"Stupid mortal!" cried one of the greater demons. A lesser prince, perhaps Lord of the Second Hell? "We are free here at last, with no strictures to bind us! Tremble and die!"

It threw itself at me. I brushed it away. I longed to swat it to the ground like an annoying wasp, crush it, hear it scream ...

T give you all one final warning," I said, my voice shaking with the effort of restraint. "If you stay here, I give you my word, by the Lady's grace, I will destroy every living soul among you. Go now. I cannot hold back forever."

"We fear no mortal!" came a chorus of voices. "This world is ours, we are come to kill and then to rule!"

That was it. I cared no more that I might do a great wrong. I knew only that I was all that stood between the demons and the death of the world of men. Not much of a decision.

I let go. Of everything. All restraint, all self-control, burned away like straw as I became the flame that raged within me.

I struck out at the princes first. They were dust and ashes in that first moment. Then I began with the ones that harried the Kantri. I burned them in swathes, like scything a field, brushing them off the fallen Kantri like flies. They died in their tens, in their hundreds, and it was good.

No. I lie.

It was wonderful.

It was better than cool water in the desert. It was better than sleep to the exhausted. It was better than food to one dying of hunger, better than sex, better than the dawn—my body, my mind, my heart and soul, all working together seamlessly, all using the vast power that had been forced into hiding all my life, finally set free.

I have never known such incredible, transcendent joy.

I killed hundreds. Thousands. I was not banishing them back to their place in the Hells. No. It was the True Death. 1 was the True Death.

I laughed as I beheld my dream come true.

Eventually they realised what was happening and many fled back to the Hells. They were the clever ones. I would pursue them later. For now, I slaughtered those that were stupid enough not to run away. I laughed again as I slew them, I rejoiced in their deaths. I was Death, and it was good.

I wake as from sleep, find myself on the ground, leap aloft and try to fly away. The Demonlord has forced me into darkness. I have no idea what has happened since he and his servants declared war on the world—except that the world seems still to be here, the Demonlord is gone and the demons are dying in droves. I am now in sole possession of this body.

I wonder if there is any chance of me getting my old one back? Especially since I don't know how long this one is going to last without demon-strength to support it. Already it begins to cool, to stiffen, around the edges.

Death soon, then. Real death this time. Release at last.

I shall fly into the mountains. They do look beautiful, so welcoming, so calm. There aren't very many of those big dragons around to stop me, either—except for that damned silver one. Again!

I flap harder, trying desperately to get away.

I threw the horrible thing from me. It burst into searing flame the instant it left my hand, and was dust before it could fall to the ground. My hand was scorched. It was a small price to pay.

I looked around. Vilkas was yelling something, briefly, but I think the demons proved how stupid they were and defied him. In any case, they weren't bothering us anymore. I think they were too busy dying.

And the Black Dragon, still alive somehow, was flying away. Akor flew in pursuit of the creature, but I did not fear for him.

Goddess. It was over.

By all the Hells, my poor battered heart ached as if its pain would never cease.

He was a dragon again. My love. My husband. The father of my children.

A detached part of my mind watched his graceful flight. He was a glorious creature, gleaming silver in the late afternoon sun—how had it come to be so late?—and he seemed to be borne aloft like a leaf in a breeze. He was so huge. Shikrar's size. Akor would have grown that large in the fullness of time, as one of the Kantri, but not for hundreds of years yet. He was—he was—

I ignored the rage, ignored the despair that pressed against my heart. Ignored my lonely future, though a scurrying thought danced past the vision of that vast dragon faced with children half the length of one of his talons. He was himself always, no matter his form. Varien kadreshi na-Lanen. My beloved. With a strength that came from I knew not where, I drew myself up and began to sing. Aloud.

I sang—very badly—the wordless song of love that we had made between us on the Dragon Isle. I sang to remind him, to remind me, of that love that does not change save to grow deeper and stronger with the passing of the years, no matter what else might happen. I let the music echo in my mind as weil, and felt it when the bond of truespeech locked between us. The song had changed yet again and was awash with sorrow, but it held the truth of love as well.

Akor managed to get in front of the Black Dragon and turn it, or the Winds were blowing it back in this direction. When he turned to me, I realised Akor was singing too. He joined me in the song of our making, adding to it the Tale of Lanen and Akor that he had composed for our wedding as my bride-gift. As I watched, those of both houses of the Kantri who still could fly joined him in the air, melding their voices with his, weaving harmonies around and about the song. It grew wilder, deeper, higher, until there was a sudden shift—from one moment to the next it changed, from a wild symphony built around a story of two lovers into the pain and truth and deep joy of love itself, and the sheer power of the music thrust me to my knees.

The music took on a life of its own then. There were yet echoes of the Tale of Lanen and Akor but other voices wove a wondrous tapestry of sound about it now. I heard the jangling chords of the Lost, rattling against the music, until in a blazing chord they were resolved. Restored. And they joined in the vast sound, so many-layered it was hard to make out the melody— but—but it still wasn't right. Something was missing, some vital part of the tale untold.

The Black Dragon tried to escape the music, charging Akor time and again, but Akor floated light as a bird's feather and danced away from it on the air with barely the flick of a wingtip. They all moved with Akor, the Restored singing now their lives rediscovered, their suffering redeemed with the death of the De-monlord. It was wondrous, but it lacked something—something—

Away in the far distance a sound arose, so faint as to seem more like a memory. It came from the west, where the sun sank slowly towards the distant sea—for a moment, it almost seemed as though the Sun itself were adding his voice to the music. I squinted, trying to see around the edges of the blazing light. Was that a flock of crows flying swiftly towards us?—no, it must be eagles surely, moving so swiftly— Ah. No. Not eagles. Brighter than eagles, gleaming in the light, copper and steel and bronze and golden, their soulgems scattering light of ruby and emerald and sapphire as the sun caught them.

The Aialakantri. The Lesser Kindred.

They soared in, singing, joining the complex pattern of flight as though they were joining a dance; and the music grew, made full, made bright and sparkling with the higher voices of the smaller creatures.

Made whole.

I probably should have stopped singing, but I could not. They were now most truly my people as well. My voice could not be heard by any save Akor, but I sang with all the peoples of the Kantri in a wild rejoicing.

The Black Dragon was confused by the music, stiffening even as I watched, trying to find a thermal to rise upon, trying to find a way out—but the music grew and grew, until the very stones echoed with it, until the mountains joined in the song and the Kantri wove even the echoes into the full glory of that sound. My throat closed in the face of more beauty than I could bear. I fell silent as the great mass of dragons, all three Kindreds united, surrounded the Black Dragon in an ever-moving spiral. Their unearthly music, so full and triumphant, woven of voices silent for long ages of the world and voices new-come to life, danced until it came to a single chord, complex beyond imagining—and there it locked, shining, all but visible. I heard notes that not even the Kantri could possibly sing ringing in the air, right at the edge of hearing, and in the lowest range I finally heard the voice I knew to be Akor's adding the deepest note of all. I felt it through the soles of my feet, I felt my babes resonate to it in my belly, I felt it in my deepest heart. That chord shook the earth. That chord the creator sang when the world was brought into being replete with joy.