God’s Tree

The wind shifted.

They felt it before they saw it—

a ripple in the air, distant at first, then growing stronger.

Argolaith slowed slightly, his stride never faltering, but his hand dropped to the hilt of his sword.

Malakar turned his head to the sky. "Incoming."

Kaelred, still sore from days of magical shadow travel, looked up with a groan. "Oh come on, now what?"

Overhead, something large streaked across the pale-blue sky—wings wide as sailcloth, a body long and sinuous, like a serpent bound in plated armor. Its scales shimmered dark bronze and forest green, and as it drew closer, sunlight danced off jagged horns crowning its head.

But what caught Argolaith's attention most—

Was the collar.

Wrapped tight around the creature's neck was a thick, dark-metal band engraved with glowing runes.

Malakar's eyes narrowed. "Not feral."

Kaelred squinted. "That's a… that's a dragon?"

"No," Malakar murmured. "Not entirely."

The creature circled once overhead before swooping low and landing in a thunderous crash of wings and wind.

Dust spiraled outward as the beast set its clawed feet onto the cracked stone path.

Now that it was closer, they could see more clearly—its body was draconic, yes, but it had humanoid eyes, intelligent and calm. Its wings bore streaks of leatherlike flesh veined with glowing threads, and its forelimbs ended not in claws, but articulated hands, capable of grasping tools or weapons.

It looked down at them with narrowed golden irises.

Then, in a smooth and perfectly human voice, it spoke:

"Where are you going?"

Kaelred stepped behind Argolaith, both blades halfway drawn. "Okay. Nope. Nope. I hate that. Talking dragon? No thank you."

The creature's head tilted, amused.

Argolaith stepped forward, unwavering. "We're heading toward the second tree."

Malakar echoed calmly, "Argolaith is bound to it. It calls him."

The hybrid's eyes sharpened. "A bearer of the seed?"

Argolaith nodded once.

The creature blinked slowly. Then, with a strange hint of mirth in its voice:

"Would you like a ride?"

Kaelred immediately threw up his hands. "Wait. What? No! Absolutely not. What kind of weird, talking dragon asks that? This is how people end up eaten!"

Malakar's response was dry. "You are not appetizing enough to be worth that effort."

"Gee, thanks."

But Argolaith didn't hesitate.

"Yes."

Kaelred's jaw dropped. "You didn't even think about it!"

Argolaith's golden eyes stayed locked on the creature. "It saves time."

Kaelred shook his head violently. "No. No. You don't just climb on the back of a magical dragon hybrid with a glowing collar who shows up out of nowhere and asks if you want a ride."

The dragon chuckled. "I'm not going to eat you. If I were, you'd be dead already."

Malakar gave Argolaith a faint nod. "We would reach the tree sooner. And the creature is not lying."

Kaelred groaned. "I hate how you both say that like it's normal."

Argolaith turned toward the hybrid. "How close can you get us?"

The creature's wings opened halfway. "Closer than you can run. And faster."

Kaelred blinked at that. "…Well now I feel insulted."

Argolaith stepped forward, hand already on the edge of one of the wing joints. "We're wasting time."

Kaelred stared at him, then at the hybrid, then at Malakar. "You're all insane."

And yet—

He climbed aboard.

Because, of course, he did.

Wind howled past them as the hybrid soared through the sky, wings slicing the clouds. The land below—ridges, ravines, broken mountains—blurred into distant gray as they climbed higher.

Argolaith sat near the front, one hand resting on the curve of the beast's back. His golden eyes watched the shifting horizon, feeling the pull of the second tree like a magnet buried in the sky.

Kaelred clung tightly behind him, muttering with every rise and dip. "This is insane. I can't believe we're doing this. This is actually happening."

Malakar stood easily near the base of the creature's neck, perfectly balanced, violet flames flickering in the wind.

Then—

The dragon hybrid spoke again.

Its voice carried with ease, clear even against the roaring air.

"Where is your tree, bearer?"

Argolaith's voice was steady. "South. Still four hundred thousand miles."

The creature let out a low hum. "Far."

It banked slightly, adjusting their course. "I can get you closer than you've ever been."

Kaelred muttered, "Closer to our deaths, maybe."

The dragon's eyes narrowed slightly, but it didn't respond.

Not right away.

Instead, the creature asked, "Do you know what I am?"

Malakar answered before Argolaith could. "A hybrid. Bound by old magic."

The creature chuckled. "Not just any magic."

Its voice deepened slightly, laced with a dark edge.

"I was made by Zolgrich. The First Lich."

The name cut through the air like a blade.

Even Kaelred stopped mumbling. "Wait. The First Lich? That's real?"

Malakar's tone darkened. "Very real. He was the one who first pulled life from death and bound it into will."

The dragon nodded. "I am one of his experiments. A beast crafted from dragon blood, shadow marrow, and the bones of a fallen god. Given thought. Given form. And bound to serve with a collar of runes he carved in blood."

Kaelred paled. "Cool. So we're riding an apocalypse pet. Love that for us."

The dragon gave a low, amused rumble. "I was meant to be a weapon. But I was too willful. He left me to wander after the second binding cracked."

Malakar studied the collar closely. "It is fractured. But not broken."

"Not yet," the dragon said. "But soon."

Argolaith glanced over his shoulder. "Then why help us?"

The dragon hybrid went quiet for a moment.

Then, slowly, it said, "You smell wrong."

Kaelred blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

The creature angled its wings, catching a crosswind as it climbed higher.

"Not bad. Not rotten. Not Hollowed," it clarified. "But different. I've smelled only one other thing like it."

Argolaith raised an eyebrow. "What?"

The hybrid's voice dropped to a reverent tone.

"The Greater Realms. The place where the True Dragons came from. The place beyond this world."

Malakar's expression didn't change, but he glanced at Argolaith.

The dragon continued. "I don't know what you are, bearer. But you are not just of this soil. You carry something… ancient."

Argolaith said nothing.

Because deep down—he'd wondered the same.

The way the tree called to him.

The way the Hollowed reacted to him.

The way even death seemed to step aside when he passed.

Kaelred looked between them. "So now we've got a talking hybrid made by the world's first necromancer, a possible world-walker with tree blood, and a dead guy who still somehow eats stew. I need a break."

Malakar smirked. "Rest while you can."

Argolaith finally asked, "Do you have a name?"

The dragon paused. Then—

"In the tongue of Zolgrich, I was called Thae'Zirak. It means 'the flame that was stolen.'"

Kaelred squinted. "That's a lot. Can I call you Zirak?"

Thae'Zirak chuckled. "You may call me what you like. So long as you hold on when I dive."

Kaelred immediately gripped tighter. "Noted."

As the sky darkened with the onset of twilight, the second tree's presence grew just a little clearer—but not yet near.

They had covered thousands more miles, but the final 400,000 still stretched ahead.

Argolaith felt it beating like a war drum in his chest.

Closer.

But not close enough.

Thae'Zirak flew on, unbothered, the wind shifting beneath his wings.

And Argolaith's thoughts churned.

The Greater Realms.

The strange smell.

The pull of the second tree.

Whatever was waiting at the end of this path—

It was going to change everything.