Rahmanegol shot disdain at Alghamior through every movement. His fiery stare outmatched that of the furnaces of creation, his muscles twitched and yearned to be unleashed. Despite what soared before him—the dissipating fog further strengthening the mongrel’s menacing appearence—Alghamior forced himself to maintain a scowl. Rahmanegol may have terror on his side, but Alghamior has grown tired of being threatened by it. Aslakahm won’t fall and serve such monstrosities without a true retaliation. As long as the title of king rests on Alghamior’s shoulders, the Lightstealers won’t enslave the kingdom. Such audacity must be pushed back against. Even if the tools with which to do so are evidently insufficient.

  “You sent your Lightstealers to deliver threats,” Alghamior said. “An ultimatum. That is what the Tribunal left for your kin? Threats and menace? A hunger for Materium’s majesty?”

  He scoffed. “I found it difficult to understand how the Error muttered foolishness when I faced him. But you? I seem to have entered a completely different reality.”

  “Enlighten me, light eater. You claim to want to solve this calamity and yet you only worsen our situation through acts of violence.”

  “At least I am taking action!” Rahmanegol lunged closer. “The ancient wisdom of creation, reduced to this.” He shook his head. “You brought demise upon us all from that Throne you are entranced by.”

  Alghamior’s eyes widened. “Your strength has deluded you into believing yourself capable of overcoming everything through brute force. Have you bothered yourself with considering how much I labored to find a solution? How much eternity I wasted to craft a resolution, only to be left disappointed?!”

  “Is existence supposed to believe you? The mightiest mind of the Materium, rendered incapable?”

  “Existence will cease to be, Rahmanegol! Your war upon us is merely furthering that. Open your despicable eyes to see what your actions have caused!”

  Rahmanegol cried, dashing for Alghamior. A series of strikes followed, the Lightstealer’s breaths a burning stench upon the Materium. Alghamior evaded them all, spun and swung his tail toward his face. His claw halted its advancement, then Rahmanegol smashed his own tail against him. Alghamior used his lower wings to shove himself away from danger.

  “My eyes see nothing but decay,” Rahmanegol said. “Have you ever considered us? What the Lightstealers will endure because of your demise?”

  “I consider everything, Rahmanegol. Even you.” Alghamior’s breathing worsened, pain pulsing through his chest as a result. The Chair can only do so much, after all. Starmakers have been blessed with them strictly to finalize their tasks. Only the Tribunal knows how it managed to replenish him so quickly and tremendously. “We agreed on the Error’s mission and you knew that he couldn’t be fully trusted. No Duality ever can.”

  “We underestimate the Dualities, Alghamior. They are… dangerously strong,” he said, eyes growing distant. “Khonameol could’ve succeeded if he knew what lives within him. We could’ve lended him a hint.”

  “Existence has led us that path before. Dualities are Errors. An unfathomable curse that can’t be allowed to fully discover itself. One test was proof enough of that.”

  “Why do you allow your fear to guide you?” Rahmanegol asked, gesturing. “They are creations, like us. A purpose must reside within their strengths.”

  Alghamior squinted. “They are nothing compared to us! We have specific tasks, Rahmanegol. Conception and Havoc. Birth and death. Creation and destruction. Dualities are uncontrolled chaos, capable of unleashing unforeseen calamities upon the Materium. Do you want the Jila to devour all? I won’t mock what the Tribunal created by granting them such opportunities.”

  Rahmanegol scowled. “The Tribunal is already sorrowful enough to gaze upon what creation has suffered with you as king.”

  “Spare me your words, light eater,” Alghamior snapped. “Our creators could’ve returned to help us. We are dying and they… show no remorse.”

  Alghamior soared for Rahmanegol, his faded side causing his wings to limp. Every breath he took felt burdensome, as if his body dreaded enduring any pressure. Hmph. Rahmanegol raised his claws, and the size of him made Alghamior reconsider his choice. How could the Tribunal create such a terrifying and disgusting sight and charge it with tending to new life? Rahmanegol’s limbs struck downward, yet Alghamior twisted out of their path and smacked his snout. He continued his attacks, yet Rahmanegol didn’t appear as stricken as Alghamior hoped. Wrath surged through his white lines, and an arm smashed Alghamior through the fog. Soaring away, he noticed Rahmanegol tracking him. Sounds of multiple skirmishes reached his ears, dragons cried and raged around Aslakahm and its border. At least he wasn’t alone in this struggle for death. Despite the reservations his councillors displayed when he proposed to them this final confrontation, they eventually agreed. If only a little forced. Lightstealers may try scarring majesty as much as they desire, but Alghamior is tired of hoping for another path. For the Tribunal to care. For the Error to uncover their location or disrupt the Lightstealers through its chaos. Inaction has cost him everything. Such an unfortunate turn of events.

  Rahmanegol flew alongside Alghamior, their gazes locked into a duel of their own. “You should’ve renounced your place, Alghamior! I won’t claim you if you stand down.”

  Alghamior spun, wings striking his rival. His tail coiled around Rahmanegol’s torso, squeezing him. Cries escaped through his snout, a sight that rendered him perplexed. Has he been able to actually wound the lord of Lightstealers so far? “My idleness bothered you and now that is precisely what you ask of me?”

  “Don’t make me do this,” Rahmanegol pleaded. “There is already enough of a burden upon me.”

  Alghamior screamed, swinging his limbs. Two strikes tore through Rahmanegol’s body, more cries erupting. “I won’t share my remaining existence with such traitorous mongrels!” he bellowed and struck Rahmanegol with his tail.

  Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

  The lord of Lightstealers vanished through the fog. A tremor seized Alghamior as he focused on calming his breaths. He was pushing his remaining essence to its limit. Downward, Aslakahm’s light thrust more of the fog aside. He sighted his Starmakers: many dissolved into nothingness while others were in the process of, others surrendered and awaited the inevitable rulership of the Lightstealers. A few bolder ones held Spears in arms, yet the Lightstealers seemed unbothered. Near the wrecked Wall, councillors were engaged in skirmishes of their own. Garkalon was smashed by one Lightstealer, half of his body in the process of vanishing, while two others chased after him through the Materium. Orequelon stood encircled by four Lightstealers, each mongrel taunting him into striking. A member of the grand Council, reduced to a mere toy. Furieon and Bauruluon were nowhere to be seen, yet Alghamior felt their essences had already been consumed by the Materium. This altercation is not one where victory dwells. Hope is a concept that was cast aside the moment Alghamior chose to confront the mongrel that is Rahmanegol.

  Figures of darkness flew in the corner of his eyes. Alghamior spun and noticed Lightstealers approaching, their white eyes spewing disgust. One of them he recognized and immediately frowned.

  “I was successful in the end,” the Lightstealer said. “I managed to get the mighty king to abandon his seat.”

  “If that is your definition of success, then the Materium will die in utter foolishness.”

  “Our lord will see that reality never comes to pass, king.”

  Alghamior snorted. He raised his trembling limbs, acknowledging them. “Then my decision was the correct one all along. That is comforting.”

  “Leave him be!” Rahmanegol interrupted.

  The bold Lightstealer lingered, his crinkling nose and tense limbs growing more agitated. Alghamior’s eyes descended into a slit, the tremor seizing them also. “Cease your arrogant taunts, Lightstealer. Majesty doesn’t waste eternity with fools.”

  Crying, the bold Lightstealer dashed forward, only for Rahmanegol to grip his tail and lurch him away. “Targhanion!” Rahmanegol said, both claws strangling his neck. The more their altercation continued, the more Rahmanegol struggled to control himself. The smaller Lightstealer fought to escape the grip. “I will personally imprison you for the remainder of your existence if you ever go against my word!”

  With reluctance, Rahmanegol inhaled deeply and shoved his disobeying dragon aside. Alghamior regarded the bold Lightstealer and shrugged. Eyes of burning hatred regarded him back, and eventually the Lightstealer begged for forgiveness and retreated, still watching them both.

  “Disorder is the order of your dragons,” Alghamior said. “How unsurprising.”

  “Arrogance is yours,” Rahmanegol snapped. “I offered you a chance. Survive and aid me to find a solution. Lend your worthless ears to me, king.” His wings extended, signaling that what will follow will put an end to their battle. At long last. “I will find the Tribunal. And I will ensure they hear about your treason upon existence.”

  Alghamior’s expression hardened. He once more acknowledged his faded arm, the paleness that claimed half of his body a terrible reminder of the actions of Havoc. Of the abandonment of the ancient Tribunal. “Fulfill your promises, Rahmanegol. This decaying reality shall rest upon your shoulders. You made that decision for us all.” He closed his faded arm. “Send my regards to our eternal parents. Tell them… I will never forgive their betrayal.”

  Rahmanegol cried and launched. Claws tore the Materium’s unseen body in their search for Alghamior. Rahmanegol’s eyes displayed reluctance, yet his body exploded in wrath. Each avoided strike consumed the already depleting resources within Alghamior, his breaths showcasing that through their heaviness. The mongrel finds utter enjoyment even in the most displeasing of battles. One claw shredded through his snout, another through his torso, then a tail smashed his right set of wings. As he soared through the Materium, Rahmanegol left Alghamior with no opportunities of retaliation, chasing and striking, straining his resources with new, more rageful attacks. Alghamior’s wings barely created distance between them as he tried dashing aside. His limbs were immediately thrust aside when his rival’s claws fell on them. Rahmanegol seized Alghamior’s neck and proceeded to puncture his body.

  “I needed you!” he said, claws entering and exiting Alghamior, pain shooting in each corner of his body. “And you rejected me. My own brother!”

  Rahmanegol tore through Alghamior’s torso as if the essence that created it didn’t exist. Each limb hurt worse than watching brethren fail in becoming stars. He tried lifting his arms, only to be smashed aside, the strikes showing no desire to ever halt. “You knew the outcome of this duel and you chose to confront me!” Rahmanegol continued. “You chose death instead of salvation, Alghamior!”

  “I… chose… to stand against the reality you will bring.”

  “For what?!”

  “For my own… kin.”

  Rahmanegol tilted away. His eyes widened and his snout half-opened, one claw still gripping Alghamior. “We should’ve never been separated,” Rahmanegol said. “If the Tribunal made one mistake… that is it. Another king would’ve brought a real solution!”

  Alghamior’s essence began to fade. A series of coughs made words impossible to emerge. He turned away from Rahmanegol, watching the Materium. Out in the distance, the last of the brightest of stars showed signs of distress. An explosion was imminent. A smile forced itself on his snout. Death won’t treat him harshly, it seems. A companion awaits the same outcome as him.

  Rahmanegol’s claws relaxed. He shifted his limbs to hold Alghamior, his gaze watching the same star. More Lightstealers approached, some of which garnered Alghamior’s slow gaze. Garkalon’s fading body sat in the arms of a light eater, while Orequelon was being subdued and hauled. A pity. He chose the more horrifying way of accepting demise. Orequelon’s trembling gaze flooded with tears, and Alghamior shifted his sight back on the star.

  “Keep the… Error subdued,” Alghamior whispered. “Don’t set him free. Do not lead us back there. That is… blasphemy of the highest order.”

  Rahmanegol whimpered, urging Alghamior to regard him. Tears escaped through the mongrel’s four eyes. “I need his skills.” He shook his head. “He deserves to be rescued. He fought to protect you.”

  Alghamior turned away. “Then do as you… wish. There is no further hope anyway. Eggs shall be left… purposeless.”

  “We should’ve never allowed our ancestors to influence our relationship, brother,” Rahmanegol said. “Conception and Havoc could’ve… co-existed.”

  “Regrets are unwelcomed. We… had our roles. Our destinies.”

  “Forgive me,” Rahmanegol whispered. “I… will do what it takes to repair us.”

  The star erupted, the fog no longer capable of withholding such spectacle of color and beauty. Warmness reached Alghamior’s face and visions of his birth and early eternity washed over him. Everything must eventually come to an end. Even wisdom. And, it seems, even the Materium.

  “I… will see you soon,” Alghamior whispered and shut his eyes eternally.