.
The physical change began at his core, a rush of energy so intense it bordered on pain. His body felt simultaneously solid and insubstantial, as if being torn apart and reconstructed molecule by molecule. Unlike their partial transformations, where draconic essence enhanced his human form, this was a fundamental reconfiguration—his body serving as the anchoring point for something vastly larger that was being pulled from some dimensional elsewhere.
The sensation defied description—not pain exactly, but a total disruption of physical identity that would have been terrifying if not for Skaravosk's steadying presence guiding the process. Tom felt himself both expanding and dissolving, his awareness stretching to encompass something far greater than his human form could contain.
Hold on, Skaravosk's voice came, stronger and clearer than ever before. The transition point is... challenging.
Around them, reality seemed to bend and flex as the transformation accelerated. Tom's human body ceased to exist in any conventional sense, its substance and energy completely incorporated into the manifesting draconic form. Yet his consciousness remained intact—distinct from Skaravosk's greater awareness but held within it like a passenger in a vehicle of unimaginable power.
The transformation completed with a thunderous release of energy that shook the very ground beneath them. Where Tom Reed had stood moments before now towered Skaravosk in his true form—a crimson dragon of such immense proportions that the Stone Crown beneath appeared like a child's toy arrangement. His massive body blotted out the sun over the entire ritual site, wings spanning hundreds of yards when fully extended, talons large enough to crush houses.
Tom's consciousness stabilized within this vast new existence, maintaining his identity while encompassed by Skaravosk's greater awareness. The sensory experience was overwhelming—vision that could perceive details miles distant, hearing that detected the heartbeats of creatures far below, awareness of energy currents that had been completely invisible to human perception.
We are fully manifested, Skaravosk announced, a note of ancient pride coloring his mental voice. For the first time in millennia, I exist in my true form.
Below, chaos erupted among the Demon King's forces. Crystal puppets collapsed as the disruptive field generated by the dragon's presence severed their controlling connections. Human cultists fled in blind panic. Even the demon troops scattered, their ordered formations dissolving before a power that harkened back to an age when dragons had ruled the skies and all lesser beings had trembled at their passing.
Only the Whisper Lord remained at his position, his form billowing with dark energy as he attempted to shield the Working from the dimensional disruption cascading from above. His skeletal hands spread wide, creating a dome of protective force around the altar and its precious crimson crystal.
He resists, Skaravosk observed. Impressive, but futile.
Tom, experiencing everything from within the draconic awareness, felt Skaravosk gather power—not just physical strength but something more fundamental, a manipulation of reality itself that seemed to come as naturally to dragons as breathing did to humans.
We end this now, the dragon declared.
The massive head tilted downward, jaws opening to reveal teeth the size of castle towers. When Skaravosk exhaled, what emerged was not ordinary flame but something far more devastating—a concentrated stream of crimson energy that distorted the very air through which it passed.
The dragon's breath struck the Whisper Lord's protective dome like a battering ram of pure power. For a moment, the dark energy barrier held—testament to the entity's considerable strength. Then it shattered with a sound that transcended normal hearing—a psychic scream of thwarted purpose that echoed across multiple planes of existence.
The crimson energy continued unimpeded, engulfing the altar stone and its crystal. Purple energies that had been building for days released in chaotic bursts, their carefully guided paths now disintegrating into wild, unpredictable arcs.
The Whisper Lord stood defiant to the last, skeletal hands raised toward the dragon even as reality itself seemed to fold around him. His form stretched and distorted before imploding with a final burst of darkness. Where he had stood, nothing remained—not even ash that might have marked a conventional destruction. The dimensional backlash had simply removed him from this plane of existence.
It is done, Skaravosk announced with satisfaction that quickly gave way to audible strain. The Working has failed. The Demon King's ascension is thwarted... for now.
Tom felt a sudden shift in their shared connection—a weakening that rippled through the draconic consciousness encompassing his own. "Skaravosk? What's happening?"
The energy expenditure was... significant, the dragon replied, his mental voice already beginning to fade. I cannot... maintain this form... much longer.
Great wings that had been holding them stationary above the Stone Crown beat powerfully, carrying them away from the ruined ritual site toward the distant mountains. Each movement seemed to require greater effort from the dragon, whose consciousness was visibly dimming within their shared awareness.
We need... somewhere safe, Skaravosk managed, his flight growing increasingly erratic. I can feel... my awareness... receding.
"Where?" Tom asked urgently, sensing the rapid depletion of draconic energy that had sustained their transformation. "Where should we go?"
North, came the increasingly faint reply. Mountains... cave system... twenty miles... can't maintain much longer...
Tom felt the massive body responding more sluggishly to Skaravosk's commands, altitude dropping as maintaining flight became more difficult. The mountains were visible ahead, but still distant—too distant at their current rate of deterioration.
"Can you make it?" he asked, unsure if his voice even reached the fading draconic consciousness.
No choice, Skaravosk replied, determination momentarily overcoming the encroaching dormancy. One final push.
With what was clearly a supreme effort of will, the dragon summoned a last reserve of energy. Powerful wings beat twice, three times, propelling them toward the nearest mountain peak with desperate speed. As they crossed over the ridge line, Tom caught glimpses of a deep valley beyond, with what appeared to be cave openings visible in the rock face.
There, Skaravosk identified, his mental voice now barely a whisper. Sanctuary.
The dragon's final approach was more controlled crash than landing—massive talons gouging furrows in the valley floor as momentum carried them toward the largest cave entrance. With the last of his strength, Skaravosk managed to fold his wings and duck his head, sliding into the cavernous opening just as his consciousness flickered on the edge of complete dormancy.
I must... rest now, came the dragon's final communication, faint as a dying ember. You will be... on your own... for some time. Be... careful, Tom Reed.
"I will," Tom promised, feeling the draconic presence recede completely, leaving his consciousness suddenly, jarringly isolated within the massive form they had shared.
For a brief, terrifying moment, Tom feared he would be trapped—his human mind lost within an unresponsive draconic body. Then the transformation began to reverse, not in the controlled manner of their previous shifts but in a rush of energy depletion that felt like freefall.
The massive draconic form contracted rapidly, scales and wings and immense limbs dissolving as the sustaining energy that had manifested them dissipated. Tom felt himself simultaneously returning to human form and crashing toward unconsciousness, the strain of the transformation and its sudden reversal overcoming even his enhanced resilience.
His last coherent thought was concern for Skaravosk—the ancient consciousness now completely silent within his mind for the first time since their partnership began. Then darkness claimed him, his human body lying unconscious on the stone floor of a cave that could have comfortably housed a small village.
Hours passed, perhaps longer, before awareness returned. Tom regained consciousness slowly, every muscle and bone in his body protesting movement. The cave around him was dimly lit by sunlight filtering through the entrance, its cavernous dimensions emphasizing his return to human scale.
He sat up cautiously, taking inventory of his condition. His clothing was in tatters, barely maintaining modesty, and his body felt simultaneously strengthened and depleted—as if he had gained muscle mass but lost all energy to use it. Most concerning was the silence in his mind, the complete absence of Skaravosk's presence that had become so familiar.
"Skarry? Skaravosk?" he called aloud, his voice echoing through the empty cavern. No response came, no familiar mental touch.
Recalling the dragon's warning, Tom forced down his concern. This was expected—the necessary recovery period after such an enormous expenditure of energy. Skaravosk wasn't gone, merely dormant, his consciousness retreated into some deep regenerative state beyond Tom's reach.
But the silence was unnerving nonetheless, a physical absence he felt like a missing limb.
With effort, Tom pushed himself to his feet, taking stock of their sanctuary. The cave was far larger than he had initially realized—a vast natural chamber with smaller tunnels branching off in multiple directions. The entrance provided both light and a commanding view of the valley below, where any approach would be visible long before it reached them.
A defensible position, at least. And the scattered bones visible along the cave walls suggested it had once served as a dragon's lair—perhaps Skaravosk's own, in ages past, which would explain his knowledge of its location.
Moving to the entrance, Tom gazed across the wilderness stretching in all directions. No human settlements were visible, no roads or trails that might bring unwanted visitors. For the moment, at least, they were safely isolated.
But that isolation came with its own challenges. He had no supplies, no weapons beyond his own partially enhanced capabilities, and no idea how long Skaravosk's dormancy might last. The dragon had said days at minimum—possibly longer. Tom would need to find food, water, and additional clothing if he intended to survive that period.
And survive he would. Not merely out of habit or training, but because Skaravosk would eventually return, and their partnership would continue. They had accomplished something momentous today—thwarted a Working that might have fundamentally altered the balance of power in the ongoing conflict. But the cost had been high, leaving them both severely depleted and temporarily separated.
"Rest well, old dragon," Tom said aloud to the empty cave. "Don't worry about a thing while you're snoring in there. I promise not to redecorate your cave or invite any lady dragons over for dinner. Though I might leave the dishes for you when you wake up, Skarry."
With determined practicality, he set about addressing immediate needs. Water would come first—he could hear a stream somewhere within the cave system. Then food—his enhanced senses could track game even in his weakened state. Shelter was already secured. Basic survival requirements that formed the foundation of everything else.
As he worked, Tom found himself speaking occasionally to the silent presence he knew remained within him, sharing observations or plans as if Skaravosk could hear. Perhaps he could, on some level beyond conscious awareness. Or perhaps Tom simply needed the familiar rhythm of their exchange, the partnership that had come to define his existence.
Either way, he would endure this separation as he had endured every other challenge—with pragmatic acceptance and stubborn persistence.
The once-unremarkable soldier had revealed a dragon to the world today. Whatever consequences came from that revelation, he would face them with or without his draconic partner at his side.
After all, survival was what Tom Reed did best. Even when survival meant waiting for an ancient consciousness to reawaken from well-earned rest.
Far to the south, on the blood-soaked fields where the kingdom's army battled the Demon King's forces, four figures paused in their activities. The Heroes from the East—Takashi Yamamoto the Sword Saint, Mei Lin the Shield Maiden, Hiroshi Nakamura the Storm Caller, and Akiko Tanaka the Healer—each felt the dimensional ripple caused by the failed Working and its catastrophic collapse.
"Did you feel that?" Hiroshi asked, his eyes turning northward despite the battle raging around them.
Takashi nodded, his impassive face showing rare concern. "A dimensional working has failed. Powerful enough to register even at this distance."
"Not failed," Akiko corrected quietly. "Interrupted. By something... ancient."
"Dragon," Mei whispered, her eyes widening. "That was draconic energy. But how? They've been gone from this world for centuries."
The four exchanged meaningful glances, each recognizing the implications. The prophecy that had brought them to this world had mentioned many threats and allies, but dragons had featured in only the most obscure verses—passages they had dismissed as metaphorical rather than literal.
"We need to investigate," Takashi decided. "Whatever interrupted the Working likely thwarted something significant in the Demon King's plans. Ally or not, we must understand what has entered the equation."
Mei nodded toward the battlefield, where demon forces continued to press against the kingdom's defensive lines. "The front still needs us."
"It will hold another day," Hiroshi replied. "This...this changes everything."
Without further discussion, the four moved in perfect coordination, disengaging from the battle line and withdrawing to a position where Akiko could establish a teleportation circle. Within minutes, they had vanished from the southern front, leaving confused commanders to maintain the fight without their supernatural assistance.
The Heroes were hunting a dragon. A dragon that had somehow returned to a world that had relegated its kind to myth and legend.
And in doing so, they were acknowledging a truth they had long suspected but never confirmed—that the prophecy that had brought them to this world was far more complex than anyone had revealed.
In a dimension adjacent to the material world, separated by barriers that had stood for millennia, something stirred. Within a vast chamber of crystalline architecture that defied conventional geometry, a massive form shifted position for the first time in centuries.
Golden scales caught nonexistent light as the Golden Serpent, eldest of the Dragon Kings, raised his head from ancient contemplation. Eyes that contained galaxies opened slowly, focusing on a disturbance in the dimensional fabric that should have been impossible.
"Skaravosk," the ancient being rumbled, the name reverberating through multiple planes of existence. "You live."
Around the chamber, other massive forms stirred—the remaining Dragon Kings who had withdrawn from the mortal world after the betrayal and binding of their crimson brother. The Jade Wind. The Obsidian Mountain. The Silver Tempest. Each turned ancient attention toward the dimensional ripple that signaled the return of one they had believed destroyed.
"How?" demanded the Jade Wind, her serpentine form coiling with agitation. "The binding was absolute. The demon lords assured us of his destruction."
"The demons lied to us," rumbled the Obsidian Mountain, his voice like grinding continents. "As is their nature."
The Golden Serpent's expression remained inscrutable, but his eyes narrowed fractionally. "Not destruction. Transformation. He has found... a host."
Silence fell across the chamber as the implications settled among beings whose thoughts moved with the deliberate pace of mountains eroding.
"The Compact is broken then," the Silver Tempest hissed eventually. "Our withdrawal was predicated on all Dragon Kings agreeing to abandon the lesser realms."
"Not yet," the Golden Serpent countered. "Skaravosk's return does not necessarily constitute intent to rule. We must... observe."
"And if he seeks vengeance?" the Jade Wind asked. "For our role in his binding?"
The Golden Serpent's massive head turned slowly, golden eyes fixing on his green-scaled sister with ancient calculation. "Then we remind him why the Compact was necessary. Why our withdrawal preserved draconic existence when the alternatives would have led to our extinction."
The great dragon settled back into contemplative posture, though his awareness remained focused on the distant disturbance that had rippled across dimensions. "For now, we wait. Skaravosk has expended tremendous energy in this manifestation. He will be... dormant... for some time. When he awakens, we will know more of his intentions."
Throughout the crystalline chamber, scales rasped against stone as the Dragon Kings resumed their meditative states, though none fully returned to the deep contemplation that had occupied millennia. After an age of isolation and indifference, their attention once again turned toward the mortal world and the brother they had betrayed for what they had believed was the greater good.
Skaravosk had returned. The consequences remained to be seen.
But one thing was certain—the age of draconic absence from the world was ended. What would follow might be cooperation, indifference, or devastating conflict. Only time would tell.
And dragons had nothing if not time.