But I found myself completely dumbfounded by what my eyes fell upon. It was definitely Aiona—I recognized her immediately, the distinctive features and bearing that had become so familiar to me over these months. But something fundamental had changed about her appearance, something that went beyond mere clothing or styling.
Her black and silver southern attire—the practical, elegant outfit she had always worn in her domain—had been completely replaced by something far more elaborate and regal. She now wore a stunning red-colored gown in the southern style, the fabric flowing and luxurious, clearly made from materials of the highest quality. Over her shoulders draped a matching shawl that complemented the gown perfectly. Both pieces were adorned with intricate, beautiful patterns worked in golden thread—geometric designs that caught the light and seemed to shimmer with every slight movement. The craftsmanship was extraordinary, the kind of artistry that took skilled hands weeks or even months to complete.
Her hair, which she had previously worn in a simple, functional style, had been transformed into an elaborate updo. The arrangement was voluminous and sophisticated, her luscious dark locks styled with obvious care and considerable time investment. The hairstyle alone must have taken hours to create, each section carefully positioned and secured. And adorning this magnificent coiffure were pieces of gold jewelry—delicate hairpins, combs, and ornaments that gleamed against her dark hair like stars against a night sky.
She looked absolutely, breathtakingly gorgeous. Regal and powerful and otherworldly in a way that made it difficult to breathe properly.
I spent a full minute simply gawking at her, my mouth slightly open in undisguised astonishment, completely unable to formulate coherent thoughts. What was happening? How had all of this come to be? The transformation wasn't just aesthetic—there was something deeper, something fundamental that had shifted. I could sense it in the air around her, in the way she held herself, in the quality of presence she now projected.
"You have to thank the old man for all of this," Aiona finally said, breaking the silence with a hint of amusement coloring her voice. She seemed to be enjoying my shocked reaction, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
"You mean Rulha?" I asked, still struggling to process what I was seeing, my brain trying to connect the dots between the god who had saved my life and this dramatic transformation in Aiona's appearance and domain.
"Yes, precisely," she confirmed, executing a small, graceful gesture that made the golden embroidery on her gown catch the light spectacularly. "He didn't merely cure you of your wounds and pull you back from death's door. He gave you something far more significant—he gave you the essence of himself. A portion of his divine power, his god-nature, directly integrated into your being. That's why you're seeing all these upgrades, all these changes. We possess considerably more power than we did before, and some of the rules and limitations that previously governed our existence no longer apply to us anymore."
Her voice carried a weight it hadn't possessed before, resonating with newfound power that made the air around us feel charged with potential energy.
Was that necessarily a good thing? I honestly couldn't determine the answer. The implications were staggering and potentially dangerous. More power meant more responsibility, more potential for both creation and destruction. But Aiona seemed genuinely pleased with these developments, practically radiating satisfaction with the upgrades to her domain and capabilities. So perhaps I was worrying unnecessarily. If she was happy with the changes, maybe that indicated they weren't something to fear.
"Have you met him before?" Aiona asked, shifting her weight slightly, the movement causing her shawl to ripple like water. "Rulha, I mean. Did you encounter him at some point during your unconsciousness?"
I understood immediately what she was asking. Have I met the ancestral god? Yes, I had. Multiple times, actually.
"Yes, I've met him twice now," I replied truthfully, organizing my memories of those encounters. "The first time was in a prophetic dream—one of those visions that I've started experiencing as my transformation has progressed. He appeared to me in a snow-covered forest and spoke to me there. And then the second time was when you were praying for my recovery. I was pulled into his domain, to that ancient cliff overlooking the primordial world. That's where he made his offer and gave me his essence."
Aiona's expression shifted, becoming more serious, more intent. She studied my face carefully, as though searching for something specific in my features or demeanor.
"Did he tell you what the Abyss really is?" she asked, her voice dropping lower, more cautious. "Did he reveal that particular secret?"
Their long-guarded truth was now apparently out in the open, ready to be discussed freely.
"Yes," I confirmed. "Considering that when we met, we were standing at the very edge of the Abyss itself, the subject came up naturally."
The memory of that conversation was still vivid in my mind. I had asked Rulha directly about the supposed punishment he and the other dragons were meant to be enduring—wasn't he supposed to be atoning for his sins against humanity in the depths of the Abyss? The question had made the mighty dragon god laugh, a sound like thunder rolling across distant mountains.
Then he had explained with characteristic arrogance: The Abyss doesn't exist in the conventional sense of physical existence. It's not a place you can point to on a map or travel to through ordinary means. Rather, it exists everywhere that doesn't belong to baseline reality—which means that even the landscape of minds and dreams is technically part of the Abyss itself. Everything below the surface of conventional reality, every layer of existence that operates on different rules, can be considered part of the Abyss.
By existing solely within the Abyss, dragons lost their ability to directly interact with or influence surface reality—the physical world where humans and other mortal creatures lived. But they could still exert influence through vessels, through beings like me who existed in both realms simultaneously, who could serve as conduits for draconic power to manifest in the material world.
That wasn't really punishment at all, I had thought to myself at the time. Just existing below the surface, dwelling in a realm of pure potential and possibility, didn't seem like such a terrible fate. The dragons had never truly been punished for whatever transgressions had led to their supposed exile. It was more like a forced retirement, a relocation to a different plane of existence rather than actual atonement.
"You think it's profoundly unfair, don't you?" Aiona said, apparently reading my thoughts or perhaps just reading my expression accurately. "You believe the dragons got away with their crimes without facing real consequences."
"Well," she continued before I could formulate a response, her tone taking on a slightly bitter edge, "try being the cosmic forces' favorite creation for a few millennia and then tell me if it's such a wonderful advantage. Being favored comes with its own particular form of burden. The universe has expectations for its favorites, and failing to meet those expectations... let's just say there are consequences that aren't immediately visible but are no less real."
Then, without warning, she extended her hand toward me, palm up in clear invitation. I looked at her hand, then up at her face, puzzled by the sudden shift in topic and mood.
"Why don't we explore the newly expanded domain together?" she suggested, her earlier seriousness giving way to something that looked almost like playful excitement. "There's so much to see now, and I think you'll appreciate what's been added."
I smiled and happily placed my hand in hers, expecting perhaps that we would walk together through the transformed landscape. But the next thing I knew, the ground beneath my feet had vanished completely, and I was suddenly free-falling through Aiona's sky. The sensation of plummeting was so unexpected, so shocking, that I opened my mouth to scream—
But before any sound could emerge, an enormous dragon appeared directly below me, materializing out of nothing in an instant. Its scales were magnificently black with a silver sheen that caught the light beautifully, creating an effect like moonlight on dark water. The dragon was great in size, powerful and graceful simultaneously.
I dropped onto its back with less grace than I would have preferred, landing in an undignified heap. It took me several seconds to adjust to this new situation, to orient myself and find some semblance of balance on the dragon's broad back. My heart was hammering from the shock of the unexpected fall.
Then the dragon—Aiona in her true form, I realized—began to fly. She started moving through the air with powerful sweeps of her wings, and I immediately grabbed onto her neck in instinctive terror, afraid that the strong winds of flight would blow me off her back and send me tumbling to whatever lay below.
But as we continued flying, I gradually realized that the way Aiona moved through the air was remarkably gentle despite the speed we were traveling. The wind that rushed past us was somehow softened, controlled, prevented from becoming the violent buffeting force I had feared. Slowly, my panic subsided. I cautiously released my death grip on her neck, sat upright properly, and began actually enjoying the experience rather than just surviving it.
The expanded domain spread out below us was absolutely divine in its beauty—a god-given landscape that seemed too perfect, too intentionally crafted to be natural. There was something about it that mixed prehistoric and historical essences together in a way that created breathtaking vistas at every turn. The white-barked forest with its blood-red leaves stretched in one direction like a living tapestry. The golden rice fields undulated in another direction like waves on a sun-touched sea. Mountains rose in the distance, their peaks touching clouds that looked painted rather than formed by natural meteorological processes.
And the wind that embraced me as we flew felt absolutely wonderful against my skin—cool but not cold, refreshing without being harsh. The sensation of flight itself produced a feeling that defied adequate description in mere words. There was freedom in it, a liberation from the constraints of earth and gravity. Joy mixed with exhilaration mixed with a profound sense of rightness, as though humans were always meant to fly but had simply forgotten how.
We spent what felt like hours flying around the domain, Aiona showing me various features and points of interest—a crystalline lake that reflected the sky so perfectly you couldn't tell where water ended and air began, a grove of trees that sang in harmony when the wind passed through their branches, a canyon carved with patterns that told the history of dragonkind in visual form.
When our aerial tour finally came to an end, Aiona set us down gently in a clearing that overlooked both the rice fields and the beginning of the white-barked forest. It was a perfect vantage point, offering views of multiple landscapes simultaneously. She transformed back into her human form, once again wearing that magnificent red gown, and settled herself on the grass with elegant composure.
"About that woman I killed," Aiona said after we had sat together in comfortable silence for several minutes, both of us simply absorbing the peaceful beauty of our surroundings.
The abrupt topic change caught me slightly off guard, but I listened without interrupting.
"I want you to know that I'm not sorry for what I did, and I'm not regretting it even slightly," she continued, her voice firm and unapologetic. "The cosmic law itself judged the situation and determined it fell under legitimate self-defense. But if you hate me because of what happened, if you can't forgive—"
I interrupted her before she could finish that thought. "I know. I understand. And I'm not angry with you. I'm not consumed by sadness over what happened. And I'm certainly not going to hate you for it."
She turned to look at me, her expression carefully neutral but her eyes betraying surprise at my response.
"I've had considerable time to think about all of this," I explained, organizing my thoughts carefully so I could articulate what I had concluded during those long months of unconsciousness. "The entire time that I was floating in that void between life and death, part of my consciousness was processing what had happened, trying to make sense of Martha's betrayal and the violence that followed."
I paused, searching for the right words to express something that felt almost inexpressible.
"And honestly? I don't really know what to think about it all. The situation is too complex, too nuanced for simple moral judgments. All I know with certainty is that regretting what happened or blaming someone for it doesn't bring Martha back from death. She's gone, and no amount of anger or grief or philosophical debate will change that fundamental reality. And I don't hate you for what you did. How could I possibly hate you?"
Aiona's brow furrowed slightly, confusion evident on her features.
"It's such a terribly complicated thing," I continued. "I honestly don't know if what happened was morally wrong or morally correct according to some absolute ethical standard. And truthfully, I don't care much about determining that either. What I think about the morality of the situation doesn't change the outcome. Even if somehow everything could be reversed, even if we could go back and make different choices, Martha would still try to kill me again to support her own ideology, to eliminate what she perceived as a threat. The cycle would simply repeat."
I turned to face Aiona directly, making sure she could see the sincerity in my eyes.
"So no, I don't hate you, Aiona. How could I hate myself? You are fundamentally a part of me now. We're not separate beings who happen to share space—we're becoming one entity, one consciousness. Your actions are my actions. Your crimes, if we want to call them that, are my crimes. We committed that act together, even if only one of us was controlling our shared body at the time. So please don't torture yourself worrying about whether I blame you or resent you. I don't."
Aiona simply stared at me, her expression somewhere between astonishment and bewilderment, as though I had just said something so unexpected that her mind needed time to fully process it.
"You are an incredibly weird human being," she finally said, though her tone carried affection rather than criticism. "Every single time I think I've finally figured you out completely, every time I believe I understand how your mind works and can predict your responses, you prove me spectacularly wrong. You're a weird, unpredictable human, and I genuinely don't know what to make of you half the time."
The last part seemed to be spoken more to herself than to me, as though she was puzzling over some complex equation that refused to resolve.
We spent more time sitting together in comfortable silence after that exchange. The breeze that moved through Aiona's domain was pleasantly cool without being cold, gentle rather than harsh. And I noticed that the sun in her domain had fundamentally changed—it no longer possessed that violent, overwhelming intensity it had carried before. Now it felt warm and nurturing but not overwhelming, like the perfect spring afternoon that exists more in imagination than in reality.
"What else did you ask Rulha about?" Aiona asked eventually, her tone carefully casual in a way that suggested the question was anything but casual. "During your conversations with him, what other topics did you discuss?"
"I asked him how to break the curse," I replied with deliberate casualness, as though this were no more significant than asking about the weather.
My answer made Aiona physically jolt. She actually got to her feet abruptly and took several steps backward, putting distance between us. Her expression had shifted dramatically, showing something that looked almost like fear mixed with defensive wariness.
"So did the old man actually tell you the method?" she asked, her voice noticeably shaky now, lacking the confidence and power it had carried just moments before. "Did Rulha reveal how the curse that's plagued your bloodline for generations can finally be broken?"
"He did," I confirmed, still maintaining that casual tone, deliberately not reacting to her obvious distress. "He's rather irresponsible with information, isn't he? Just casually revealing secrets that probably should remain hidden, offering solutions to problems without considering the consequences of that knowledge."
I kept my gaze fixed on the distant horizon rather than looking at Aiona's defensive stance.
"Were you—" Aiona began, then had to pause and swallow hard before continuing. "Are you planning to break the curse? Now that you know how, are you going to do it?"
Her voice trembled with barely suppressed emotion—fear, certainly, but also something else. Hurt, perhaps. Or betrayal at the thought that I might choose that path.
"No," I answered simply, finally turning to look directly at her so she could see the absolute certainty in my eyes.
"I will not kill you in order to break the curse, Aiona," I stated clearly, leaving no room for ambiguity or misinterpretation. "That option is completely off the table. It will never be something I consider, regardless of what benefits breaking the curse might offer."
Rulha's answer to my question had been characteristically blunt and direct: If you want to break the curse that has followed your bloodline generation after generation, simply kill the dragon you've bonded with. Sever that connection permanently through death, and the curse will end with you rather than passing to your descendants.
He hadn't specified the exact method—hadn't explained whether it needed to be a ritual killing or if any death would suffice, hadn't detailed what would happen to me when that bond was violently severed. But I understood the fundamental requirement clearly enough.
And I had already decided, even before fully waking from my healing sleep, that I would never take that path. Whatever price the curse demanded, whatever suffering it might cause in future generations, I would not purchase freedom from it with Aiona's life.
Some costs were simply too high to pay, regardless of what benefits they might purchase.