Ethan entered the lair of the Architect, keeping both his blades held high, tucking his wings low behind his back to squeeze through the small opening in the earth. The feeling of passing through the silver doorway was strange – it felt almost as though he were walking through a portal to another world. As soon as his feet tread the earth of the inner lair, he heard the doorway snap shut behind him.

  A precaution, his host explained. You are a man who tends to be followed.

  A careful old man, Ethan thought. I would expect nothing less.

  He crept through the dim, black hallway of the Architect’s home, his angel eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness. It was eerily similar to the tunnels of Sanctum, with the sole exception that it lacked the scent of fauna or any signs of organic life at all. The moss and lichen that clung to the ruins outside were totally absent here. Instead, there was only the thick, stale scent of something else that hung in the air – something Ethan was all too familiar with.

  Fire.

  As he traversed the tunnels, he was starting to put two and two together. Using Eyes of Raziel, he picked out the scorch marks that lined the tunnel system. The rock formations were no naturally occurring phenomena – they were blackened with soot left behind by what must have been a potent flame indeed.

  Claw marks announced themselves as he continued down the long dark hallway towards his host. They seemed random and distorted at first, but as he forged on, he saw that they began to get more and more intricate until, coming to the midsection of the cave system, he saw that they had etched some images into the walls of the cave itself – images of children engaged in play or what could be song, their arms raised, happy faces stretched across their scaled features.

  And before them all were the first creatures of Argwyll – the dragons of Karfanng.

  Ethan touched one such image and felt his mind react. These images were known to Lamphrey. As he drew his hand along them, her memories resurfaced. He saw exactly what she’d shown him in Haylock’s grim castle: Tialax worshipping ancient dragons across a vast wasteland of ash and flame.

  And he felt a strange sense of familiarity – perhaps even kinship – with the image of the dragons he touched as he went on his way.

  The etchings became more and more elaborate as he forged on down the tunnel. The dragons seemed to have been etched with more expressive features, but the further he got, the more fury and sorrow he felt as he palmed them. Near the end of the tunnel the dragon images had been crossed out one by one by a set of vicious claws. It was as though someone was counting the deaths of their brethren.

  And when Ethan finally came to the cavern at the heart of the tunnel system, he saw just how right he was.

  The central cavern was just as wide as Sanctum’s inner city’s – only it was far emptier. Here and there the trickles of moisture dripping from a legion of stalagmites provided the only sounds for miles. Even with the eyes of a Lightborn, Ethan could barely penetrate into the consuming darkness of this part of the cave. It was like a void had opened up and swallowed him as soon as he’d crossed the perimeter.

  Then: movement.

  He sensed a vibration rumbling through the innards of the earth – something with a bulk so massive that the whole cave shook. Something that had been slumbering at the very end of the cavern and which, judging by the massive set of amber eyes that had just flashed open in the dark, had just awoken.

  So this is the newest Archon, the voice trickled in Ethan’s ears. The one they call the Last.

  Ethan wished Sys could be seeing this. But he was still on his own in this creature’s domain. And he wasn’t about to waste this chance by waiting for Garm’s Skill silencing to abate. He’d wasted enough time already.

  So, he sheathed both his blades and stepped forward, unafraid.

  “You have the advantage on me,” he said. “You know my name and, it seems, my reputation. But of you I know nothing. If we would speak as equals, I would bid you step into the light.”

  The creature seemed amused by this. The hoarse chuckle of its dark voice boomed no more in Ethan’s head, but throughout the whole cave itself.

  “Very well”, its voice croaked. “Witness what you have sought to find.”

  The great eyes came into focus, followed by a twisting neck that rose to the full height of the cave and yet still needed to bend to make sure it could fit. Behind it came a bulky mass of scales and claws – a great wyrm’s body coated in so much ash that Ethan saw sheets of it flake off the creature’s grey skin as it lumbered towards him. From its great maw of teeth came wisps of smoke, showing Ethan that it was still more than capable of turning any and all intruders into barbecued decorations for its lair.

  It’s great wings then rose, expelling the cobwebs that had lain thick upon them for what must have been many, many years. Then, standing before Ethan, it fixed him with its reptilian eyes.

  After all this time in Argwyll, he’d finally found one.

  He’d found a dragon.

  And not just any dragon at that – but the last dragon in the entire realm.

  “Now I understand why Remiel sought you out”, Ethan said. “With a creature as ancient as you on his side, he might have stood a chance against me.”

  The dragon issued a low growl.

  “Human hearts believe in such things,” it said. “The humans of Kaedmon contend that all creatures can be bought and made to follow their Path. But it is not so with my kind. It never was.”

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  The dragon’s eyes grew pensive, it fixed him with its old gaze and held him. Ethan knew then that this creature would be more than a match for him even in his fully-powered state.

  “I would know your name,” he asked it.

  The creature scoffed. “My name. My name is naught but a forgotten sound on dead winds. To invoke it means nothing any more. Take the name that I chose for myself and which struck fear into the hearts of Kaedmon’s peons. Look upon the Architect and then say why you have come here.”

  “The Architect,” Ethan grinned. “A name of making, not breaking.”

  “You are thinking this curious? More evidence of your human side, Archon. You see us as fire breathing predators meant to wipe civilizations clean off this earth. But in our time, we had the power to make, and unmake. I ask you now, Archon who calls himself Ethan, where does your power lie? With those you have stolen it from, or with your human mind?”

  Ethan replied without hesitation: “Power cannot be given or taken. It comes from the Self, or it does not come at all.”

  The dragon’s great brow rose.

  “You quote my own words to me,” it said. “Words carried by the first daughters of the flame.”

  Ethan understood now. Lamphrey had given him those words not as a mere teaching tool, but as a code. Was it her plan all along that he should eventually wind up here to meet with the Architect then?

  Because if that’s the case, you’re a mad genius, Lamphrey.

  He turned his attention back to the Architect.

  “I walked with one such daughter,” he said. “She was powerful but tempered by wisdom. Without her, I would not have made it this far. I would not have defeated the Lightborn Artorious and be this close now to breaking this world’s cycle.”

  “’Breaking the Cycle’,” the Architect huffed – and Ethan couldn’t tell if he was irritated or simply thought the notion was funny. “That is your folly – the folly of all your kind.”

  It turned away from him as if it was instantly bored.

  “You each arrive, burn like the brightest stars in the night, and then fall. One by one. On and on. I have watched your kind ever since the beginning. Since the first of your kind arrived wearing the form of my own. Most followed him, yes. Even the children. But those truly born of the flame could smell the human soul that lay within his breast.”

  Ethan’s eyes widened.

  “You’re talking about Karfangg?”

  The Architect turned back to him.

  “He was mightier than the mightiest, wiser than the wisest,” it croaked. “But the most ancient among us had seen what was to come before he had even been born. Many chose to fight with him against the inevitable. For he was strong in the ways of war, and strong in the ways of speech. But even he could not stand against the lord of light. His need to believe in his own infallibility was what brought his downfall.”is

  The eyes of the dragon narrowed. It brought its snout close to him.

  “But it is not so with you, Archon Ethan. You fear your own nature. I can smell it upon you.”

  Ethan did not recoil, though the dragon’s gaze was piercing. The creature was not looking at the eyes of the Lightborn angel. Now, it was staring into the crimson eye on the hem of his hat-form.

  “Yes,” it whispered – if such a beast could truly whisper. “You fear not what you are, but what you may become.”

  Ethan knew there was no point in nodding.

  “Yes,” he said. “I have seen the death of this world in fire, Architect. It is a fire with me at its head.”

  The Architect peeled back its maw to show Ethan all its rows of glittering fangs.

  “Then why should I not slay you now and be done with you?” it asked.

  “Because then your one chance of breaking the Cycle is gone. If I die now, it would begin anew. And you know it.”

  The dragon snorted, disbelieving.

  “Many have come before you,” it said. “Many have come believing they can best Him – the one who watches us all dance to his tune, upon this merry little stage called Argwyll. They have all believed in their righteousness until the moment of their downfall – for that is his shrewdness. He is a Master who enjoys granting his subjects the idea of freedom, so that when it is taken from them, their pain ripples across space and time. He took mine from me, Archon," the creature added, huge nostrils flaring with fury. "You think I wish to remain in this underground cavern of my own free will? Keadmon could not destroy me. And your precious Jun'Ei did not wish to claim me. So the God placed a lock upon me - binding me to this dismal little hole where I was born. And where I shall remain till this world finally crumbles and is scattered into the cosmic dust of the universe."

  “I can destroy him, and I can free you,” Ethan said emphatically – letting his emotions rise ever so slightly more than he’d intended. “He’s vulnerable. I know how to reach him. The only reason I haven’t is because I cannot be certain what will come after.”

  The Architect slunk back to the shadows, disappearing into the void that had been its home for centuries.

  “You do not wish for my help to battle him, do you?” it asked from the dark. "Instead, you seek my help to still the darkness you see within yourself.”

  Ethan nodded. There was no better way to put it than that.

  “They call you the Architect,” he said. “Because you’re the only one in all of Argwyll who has a certain Skills that not even Keadmon could bestow. That’s why He locked you away. That's why Remiel feared you even just as much as me. Because he believed that if both of us ever met, there would be no greater force in this world.”

  The Architect grunted from within the void.

  “It seems you know my reputation as well,” it said. “But you have not seen what I have seen, Archon. I have watched this world burn plenty of times already. And through it all, I have remained.”

  “Not this time,” Ethan stated. “This time, the fire will consume even this valley and your home – and the protections you have here will not be enough. What is coming is not a renewal of the Cycle, Architect. It is the End.”

  Suddenly the creature stirred. Its eyes opened and fixed Ethan, stilling his blood as they pierced into his being.

  “The end of the Cycle and the eradication of all life,” the creature growled. “Is that truly the price that must be paid for peace?”

  This question seemed to be rhetorical in nature. But Ethan still answered it:

  “Perhaps it doesn’t have to be,” he said. “That is why I have come here.”

  The dragon sniffed, licking its ashen lips with a grey tongue.

  “I know what you want,” the dragon growled. “You want the Skills that are mine and mine alone. Which of them takes your fancy, Archon? My ability to raise the dead? That is a coveted Skill, indeed. Perhaps my complete Skill Transference? Or perhaps there are others that you have come here seeking. No matter. Many have come seeking them before you. None have obtained them by coercion or by force.”

  “I haven’t come to take it from you,” Ethan said. “I’ve come to ask if you’ll listen to me. That’s all. And then you can decide if you’ve finally met an Archon who can be trusted with the secrets you hold in your heart. I've come...I've come to make a deal with you.”

  “Bold,” the Architect harrumphed. “For a human…”

  But there was a glitter in its eyes. Perhaps, as Ethan had calculated, it had the same impulse towards greed that most dragons had that he’d read about. Only this one valued knowledge and stories – not gold.

  Or maybe the great wyrm just wanted to toy with him before it burned him to cinders. You never could tell on Argwyll.

  “Very well, Archon,” it finally said. “Tell me of the things you have seen. Tell me what it is you wish – the deal you would broker with an ancient to rid Agwyll of the Cycle’s tyranny. Once you have done so, then we shall see what is to be done with you.”

  Ethan took a breath. After all this time, the ability to finally give voice to his plan had come. It would have been thrilling to him at one point in his life. But standing before this dragon, seeing the things he’d seen in the mists of the future, his only thought was of how peaceful it would be once this was all over.

  And if what he’d seen of the future was true, there was only one way his tale could end.

  “Alright,” he said. “Here’s what I propose…”