Elijah spread his wings and let out a rumbling roar that echoed throughout the Undercity. The sheer volume of it rustled his leaves and shook the surrounding buildings. If any of them had featured glass windows, they would have shattered under its rumbling volume.

  Fortunately, most of the rioters took one look at him and sprinted away.

  Could he have chased them down? Certainly. Even in his dragon form, he was more than capable of moving at speeds mortals couldn’t even track. And that’s what most of them were. Just mortal non-combatants who were fed up with their lot in life. If they’d channeled even a fraction of their anger into self-improvements, perhaps they could have climbed free of the Undercity.

  After all, it wasn’t as if anyone was keeping them there. They could leave whenever they wanted, and there was an entire world of opportunity out there. But in most cases, it was easier to complain than to take life by the horns and wrestle it into submission. If they left, they would have to try. And if they tried, they could fail. Most would rather mire themselves in pessimism and complaints than to confront the possibility of failure. Or the confirmation that they weren’t as special as they wanted to believe themselves to be.

  That there was a reason they were where they were.

  And it wasn’t just a lack of suitability or talent. It wasn’t a dearth of opportunities. Those factors existed. They certainly held people back. But attitude played as large of a role as anything else.

  Success was never guaranteed. Not even if they did everything right. But no one who wallowed in apathy and self-pity ever succeeded.

  Of course, the fact that they’d rioted – albeit after being manipulated into becoming a frothing mob – sort of put the lie to that assessment. So, maybe they had something going for them.

  In any case, they were at least smart enough to understand how outclassed they were. A few had tried to attack Elijah, but nothing they attempted had even scuffed his scales. And after making an example of a couple of them, they’d all fled. Some of the soldiers had run away too, come to that.

  When Elijah had first felt Desdemona’s domain wash over him, he’d been a little shocked. Most of that had come from having his Mantle of Authority forcefully pushed back, but that domain had also robbed him of a few attributes. Not enough to cripple, but more than enough to surprise.

  Technically, he hadn’t needed to take on his dragon form. He could have killed the woman as a humanoid. But his instincts screamed at him to make an example, to show people the cost that came with making him an enemy. And nothing was better for that endeavor than his dragon form.

  He hadn’t even needed to cast any spells. He’d overwhelmed everyone, including Desdemona, with the sheer weight of his physical presence.

  But now that his enemies were in full retreat, Elijah turned from the battle and settled his attention onto the repercussions of the attack. Many people had been injured, and there weren’t any Healers around. So, Elijah returned to the area in front of the warehouse and cast Blessing of the Grove.

  In his dragon form, it cost an incredible amount of ethera, but with that cost came vastly increased potency. And considering just how far above everyone he was, that meant that even Blessing of the Grove’s normally sedate effect became a rapid restorative capable of bringing some of the soldiers back from the brink of death.

  Unfortunately, Elijah couldn’t keep it up for long, so after casting that spell, he shifted back to his humanoid form. Doing so shocked the soldiers all around him, but he ignored their gasps of surprise and focused on more healing. Less than an hour later, when he’d countered most of the truly dangerous injuries, reinforcements arrived.

  And alongside them came another one of Isaiah’s drones.

  “Nice of you to show up,” Elijah said without even looking at the drone. “Where were you?”

  “Dealing with another attack,” Isaiah revealed via the drone. “That surge of ethera knocked me unconscious, and by the time I recovered, we were under siege. I believe they expected me to remain unconscious for longer.”

  “I’m guessing that was after I ate Desdemona.”

  “You…ate her?”

  “Well, I didn’t swallow. Bit her in half, though. She didn’t survive long after that,” Elijah admitted.

  It wasn’t the most sanitary way to kill someone, but it was more than effective. And it was more satisfying than he wanted to admit. His draconic instincts definitely approved of the method.

  Gunnar, who’d recovered soon after Elijah killed the leader of the Daughters of Deianira, approached. “What do we want to do with the captives?” he asked.

  Indeed, there were nearly a thousand women who’d collapsed the second Elijah had ended the fight with Desdemona. They’d been rounded up shortly after.

  “Public execution,” Isaiah said without hesitation.

  “No,” Elijah interjected.

  “What?”

  “I said no. These women were manipulated, the same as the rioters. Maybe they deserve imprisonment, but I won’t let you kill them.”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Let me?”

  “You heard what I said,” Elijah stated evenly. “You kill them, and I’ll do to you what I did to Desdemona. It didn’t seem like a good way to die.”

  “Need I remind you that this is my city?” Isaiah intoned.

  “Need I remind you that I don’t care? Your authority means less than nothing to me.”

  “I refuse – ”

  “I don’t care, Isaiah,” Elijah interrupted. “The only reason you’re in charge is because I don’t care enough to take the city from you. It’s the same with everywhere else. None of you can even begin to challenge me. For now, I need you to guard my trees. To run those Primal Realms. To help the planet avoid excisement. But the second you start working against me is the very moment you become more trouble than you’re worth. Do you understand that?”

  He remained silent, and Elijah could imagine him seething in his office on the surface.

  “I need you to answer the question, Isaiah. Are you going to make trouble for me?”

  “No,” was the terse response.

  “Good. Then so long as you don’t kill these people, I don’t care what you do with them,” Elijah said.

  It probably wasn’t a great idea to give Isaiah so much freedom. After all, there were punishments worse than execution. But Elijah had very little interest in involving himself in the minutiae – or the morality – of criminal justice.

  “Hard labor, then,” Isaiah responded.

  “Sounds like slavery,” Gunnar pointed out.

  “Is that true?” Elijah asked the drone.

  “Semantics. We have every right to require our prisoners to earn their keep. In that, they are no different than anyone else in the city.”

  “I’m sure all those topsiders earn their keep, huh?” Gunnar persisted. “I’ve been here for months. I’ve seen the excesses of the rich. I know just how different their lives are than down here. So don’t even try to pretend they earn their keep.”

  “Every person who lives on the surface does so for a reason.”

  “Money is the reason,” Gunnar countered. “Nothing else.”

  “The city can’t run without money,” argued Isaiah. “You think I don’t want to support everyone here? Do you think I don’t want to give them lives of luxury? Grow up, assassin. That’s not how this world works. It’s not how the world has ever worked. You get what you deserve. Nothing less.”

  “I think we both know that isn’t true.”

  “Enough,” Elijah cut in. “We’re not here to enact societal reform. I came here to deal with the person who tried to kill me. Now that’s done, I intend to leave.”

  “Stay for a couple of days. I still have some things we need to discuss,” Isaiah stated. Then, a second later, he added, “Please.”

  Elijah looked around. He still had a few days before his self-imposed deadline. After that, he would head down to the Hollow Depths and throw himself into the troll Primal Realm. Assuming Sadie and the others hadn’t returned by that point, which was looking less likely by the day.

  In any case, he had some time, and if meeting with Isaiah could help smooth out some of the rough edges of their relationship, Elijah was more than willing to give it a chance.

  So, he agreed to stick around.

  After that, Elijah helped with the aftermath of the battle. Mostly, he healed the few people he’d missed, but he soon found himself escorting the prisoners topside. The trip through the first level of the Undercity was eye-opening in that the atmosphere had completely changed.

  And rightly so. The riot was a clear attempt at insurrection, and the residents knew just how easily it could bring the authorities down on them. Most had retreated into their homes, but the few who braved the streets did so cloaked in fear.

  Via Soul of the Wild, Elijah could feel a few of the panicked rioters, though he chose to leave them be. His instincts told him to brutally put them down, but he chose a different course of action. Mercy was, after all, the prerogative of power. They couldn’t hurt him. Therefore, he had little reason to attack.

  But he wanted to.

  Because of that, he barely noticed the rest of his surroundings. Soon, they reached the elevator leading to the surface. Gunnar went with the first group of prisoners, which were also accompanied by plenty of soldiers. Elijah chose not to ascend until the last group made the trip.

  It was an awkward few minutes as the elevator slowly climbed to the surface. The prisoners, who’d finally regained their wits, tried to keep their distance. Even if they had been unconscious for the latter part of the battle, they could still feel his power. They knew what he was, at least on a subconscious level, and he terrified them.

  For his part, Elijah did his best to ignore that.

  He also chose not to acknowledge their identities. They were prisoners. It would be years before they regained their freedom. Maybe decades, if Isaiah was particularly vengeful. In short, they were doomed.

  A sad state of affairs, considering how young some of them were. Barely more than girls. And Elijah could sense that most of them had lived very difficult lives. He didn’t know the details, of course, but it didn’t take a genius to imagine the sorts of horrors women, in particular, might be forced to endure when law and order fell by the wayside.

  After a few minutes, they reached the surface, where Elijah saw the true might of Seattle’s military. There were hundreds of soldiers there, each one armed with powerful rifles and clad in high-quality body armor. Many had reached ascendency, but only a few had managed to progress far into that tier.

  In any case, it was a respectable show of force, and given the city’s population, it hinted at Seattle’s martial capabilities. It wasn’t on par with a force like the Third Army, but it was clear that they could definitely hold their own.

  Elijah noticed the anomaly only by chance.

  If he hadn’t been taking stock of Seattle’s military strength, he would have never done so. Yet, the second his attention settled on the man in the corner, he knew that something was very, very wrong.

  Elijah locked eyes with the man, noting his dark coat, angular features, and the slightly tapered ears concealed beneath a stocking cap. An elf.

  Specifically, a war elf, given the gray complexion beneath a coat of makeup. And judging by Soul of the Wild, not a weak one, either.

  The elf grinned.

  “For the First Army!” the elf yelled.

  Then, before Elijah could even shout for everyone to take cover, the man exploded. The last thing he saw before the elf was consumed by blue flames was a sinister grin. Fire washed over him, enveloping his body. However, it didn’t char his skin. Instead, it burned through his mind, turning his instincts against him.

  For a brief second, he felt a deep sense of arrogant rage, but it disappeared only a second later. Before it fell away – probably due to the Antlers of the Wild Revenant – Elijah began his transformation back into his dragon form.

  And when the fires faded, the elf had disappeared. More distressingly, Elijah could feel the rage enveloping everyone in the building. Soldiers raised their weapons, pointing them at their comrades.

  Elijah didn’t hesitate.

  Even as his body transformed, he slammed as much ethera into his Mantle of Authority as he could. The boughs of his soul spread out, further than ever before, countering the enraging fire.

  Soldiers blinked in confusion, lowering their weapons.

  Panting, Gunnar asked, “What was that?”

  Even as he asked the question, explosions erupted outside.

  “Another attack,” Elijah said in his draconic voice. “Maybe part of Desdemona’s plan. I don’t know. Might just be opportunism. But that was a war elf.”

  “I thought you killed them all.”

  “That was the Third Army. Implying that there are at least two others.”

  “Shit,” came Isaiah’s voice from the drone, the swear word evidence enough of his distress.

  “Yeah.”

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