the last sovereign of infinity

There were certain moments in life when silence became preferable to understanding.

Lucien had experienced several already.

Discovering he had apparently lived multiple lives had been one.

Learning that dragons remembered him had been another.

Finding out that he had once promised to marry a silver-haired girl who was allegedly several thousand years old had certainly earned a place on that list.

Yet none of those compared to the simple, terrifying words that continued to echo through the Infinite Mindscape.

«The Worldbreaker has returned.»

The title felt familiar.

That was the problem.

It wasn't the sort of familiarity one felt upon hearing an old story or recognizing a face in a crowd. It was deeper than that.

Older.

Like a scar hidden beneath the skin.

Lucien remained perfectly still, though every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to ask questions.

Thousands of them.

Instead, he focused on the one thing that genuinely concerned him.

The Last Witness was afraid.

In the short time since his rebirth, Lucien had come to understand several things about the old man.

He was irritating.

He was mysterious.

And he possessed the unsettling habit of speaking as though the destruction of worlds was a mildly inconvenient event.

Fear did not suit him.

Yet there it was.

Hidden beneath the old man's calm expression.

"Master."

No response.

"Master."

The Last Witness finally looked up from the shattered remains of his teacup.

"I had hoped..." he said quietly, "...that we would have more time."

Lucien frowned.

"More time for what?"

The old man didn't answer immediately.

Outside the Infinite Mindscape, the conversation in the eastern hall continued.

The royal envoy was speaking.

Cassian was listening.

Seraphina had yet to take her eyes off him.

Yet all of it felt distant.

Insignificant.

Because somewhere in the darkness beyond the stars, a door had begun to open.

"The Worldbreaker is not a title."

Lucien's attention immediately returned to the old man.

"No?"

"It is a warning."

Silence.

"What does that mean?"

The Last Witness looked toward the heavens.

"Long ago, before this universe took its first breath, there were names that reality itself feared."

Lucien suddenly had the distinct feeling that he wasn't going to enjoy where this conversation was headed.

"You were one of them."

There it was.

Simple.

Direct.

Completely unreasonable.

"No."

"No?"

"No."

Lucien folded his arms.

"I refuse to accept responsibility for events that occurred before the universe existed."

"A fair position."

"Thank you."

"Unfortunately, reality has declined to acknowledge your objection."

That sounded about right.

"Explain."

The old man sighed.

"Do you know why you've lived nine lives?"

"Because the universe dislikes me?"

"While technically correct, no."

Lucien waited.

"For reasons neither of us fully understand, your soul refuses to die."

That...

Was not the answer he'd expected.

"What?"

"The first time you died, reality rejected it."

The stars above them shifted.

"The second time, death itself attempted to claim you."

"And?"

"It apologized."

Lucien stared at him.

"You're lying."

"I wish I was."

That was somehow worse.

"By the ninth time, the universe had developed something of a reputation for simply giving up whenever you were involved."

That felt vaguely insulting.

Before Lucien could respond, movement in the eastern hall caught his attention.

Seraphina had taken another step toward him.

Her expression had not changed.

It remained a complicated mixture of emotions he couldn't begin to understand.

"You really don't remember."

It wasn't a question.

"No."

The answer came more quickly than he intended.

Something flashed across her face.

Disappointment.

"I see."

Interesting.

That expression bothered him.

He decided he didn't particularly care for that.

Dangerous.

The Last Witness noticed immediately.

"Oh, don't start."

"Start what?"

"Developing emotional attachments."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course not."

The old man smiled into his tea.

"You never do."

Lucien chose to ignore him.

A strategy that had proven largely ineffective thus far.

"Lady Seraphina," Cassian said carefully, "perhaps we should continue this discussion another time."

"No."

The word was soft.

Yet somehow, the entire room fell silent.

Seraphina continued staring at Lucien.

"Tell me."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Tell you what?"

"What was the last thing you dreamed about?"

The question struck him with unexpected force.

"A dragon."

Her expression didn't change.

"And before that?"

Lucien hesitated.

"...A woman standing beneath a clock tower."

For the first time, Seraphina's composure cracked.

"Impossible."

Interesting.

Apparently, that had been the correct answer.

"Who are you?"

The question escaped before he could stop it.

Silence filled the room.

Then—

"Someone who waited."

The words were barely above a whisper.

Lucien felt something in his chest tighten.

Again.

Dangerous.

Very dangerous.

Fortunately, the universe chose that moment to intervene.

The ground shook.

Once.

Twice.

Then a third time.

Every window in the manor shattered simultaneously.

The pressure that descended upon House Arkanis was unlike anything Lucien had ever experienced.

Ancient.

Immense.

Hungry.

The Dragon Bloodline within him stirred violently.

Somewhere beyond the western mountains...

Something had awakened.

"Impossible," the elderly mage whispered.

"What is it?" Cassian demanded.

She looked pale.

"There are only three beings in this world capable of producing this level of pressure."

Lucien already knew the answer.

He wasn't sure how.

He simply did.

"A dragon."

"No."

The woman's voice trembled.

"Worse."

The Last Witness slowly closed his eyes.

"Oh."

Lucien immediately disliked that tone.

"Oh?"

"There were four dragons."

"Yes."

"There are now five."

Silence.

"What?"

The old man pointed toward the window.

Lucien turned.

Far beyond the western horizon, something enormous had appeared above the mountains.

At first, he mistook it for a cloud.

Then it moved.

Wings.

Golden scales.

Eyes that burned brighter than stars.

It was impossible to judge its true size from this distance.

It blotted out the sky regardless.

And it was looking directly at him.

"No," the Last Witness whispered.

For the first time since meeting him, the old man's voice carried genuine disbelief.

"That's not possible."

"Care to explain?"

"Not particularly."

"Master."

Silence.

"Master."

The old man slowly lowered his teacup.

"Lucien."

"Yes?"

"Do you remember what I told you about dragons?"

"That they followed me to war."

"Correct."

Lucien waited.

"There was one exception."

Of course there was.

"There is always an exception."

"Indeed."

The Last Witness's expression grew complicated.

"It did not follow you."

"Why?"

"Because you ordered it not to."

That...

Was concerning.

"Who?"

The old man was silent for several seconds.

Then—

"The Dragon King."

The world seemed to stop.

"The what?"

"The first dragon."

No.

Absolutely not.

"There is a Dragon King."

"There was."

The distinction did not improve matters.

"It died."

Lucien relaxed slightly.

"Three times."

He stopped relaxing.

"That seems excessive."

"That was its opinion as well."

Outside, the enormous dragon released a roar that shook the heavens.

The Dragon Bloodline within Lucien answered instinctively.

Golden light erupted from his body.

And then—

A memory.

A battlefield of broken stars.

A dragon kneeling before a throne.

A voice.

«"Live."»

«"My King—"»

«"That is an order."»

«"Then promise me one thing."»

«"What?"»

«"When you return...find me."»

The memory ended.

Lucien staggered backward.

The dragon in the distance had lowered its head.

It was bowing.

Not to House Arkanis.

Not to the kingdom.

To him.

The Last Witness closed his eyes.

"Well."

Lucien was beginning to hate that word.

"Well?"

"I believe your first problem has arrived."

"My first?"

"Oh, yes."

The old man pointed toward the Infinite Mindscape.

The chains around the black door had broken.

One of them.

Only one.

Yet through the narrow opening, Lucien could see a single golden eye staring back at him from the darkness.

And it was smiling.

Somewhere beyond the stars, reality itself shuddered.

Because for the first time in countless ages...

The Worldbreaker had been recognized.

And the universe remembered his name.