"This story is older than the Primal Dragon."
I stared at Tadewi.
And slowly...
I sat.
Nobody else did.
Muir remained standing near the head of the table.
Willow leaned against its edge, arms folded across her chest.
Revik had claimed the wall beside the doors, close enough to block anyone foolish enough to interrupt us and far enough away to pretend he wasn't listening to every word.
Tadewi lowered herself into the chair across from me.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
That did nothing for my patience.
"You said you knew something."
"I said what you are asking about began before the kingdoms."
"That's a very elegant way of avoiding the question."
Revik made a suspicious coughing sound.
I ignored him.
Tadewi did not.
Her orange eyes flicked toward him.
"Something amusing, Captain?"
"Not remotely."
"Liar."
"Frequently."
Normally I might have smiled.
Today, I didn't.
Tadewi's gaze returned to me.
"What I'm about to tell you isn't written history."
"Fine."
"It cannot be proven."
"Still fine."
"And there are scholars in every kingdom who would tell you it's nothing more than a children's tale."
I leaned forward.
"Tadewi."
One dark eyebrow lifted.
"What?"
"If you add another warning, I may actually scream."
Muir lowered his head.
Willow looked suspiciously toward the window.
Traitors.
Tadewi's mouth twitched.
Only slightly.
Then the humor vanished.
"My grandmother told me this story when I was a girl."
I stilled.
"She learned it from her grandmother. Who learned it from hers."
"How far back?"
"We don't know."
That wasn't particularly reassuring.
"Air tribes didn't always write their histories."
Tadewi rested both hands over the top of her staff.
"We carried them."
Her fingers tapped once against the wood.
"In stories. Songs. Names. Rituals."
"Stories change."
Willow's voice was gentle.
Tadewi nodded.
"They do."
She didn't sound offended.
"Which is why I'm telling you now that I cannot promise every word is true."
I almost interrupted.
She raised one finger.
"But."
I closed my mouth.
"Stories change," she continued. "Details disappear. Names are replaced. Victors make themselves heroes. Kings turn mistakes into triumphs."
Her eyes settled on me.
"But the oldest stories usually keep the bones."
Something cold moved through me.
The bones.
I thought about Mortimer touching my hair.
It's the same.
"Tell me."
Tadewi inhaled slowly.
Then—
"In the beginning..."
Revik groaned quietly.
"Really?"
Tadewi looked at him.
"Would you prefer I begin halfway through?"
"No."
"Then be silent."
He crossed his arms.
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Tadewi turned back to me.
"In the beginning, there was Darkness."
The room seemed colder.
Not magically.
Just...
the word.
Darkness.
Mortimer.
"There was no Fire," Tadewi continued.
"No Water."
Her finger tapped against her staff.
"No Earth."
Another tap.
"No Air."
I frowned.
"What do you mean there was no Earth? What was everyone standing on?"
Revik snorted.
Tadewi gave me a look.
"It's a creation story, Lyra."
"I'm trying to understand."
"You've been trying for approximately twelve seconds."
"And already I have concerns."
Muir muttered, "This is going well."
Tadewi ignored us all.
"The stories don't mean nothing existed. They mean the elements as we understand them did not yet have form. No gods. No nations. No bloodlines."
She paused.
"Only Darkness."
My amusement disappeared.
"Mortimer?"
"We believe so."
Believe.
Not know.
I filed that away.
"What was he?"
Tadewi's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Depends which version you believe."
"Yours."
"A force."
That wasn't helpful.
She must have seen it on my face.
"Not a man."
My skin prickled.
"Not originally."
That was more interesting.
"Darkness was described as endless. Shapeless. Existing in everything that had not yet been illuminated."
Muir shifted.
"And then came Light."
Tadewi nodded.
"Then came Light."
The Moon Goddess stirred nowhere inside me.
I reached instinctively for her.
Silence.
Of course.
Tadewi continued.
"No story agrees on where Light came from."
I frowned.
"She simply appeared?"
"According to some."
"Others?"
"She was born from Darkness."
My stomach tightened.
Tadewi lifted one shoulder.
"Some say she existed all along and Darkness simply couldn't see her."
Something about that made the hairs rise along my arms.
"And some say the world created her because Darkness had existed alone for too long."
"Which did your grandmother believe?"
Tadewi smiled faintly.
"She said anyone claiming to know what happened before there were people around to see it was probably trying to sell you something."
I blinked.
"I think I would've liked your grandmother."
"You would have driven each other mad."
"Also possible."
The smile disappeared.
"But every version agrees on one thing."
Tadewi looked directly at me.
"Darkness and Light could not exist peacefully together."
There it was.
Enemies.
That made sense.
That was what darkness and light did.
One consumed the other.
"They fought?"
"Constantly."
"Why?"
"Because each changed the other simply by existing."
I frowned.
Tadewi leaned forward.
"Light entered Darkness, and suddenly Darkness had edges."
Her voice had changed.
Lower now.
Rhythmic.
Like she had heard these words hundreds of times before.
"Darkness swallowed Light, and Light learned how fiercely it wished to burn."
The room disappeared around me for a moment.
I saw nothing.
Just imagined it.
Something vast.
Black.
Something bright enough to wound it.
"They collided," Tadewi said.
"And from those collisions came everything else."
A strange pressure settled in my chest.
"Fire."
"Kagutsuchi," I whispered.
"Eventually."
She shook her head.
"Not as you know him now. Not at first."
"Then what?"
"Fire."
Simple.
"Heat born where Light burned too fiercely against Darkness."
My fingers twitched.
A spark danced over them before I stopped it.
Tadewi's eyes followed.
"Water came next. Cooling what Fire consumed."
Blue runes beneath my skin tingled.
"Earth formed where the two forces struck one another with such violence that the world needed something strong enough to endure them."
Willow straightened.
Her expression had changed.
Not disbelief.
Recognition.
Perhaps she'd heard her own version.
"And Air?" Revik asked.
Tadewi glanced toward him.
"Air was what remained between them."
Silence.
"The space neither could possess."
A faint breeze moved through the closed room.
Tadewi's orange eyes brightened.
"For that reason, my people have always said Air belongs to no one."
Something about the words felt important.
I didn't know why.
"So Darkness and Light created the elements?"
"Not intentionally."
"By fighting."
"Yes."
I stared down at my hands.
Fire.
Water.
Earth.
And somewhere beyond them—
Air.
All born from conflict.
Opposing forces striking until something new existed between them.
Balance.
The word came uninvited.
I looked up.
"What happened to the elements?"
"They changed."
"Into gods."
"Eventually."
Tadewi nodded.
"The old stories say that when the elements became strong enough to possess will, they became more than forces."
"Kagutsuchi."
"Fire."
"Njord."
"Water."
"Earth."
"Gaia."
"And Air."
Tadewi's fingers tightened on her staff.
"My goddess, Okaga."
Four.
Created between two.
Light and Darkness.
I reached inward again.
Not toward any particular god.
Just...
listened.
Nothing.
All four remained silent.
That silence no longer felt accidental.
My irritation returned.
"They know this."
Tadewi didn't answer.
"They were there."
"If the stories are accurate."
"They're ignoring me because they were there."
"Lyra."
"No."
I pushed back from the table.
Not standing.
Just needing space.
"This is what I mean. Every time I get close to something that matters, everyone suddenly becomes very interested in silence."
"Gods are not obligated to answer us."
I stared at Tadewi.
"Then they should stop asking us to fix their problems."
Revik coughed again.
Muir pointed at him without looking.
"Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"You keep almost saying things."
"I can't control my lungs."
Willow muttered, "Unfortunately."
Normally that would have gotten him.
He stayed quiet.
I looked at Tadewi.
"What happened next?"
Her expression darkened.
"Humanity."
That was apparently answer enough.
I sighed.
"Of course."
Muir's mouth twitched.
Tadewi gave me an unimpressed look.
"Would you like to tell it?"
"No."
"Good."
She continued.
"No one agrees on when humans appeared. Some stories say Earth shaped the first bodies and Air gave them breath."
"Water gave blood," Willow said quietly.
Tadewi nodded.
"And Fire gave them spirit."
I looked down at my hands again.
Four elements.
One human.
That sounded suspiciously familiar.
"But humans were fragile."
Tadewi's voice softened.
"And the gods..."
"Weren't."
"No."
She looked toward the windows.
"Imagine being born into a world where beings of incomprehensible power still fought openly."
I didn't have to imagine very hard.
"Mortimer began influencing them."
"Corrupting them?"
"That is the word most stories use."
Something in Tadewi's tone made me look at her.
"You don't?"
"I wasn't there."
There it was again.
That refusal to pretend certainty.
"According to the old stories, Darkness discovered humans were easier to shape than gods."
My stomach turned.
"He whispered to them?"
"Promised power."
"That sounds like him."
"Strength. Long life. Victory over enemies. Protection from those stronger than them."
Muir folded his arms.
"And in return?"
"Obedience."
Of course.
Tadewi's voice hardened.
"The first armies weren't built by kingdoms."
"They were his."
"Yes."
I thought of shadows.
Bodies moving under another will.
Raiden's face.
Raiden's voice.
Mortimer looking out from behind his eyes.
My stomach twisted.
"He was doing it even then."
Tadewi noticed my expression.
"Doing what?"
"Taking people."
Silence.
I swallowed.
"Making their bodies useful to him."
She watched me for several seconds.
"Perhaps."
Not yes.
Not no.
That annoyed me.
But I forced myself not to push.
Yet.
"What did Light do?"
Tadewi looked at me.
The room suddenly felt too still.
"She fought him."
Simple.
Expected.
"The old stories say Light believed humanity should be allowed to choose what it became."
Something inside me tightened.
"And Darkness?"
"Believed humanity required control."
There.
That sounded like Mortimer.
Not chaos.
Control.
A world made safe by removing everyone's ability to choose wrongly.
I hated how reasonable the beginning of that thought could sound.
"People got caught between them."
"Yes."
"Again."
Tadewi nodded.
"Again."
I leaned back.
"So Light and Darkness fight. Their fighting creates the elements. Those elements become gods. Humans appear. Mortimer corrupts humans. The gods fight over humanity."
"A very inelegant summary."
"But accurate?"
"Mostly."
"Good."
Tadewi sighed.
"Eventually the elemental gods chose humans to carry pieces of their power."
"The royal bloodlines."
"Yes."
Willow uncrossed her arms.
"Earth gave power to my ancestors."
Muir nodded.
"Water to mine."
Tadewi touched her chest.
"Air chose ours."
Everyone looked at me.
I knew what came next.
"Fire."
Tadewi nodded.
"The first Fire bloodline."
Raiden.
Not Raiden.
His ancestors.
The line that eventually produced the king who killed the Primal Dragon.
My jaw tightened.
"Why?"
"Because gods couldn't continue fighting directly without destroying the world they claimed to be protecting."
"So they gave humans weapons instead."
Muir winced.
"That is one way to phrase it."
"It's the accurate way."
"No argument."
Tadewi continued.
"Kings rose around those bloodlines. Borders followed. Then kingdoms."
"And Mortimer?"
"His armies grew."
"Until?"
Tadewi went very still.
"Until Light created the Primal Dragon."
Something inside me stopped.
Created.
The word felt strange.
I couldn't explain why.
"Why a dragon?"
"According to the story, no single element could defeat Darkness."
Fire alone consumed.
Water yielded.
Earth resisted but could not pursue.
Air moved but could not hold.
"But combined..."
I looked at my hands.
Tadewi nodded.
"Combined, they could create balance."
The room suddenly felt much smaller.
"The Primal carried all four."
"Yes."
"And Light?"
"Guided it."
The words landed strangely.
Moonlight flickered at the edge of my awareness.
So faint I almost convinced myself I'd imagined it.
I froze.
There.
For the first time since the mountain.
Not a voice.
Not words.
Just—
presence.
Then gone.
My pulse jumped.
Tadewi noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Revik snorted.
I glared at him.
"What?"
"You have a terrible nothing face."
My chest tightened.
Raiden had said almost the same thing.
That isn't your nothing face.
For one second, I couldn't breathe.
Revik's expression changed immediately.
He realized it too.
"Lyra—"
"I'm fine."
The lie tasted bitter.
Earth would've hated it.
Good.
She could speak to me if she wanted to complain.
I looked back at Tadewi.
"The Primal defeated Mortimer."
"Not exactly."
My brows drew together.
"The story says the Primal broke his armies."
"Then Light sealed him."
"Yes."
"Where?"
Tadewi hesitated.
I caught it.
"Where?"
"No one knows."
"That's convenient."
"It was meant to remain unknown."
"Clearly that worked wonderfully."
"Lyra."
"He's inside my mate."
My voice cut through the room.
Silence.
I hadn't meant to say it like that.
So exposed.
So simple.
But there it was.
My mate.
Raiden.
Somewhere in the Fire Kingdom.
Or nowhere I knew.
With Mortimer capable of pushing him behind his own eyes and wearing him.
My hands curled beneath the table.
"I think I've earned the right to be critical of their sealing methods."
Tadewi's expression softened.
"I don't disagree."
That took some of the anger out of me.
Not enough.
"According to the oldest story my grandmother knew, Darkness was sealed beyond the reach of men."
"That isn't a place."
"No."
"And nobody knew how?"
"No."
"Who helped Light?"
"The gods."
"All four?"
"That is what the story claims."
Earth's voice returned in my memory.
And you should have remained where we buried you.
We.
My breath caught.
Tadewi saw it.
"What?"
"Earth said something."
Everyone focused on me.
"When Raiden and I left the prison, Mortimer recognized her."
Willow's eyes widened.
"What did he say?"
"He told her she should've stayed beneath her mountain."
"And Earth?"
I swallowed.
"She said he should have remained where we buried him."
Silence.
Tadewi sat back.
Muir swore quietly.
"So the story is true," Willow whispered.
"Some of it."
Tadewi's correction came immediately.
"Never mistake surviving fragments for complete truth."
I looked at her.
That sounded less like advice and more like warning.
"What else did Earth say?" Tadewi asked.
My mind returned to that conversation.
Still afraid of old truths?
I remember what you were.
I repeated both.
Tadewi's face changed.
Barely.
But enough.
"What?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know."
"You reacted."
"Because that's strange."
"Everything is strange."
"Stranger than usual."
Revik pushed away from the wall.
"That's not comforting."
"No."
Tadewi looked down at her staff.
"The stories don't speak of what Mortimer was before he became humanity's enemy."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"Exactly what I said."
"Wasn't he always Darkness?"
"Darkness, yes."
She looked at me.
"Evil?"
Her silence answered.
My skin prickled.
"You're saying he wasn't?"
"I'm saying the oldest stories don't call him evil."
No one moved.
"They call him Darkness."
Something about that distinction unsettled me more.
"When does that change?"
"Later."
"When humans appear?"
"Around then."
"After Light?"
Tadewi's gaze sharpened.
"Light appears much earlier."
"No. I mean—"
I struggled to find the thought.
"When do the stories stop treating him like a force and start treating him like a monster?"
Tadewi stared at me.
Slowly, her brow furrowed.
"I don't know."
That wasn't the answer I wanted.
But I believed her.
"You've never wondered?"
"I heard these stories when I was young."
She leaned back.
"To a child, Darkness becomes the villain because that's how stories work."
"And now?"
Tadewi looked toward the table.
"Now I have met enough kings to know history rarely survives power untouched."
Muir made a wounded sound.
She ignored him.
My mind raced.
Darkness.
Light.
Enemies.
Their clashes creating elements.
Humanity caught between them.
Mortimer choosing control.
Light choosing freedom.
Primal Dragon.
Sealing.
All of it fit.
Almost.
Except—
"It's the same."
The words escaped.
Tadewi looked at me.
I stood.
"None of this explains that."
"No."
"He looked at me like he knew me."
"No," Tadewi said carefully. "He looked at you like you reminded him of something."
"Someone."
"Possibly."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
Frustration exploded through me.
I shoved away from the table.
"Then we're exactly where we started."
"No."
Tadewi's voice stopped me.
I turned.
She had risen too.
"We know Mortimer and the gods share a history older than humanity."
"I already knew they knew each other."
"We know Earth remembers what Mortimer was."
I paused.
"We know the stories themselves distinguish between Darkness as he began and what he became."
Another pause.
"And we know four gods have chosen the same moment to stop speaking to you."
My jaw tightened.
"Which means?"
"It means you're asking the correct question."
"Wonderful. I'll carve that on my grave."
"Lyra."
"What?"
Tadewi stepped toward me.
"The gods aren't silent because there is nothing to tell you."
A chill spread over my skin.
"They're silent because there is."
No one spoke.
I looked inward again.
Fire.
Water.
Earth.
Moonlight.
Four doors.
Four connections.
Four ancient beings pretending I wasn't knocking.
Fine.
If they wouldn't open the doors...
I'd find another way in.
"There has to be more."
"There always is."
"Your grandmother never told you anything else?"
Tadewi went quiet.
Not evasive.
Searching.
Her eyes unfocused.
"One thing."
I waited.
"When she told the story, I used to ask why Darkness and Light kept fighting."
My heartbeat slowed.
"What did she say?"
Tadewi's gaze met mine.
"That was simply their nature."
I frowned.
"That doesn't sound useful."
"I didn't say I agreed."
Something in her voice stopped me.
"She had a phrase."
"What phrase?"
Tadewi was silent for so long I thought perhaps she'd forgotten.
Then—
"'Where Light wandered, Darkness followed.'"
Cold moved over my arms.
"And?"
"'Where Darkness gathered...'"
Her expression tightened.
"'Light always returned.'"
The words settled into the room.
I didn't understand why they bothered me.
Natural enemies.
Of course they'd seek each other out.
Of course Light would fight Darkness wherever he appeared.
That was the story.
It made sense.
So why did it feel like I was hearing something I wasn't supposed to understand yet?
Revik spoke first.
"Sounds like war."
"Yes," Tadewi said.
But she didn't sound convinced.
Willow frowned.
"Or balance."
Nobody answered her.
My pulse beat louder.
Balance.
Opposites.
Earth choosing Raiden and me.
Darkness inside him.
Light speaking to me.
Raiden and I meeting.
Fighting.
Separating.
Finding each other.
Again.
My stomach turned.
No.
That was too convenient.
Too much.
I looked inward.
Straight toward moonlight.
Is that why?
Nothing.
Is that what he recognized?
Silence.
My anger flared.
Answer me.
For one second—
Silver light burst behind my eyes.
I gasped.
A feeling hit me.
Not words.
Grief.
So violent my knees nearly gave out.
A hand caught my arm.
Muir.
"Lyra?"
Then it vanished.
Completely.
I jerked free, staring at nothing.
Everyone was watching me.
Tadewi had gone pale.
"What happened?"
I could barely speak.
"She heard me."
"The Moon Goddess?"
I nodded.
"What did she say?"
"Nothing."
My voice cracked.
"She didn't say anything."
I pressed a hand against my chest.
The grief was gone.
But the memory of it wasn't.
It had been enormous.
Ancient.
Not sadness.
Not regret.
Something deeper.
Something that had survived far too long.
I looked toward Tadewi.
"Your story is wrong."
Her expression didn't change.
"Probably."
"No."
I shook my head.
"I mean something important is wrong."
Silence.
Tadewi stared at me.
Then slowly—
she nodded.
"I think so