The riot of colors died down as the swirling food processor in my head had finally stopped its maddening rotation. Bony idiot, the killer of the immortals—trust him to scorch my brains and pretend he wasn't even there.

"Say it again."

"You bastard dragon-"

"No! Not that. What was it you said?"

I squeezed one eye shut in anticipation of a new bell toll. "I can restore the First Temple," I blurted out, shrinking, waiting for a new Bang! It didn't come, phew. My new dragon friend had somehow restrained his primary instincts.

"Go on."

An inkling of an idea scratched the surface of my mind and I caught it just in time. "Eh, Sir Dragon-"

"I'm Tianlong, you moron! Long for friends."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Laith. Max for friends." I just hoped that our exchanging names meant more to him than the proverbial 'Pudding—Alice; Alice—Pudding'. "So, Mister Long. I heard that the First Temple had been destroyed five hundred years ago by the forces of the Alliance of Light."

The Dragon snickered. "It's easy to claim someone else's glory when the true owners ain't home. Not five hundred, even: almost eight hundred years ago. If you do a bit of digging, you can still find the invaders' steel bodies buried in our sands and moors. I've done my fair share of crushing and grinding, I tell you. Again you've got me sidetracked! Now, the Temple! Speak up!"

I nodded, deciding not to annoy this mighty creature any more than necessary. Instead, I didn't spare any lipstick to dress up the pig of my imagination.

"Thing is, I can restore the First Temple. The moment the creatures of Light learn about it, they'll be quaking at the knees, desperate to destroy it. First it'll be lone scouts, followed by small groups, then by raids until one day they might bring in an entire army. And you get to meet them all! Think of all the energy—kilotons, no, megatons of mana! Shortening the time of your languishing here to mere centuries!"

I stopped to check the effect my words had produced. Long didn't say anything.

"So can I go now?" I ventured.

"Wait. War is never bad. But my strength is limited at the moment. I might not have enough. Besides, once my true nature becomes known, the armies of both Light and the Dark will beat a path to my door. The Temple! Potentially, it's a wealth of energy. I will let you go now and I will close the opening. In return, you must redirect one tenth of the altar's mana flow to me. Deal?"

"Agreed," I shrugged. "If the altar allows me to do it, you'll get one tenth of all mana it generates."

Softly a gong rang, sealing the deal. A whirling sign flashed before my eyes and disintegrated in a cloud of dust: the picture of a curled red dragon.

"What was that?"

"Just another mark for your collection," the dragon chuckled. "This way it'll be easier for me to control your whereabouts and your contractual obligations. It can help you, too, if it comes to a big scrap. Now go. The creatures of the valley will leave you alone."

The skull's occipital bone screeched, jolting to one side, blinding my eyes with sunshine. Rare were those who entered this place; those who exited it must had been rarer still.

"Good luck to you, Tianlong!"

"You too, micro sentient one. A fly diving into a pot of honey will need a bit of luck."

How's that for dampening one's enthusiasm? Never mind. Not the first time. I stepped toward the exit.

Damn! I collapsed, tripping over a piece of old iron junk buried in a century-deep layer of fine sand. As I scrambled back to my feet and brushed the sand off my clothes, I peered around in search of the treacherous obstacle.

I saw it and froze.

"It's dead iron," Tianlong commented. "It must have stuck in my teeth when I munched on the steel invaders and their servants."

It sure looked as if he'd been munching on some tanks and airplanes, I thought, brushing the sand off a rather rusty and chewed-up tommy gun. A man of my generation couldn't mistake it for anything else. This model was unfamiliar, its strange proportions betraying its alien origin. Its pistol grip was strangely long, designed either for a very large or a seven-digit hand. To get a comfortable grip of the stock, the shooter's arms must have been at least half as long again as mine. Besides, the weight of the thing was more like a company machine gun. The cartridges, strangely green with silver-and-purple bullets, snuggled inside a small spring-assisted chamber. Well, well, well.

"May I?" I asked hopefully, already knowing I wouldn't surrender the gun even if he tortured me.

"Help yourself," Long agreed, nonchalant. "Now hurry! I've already come up with a model for rebuilding both my spine structure and energy channels. All I need now is energy!"

Clasping the precious trophy to my chest, I finally walked out into the fresh air. Once the shield was lifted, my mana bar immediately began filling up while my PM box pinged incessantly with missed messages. Jesus. This cute little dragon didn't seem to even start to realize his own value in this world. His skeleton could make a perfect prison for the digitized. More dark secrets to keep! Then again, I wouldn't say no to borrowing one of his smallest bones to fashion a nice little coffin for somebody called Tavor. You squeeze the customer inside, fasten the lid and bury it, then go on drinking until you forget its coordinates.

And what if I tried Astral Mana Dispersal on him? I looked back at the skull, scared it could be reading my thoughts. But the skeleton, polished by both wind and time, remained silent, deep in his dreams and calculations. He probably missed flying. Dragons had to be a bit like birds: without the sky, they would pine away.

I shoved the gun down my bag for future reference and opened my private messages. Zena was spamming me, anxious to find out how I'd done it and furious because the moment she'd ventured after me, she'd been peppered with arrows until she resembled a porcupine. Women and their curiosity!

I had to play the man of mystery, explaining it away with some class quests and my personal charisma. Zena didn't sound convinced, too desperate to get to some new unexplored lands. I felt uneasy. Trust that little fool to walk right into a dragon's den—literally. That could complicate everything. So I warned her against trying to ram her way through the skull where she'd be stuck, spread-eagled, in one of the numerous clever traps while her teammates stormed the castle trying to get to her shriveling frame.

I closed the chat windows. Finally I could have a good look around. The inner court of the fortress had been marked with the imprint of the dragon's enormous wing bones. If you looked at it from above, you could see clearly the position the dragon had been lying in when his heart had ceased beating.

The undead stopped ambling around and began gravitating toward me, even though they didn't dare overstep some invisible line that only they could see. They would come close and stop dead in their tracks, their empty eye sockets staring at me. Should I summon my zombie to keep them company? Having said that, I'd rather not. I could be the proud mark-bearer thanks to my secret supporters, but I couldn't predict the local skeletons and Liches' reaction to my humble pet.

I walked through their ranks, expecting the strong stench of dead flesh, but time must have picked their bones clean of meat, so they didn't smell at all. I kept going until I'd left the piles of bones behind me. Here the canyon split, revealing a rather green valley specked with wild flowers. Whatever monster inhabited it apparently didn't lay claim to the green bit. I glanced at the white expanse of the map which was rapidly filling with schematic hills, brooks and other special signs.