"Here, let me help."

"No need," Fior pushed aside Ssirel’s hand and refused his help. "Accepting your help is like making a deal with the devil. I am not that daring."

Ssirel shrugged, willing to back off and not offer assistance. He was pleased his offer was rejected because working wasn’t exactly his favourite hobby.

"Additionally, unlike the devil... you don’t always keep your end of the bargain. Selfish serpent!" He rumbled.

Fior paced back and forth, crafting and perfecting the array for the umpteenth time. He corrected the mistakes he’d made before and crossed his fingers that the array works and breaks the illusion.

Stepping back, he activated the array. The array activated. It lit up in bright blue light and shot out in every direction.

Unlike his previous attempts, the array formed cracks in the illusion. Fior could catch a glimpse of the mirror in the sky past the parted clouds.

He breathed a sigh of relief and prepared to attack the mirror when the array burnt out. The cracks in the illusion fixed themselves up instantly, and once again, he was back where he started.

Ssirel watched from the side. He found amusement in watching Fior’s hard work crumble to dust each time.

’I’m sure Sseraphis must be toying with him intentionally,’ he thought but said nothing to the arrogant fellow.

Fior’s face fell. He panicked. His heart beating chaotically with worry.

For every minute that he was stuck there, it was every minute that Nytherael was trapped as well. His mission was to get Nytherael out and keep him safe, but he was failing badly at it.

His eyes reflected the image of a frustrated warrior. His vermillion overcoat matched the colour of his angry face.

He picked up his spirits and decided to try again. However, as he was about to pick up the array stones and rearrange them, they suddenly caught fire.

A divine flame so intense that it burnt the array stones and reduced them to ashes in a matter of seconds.

"What’s the plan now?" Ssirel asked, intrigued by the plot twist and curious to see how the dragon warrior plays out his misfortune.

"Don’t you have errands to run for your brother?" Fior snapped, irritated at Ssirel, Sseraphis, the illusion and the fact that he was failing badly at the one job his master left for him.

"If my performance at tasks were as terrible as yours... Sseraphis would have discarded me long ago," Ssirel answered, poking at Fior’s fresh wounds.

Fior’s body stiffened, and his heartbeat reverberated in his ears. He felt the pinch of Ssirel rubbing salt in his wounds.

"My master isn’t as unreasonable as your brother."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, it is so."

"Do you truly believe Aeltharion to be a saint?"

Fior stopped, and snapped Ssirel, an annoyed glance. "Don’t badmouth the sovereign."

"Or what?" Ssirel asked, getting more and more amused.

"Sseraphis will cut off your tongue. You, of all people, should know how he gets when it comes to Aeltharion."

"Yes, yes," Ssirel shrugged and rolled his eyes. The argument wasn’t that deep for him. He has nothing against Aeltharion and couldn’t care about his brother’s obsessions unless they benefitted him. "You of people should also know how he gets when Nytherael is involved. He won’t let you free him."

"..."

Fior knew. He’d been there from the start and witnessed everything first hand. He understood Sseraphis’ anger. In fact, if it were up to him, he’d do worse to Nytherael, but his feelings were personal, and his job was a different matter.

Saving Nythereal was him fulfilling his professional duty. One he swore to Aeltharion, and he always keeps his promises.

"And I hope you are not foolish enough to try and rescue Nythereal by going through my brother?"

"..."

Again, Fior was speechless. His eyes shone like a group of stars, radiating with his determination. His duty took priority, so even if he had to take the risk of fighting Sseraphis, he was willing.

Ssirel read the look in his eyes and frowned. "What is so special about Nytherael that you are willing to look death in the eyes, for him?" He asked, standing in front of Fior.

"He’s not special. The sovereign is."

"And Nytherael betrayed him. If you ask me, you should leave him here to rot."

"I didn’t ask you," Fior let out, veering around him and moving forward, determined to find another way out.

"Wait."

Fior kept walking. He left without waiting for a second more. He couldn’t afford to waste time.

Ssirel caught up to him in eight large strides. He grabbed Fior’s hand.

"Let go," Fior drew his hand back.

"Stay still," Ssirel said. He held his hand again and released his essence in the air before snapping his finger.

The illusion turned upside down, and they fell from the sky. Luckily, Ssirel expected it and stabilised them softly on the ground.

"Where have you brought me?"

"I am not sure."

"You are not sure? You are not sure?" Fior repeated the question. He felt like tearing open Ssirel’s head to find out what the devilish snake used for brains. "If you aren’t sure, then who is?"

"Sseraphis and maybe Jura. They created the illusion, and they know how to get around better than I do."

Fior narrowed his eyes. He knew Sseraphis and had pieced together that the male was behind the trap, but he had no clue who Jura was and what his role in helping Sseraphis was.

"Who’s Jura?"

Ssirel shrugged. "He helped create this illusion."

Fior massaged the bridge of his nose. Especially the part between his eyes and held back his building frustration. "You’ve said that already. And I didn’t ask what he helped do. I asked you who he is."

"I know,"Ssirel admitted. His signature smile that was half-light and half-dark bloomed on his lips,further infuriating Fior more than the dragon warrior already was. "I’m taking the fun out of messing with you."

"..."

"Your face is adorable to look at when you are angry... just like a pufferfish." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Fior was about to launch a full-on argument with him when the sound of approaching footsteps distracted him.

"Who are you?"

He and Ssirel turned around and glanced at the newcomer. None of them responded to the question.

"Tivnir, who is it?" Yiwa appeared behind Tivnir. His eyes went wide and near jumped out of their sockets as he spotted both Fior and Ssirel there, recognition dawning on him from his knowledge of them during the time he worked for all three masters, Nytherael, Sseraphis and Aeltharion.

He recognized Ssirel as Sseraphis crazy twin brother whose speciality was finding amusement in other beastfolk’s misery. While next to him was Fior, the dragon general under Aeltharion’s command, a dragon who regarded duty above all and was loyal only to Aeltharion and Aeltharion’s wishes

"Master Ssirel, Lord Fior, I greet you," he lowered his head in respect to their title.

"Yiwa, fancy seeing you here," Ssirel said. He walked up to him and added, "If you could point me in Nytherael’s direction... then, I promise the heavens I will keep from hurting you."

Yiwa’s blood ran cold. Ssirel terrified him as he terrified most beastfolk who’ve met him and know of his horrifying reputation of bullying for amusement.

"You won’t touch him."

Fior spoke up. He came over and positioned himself between Yiwa and Ssirel.

"Do you think you can stop me?"

"No, I know I can’t. You serpents don’t fight fair or follow rules in a fight while us dragons are trained to do just that."

"Your point being."

"You’ll win by deceit and underhanded methods. I’d rather not fight you."

"Then why are you standing between us?"

"Because I know," he began with immense confidence. "You won’t be able to get through me to hurt him. Not because you can’t... you just won’t."

Ssirel smirked, "You are lucky I hate you more than I hate every beastfolk else!"

"Lucky me," Fior dramatically rolled his eyes.