Uras'Diptsur had risen to his feet after witnessing what transpired. He could not hide his discomfort. The creature had moved as swiftly as the blink of an eye; in an instant, the nearby soldiers had been flung aside as though they were nothing.
The woman who had appeared was the priestess. "So she is alive," he thought—he had believed the attack on the eastern obelisk had killed her.
The pharaoh glanced at the surviving soldiers as they struggled to their feet. Some came running from the southern path behind him. One halted, panting:
"My lord, the fire has spread to several houses. We struggled to contain it. We have never seen anything like it—a gray flame."
"Surround the area with as much sand as you can muster and prevent it from reaching the main city," Uras ordered. "I fear only time will extinguish that fire."
The soldier nodded. Another added:
"The destruction of the obelisk did not ignite flames." Uras felt a measure of relief; fortunately, only the more common districts had been affected.
"It was far better than in my dreams. My Lord of the Sun is with us. Do as I commanded."
"Has the dragon been defeated, my lord?" one of them asked.
"No. Tell everyone to remain in the shelters. Warn the nearby cities to prepare themselves. If we fall, they may be next."
"Majesty, come with us—we cannot lose you. You are the son of God, hide until the creature departs," the first pleaded.
"It is fine. If I were meant to die today, it would have already happened. Now go!" The men departed, though a few high-ranking guards remained to protect their majesty—the ones who always shadowed him. Uras gazed up the stairway toward the temple entrance, wondering what had happened inside—how that woman had calmed the creature.
"Is it possible that even monsters from another world cannot resist women?" The thought struck him as both terrifying and absurdly comical. He needed to go there, to see what was unfolding within the temple. Uras needed to know.
"Go to the shelter, Majesty. You have already done enough for an old man," a deep voice sounded behind him. He turned and recognized the tall elf with fine black hair and crimson eyes—imposing in stature and clad in a fitted tunic. The man held the black sword.
"Setarek was unable to wield it, was he not?" he asked. Behind him stood four other elves with bound brown hair, and Ishara, still hooded.
"Thswoner." (pronounced Tisouner). Uras'Diptsur spoke aloud, somewhat surprised by his presence. He recalled the moment his son had dropped the blade—when the creature had broken his arm during the attack.
"It is a fine sword, worthy of its legend." The elf traced a finger along the blade as the strong wind whipped his greenish-sand-colored tunic. "But… allow me to ask. Did you truly believe a human could slay a being of chaos?" The elf smiled. Uras frowned.
"You do not understand—he—"
"I know. I saw." The elven general raised his dark brows. "I noticed the creature's change." He pointed the blade toward the pharaoh; the soldiers tensed and raised their guards.
"You erred in what you did," he added, narrowing his eyes accusingly. The pharaoh did not take kindly to the insult and responded gravely:
"Would it have been wiser, then, to let him destroy every city until he reached here?"
"He would never have gone that far—we would have dealt with him. My king had already planned—"
"And by then, much of my people would have perished while the elves futilely chased the glory of their past." A direct strike at their pride. They glared at each other fiercely. The elf advanced toward the pharaoh, who stood tall and unflinching—he had faced a dragon in person not long ago. An elf did not frighten him.
"You meddled with what you do not understand," Thswoner said, halting atop a cracked stone from the crater.
"Are you speaking of the summoning Neftraya performed for the creature?"
"Precisely." The elf swung the sword lightly through the air. "Connecting with beings of chaos is strictly forbidden." Uras sighed. The impact site still radiated unnatural heat.
"It was the only way," the pharaoh argued, his dark features hardening with resolve. "When Neftraya called upon me and said she could do this, I agreed it was the sole means to save the kingdom from total destruction."
"And you truly believe she summoned the dragon to the capital because she thought you would have any chance?" the elf asked sarcastically.
"We had the sword. And she assumed she could stun the creature. We had the red-iron arrows, as the legend foretold. We evacuated the population to safety and—"
"And he fell and transformed into a human." The elf cut straight to the point. The four other elves scanned the ruined area. Young Ishara remained silent at her father's side.
"I do not know how she accomplished it—whether it was intentional or not," the pharaoh stated. "I have no reason to believe it was anyone but our God who granted the creature humanity and consciousness, giving us a chance." Uras spoke with unwavering faith. The elf fell silent for a moment, his black hair swaying in the wind.
"Even so, your son failed to strike true." The elven general regarded the sword. "Ishara told me what happened. Setarek hesitated. Had he advanced through the dust the moment the dragon fell, he would have seen the body sprawled, arms open—ready to be slain. And when my daughter tried to aid him—distracting the creature—the prince foolishly struck with the flat of the blade instead of the point…" He looked directly into Uras' eyes.
Upon hearing this, Uras'Diptsur's eyes widened in realization. The sword had worked—but only with its tip. The pharaoh ground his teeth; it had been a tremendous opportunity lost.
"That is why he evaded Setarek's second attempt, when the prince tried to catch him off-guard," the young elf finally spoke, her face nearly hidden beneath the black hood.
"But do not worry, pharaoh—I am here to resolve the problem you created," the high elf announced with a smile.
"What will you do?" Uras watched him stride toward the temple, the other elves following.
"I will kill the reborn dragon," he replied with unshakable confidence.