Forty-Eight: Up the Mountain!

Majestic Court didn’t keep Lilith waiting long. While she packed at the inn, a letter from Selnos landed in the Little White Dragon’s hands like a snowflake on a sleeve.

“What’s it say?” Lilith was stuffing fresh clothes into her tiny satchel. Nidhogg took the letter, slit the wax like a knife through ice, and read by lamplight.

“Mr. Joseph Selnos welcomes you. He’ll share all his knowledge, and offer the finest astrological instruments he can provide.” She set the page before Lilith, pale as moon-skin.

“Got it.” The White Dragon tucked the letter away like a warm secret, shouldered her satchel, and paused at the door, heart tight as a drawn bow. “Then as we said, the kids are on you.”

“I still think I should go up the mountain with you.” Nidhogg’s worry moved like a dark cloud. With Mio watching Litt and Abaddon, it wasn’t them she feared for—it was the one heading for Hirisade alone.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Trust me.” Lilith patted her soft little chest like a drum. “I’ve traveled alone for ages. Don’t think I forgot how to live just because I’ve clung to you lately!”

“But you left your star charts.” The Black Dragon pointed at the sheepskin sheets on the table, maps of the Star Canvas spread like pale leaves.

Lilith’s fair face flushed in a sudden bloom. She snatched the charts, crammed them into her bag in a flurry, and stammered, “Accident! Just an accident! Nothing happened!”

“Alright, alright.” Nidhogg sighed, the sound like wind through pines. She still didn’t trust Lilith to climb alone—not for safety, but for the disasters a silly gremlin could brew.

The Little White Dragon had made up her mind, though. Short of force, nothing would stop her, like a stream intent on the sea.

“I’ll go up in a few days to check on you.” After chewing on it, Nidhogg chose to let her go, yet set a plan like a pin in silk. She’d visit soon, and bring supplies.

“Mm-hmm, got it!” Lilith’s answer drifted, light as stardust. Her mind had already sailed toward unknown knowledge, toward the glittering Star Canvas beyond the window.

Back in her last world, she’d loved school’s first two-thirds—the daily rush of new ideas, like spring rain. The last third was pain—no new stars, only drills and dust.

So her Stellar Magic shone bright, while necromancy stayed a scuffed doorstep. Repetition dulled her, but the unknown tugged like a tide.

“Hey, I’ll at least walk you to the foot of the mountain.” Nidhogg knew the little dragon’s head was a hive of new truths and twinkling lights. Next to that, she had zero pull.

“Next time, I’ll carry you under the stars,” she muttered so softly even the dust couldn’t hear. “I’ll make sure every star reminds you of me.”

On her face, a gentle smile bloomed like morning. She took Lilith’s bag and headed out, steady as a black river.

A chill crawled Lilith’s back like a cold lizard. She shivered, wiped a bead of sweat, and glanced at Nidhogg with wary eyes.

Something’s off about this Black Dragon, she thought, like a sweet fruit hiding a thorn. She buried the doubt like a seed. Not now.

“I’ll leave you here, then.” At the summit of Mount Hirisade, before the astrology altar’s stone door, Nidhogg handed over the satchel like a ceremonial blade.

The Selnos Mountains were generally low. Even the highest, Hirisade, reached only half the Holy Mountain’s height, a hill under a giant’s knee.

Running to the top took about as long as visiting the Sea of Echo-Flowers, a journey measured in breath and birdsong.

Speaking of echo-flowers, Lilith had grilled the Black Dragon about what words were stored in the blossom she’d gifted. No matter how she pleaded, the Black Dragon wouldn’t say, cool as winter.

So the Little White Dragon stormed up the Holy Mountain, plucked her own echo-flower, and installed it in the inn like a tiny sentinel. Every night, the poor bloom dutifully played her pouty, “I hate you the most!”

The flower survived only four days. After three nights of “I hate you,” Nidhogg got fed up. She pinned Lilith to the bed with a wicked grin and forced her to change the recording, like resetting a bell.

Every time the echo-flower played the new, mortifying message, Lilith remembered their “fairy-fight” on the sheets and her crushing defeat. Shame burned like a coal.

So she tossed the hardworking little flower out the window, petals tumbling like confetti. Poor, poor bloom.

“I know. Go home and take care of the little ones,” Lilith said, worry curling in her chest like smoke. Two girls even younger than her were staying at the inn.

“Relax. Abaddon’s a lot more reliable than you.” Nidhogg’s words landed like stones, blunt but true.

Lilith sighed, a winded bellows. In her heart, the little Demon did feel more dependable than this scatterbrained, underpowered, fun-addicted Little White Dragon.

“Hmph! Not listening!” She covered her ears like a stubborn child, swung the satchel onto her back, wiggled her little rear in mockery, and pulled a face. “Bye-bye!”

“….” Nidhogg watched, helpless amusement and worry braided like twine. The former Lilith had been sweet with flashes of old-soul calm; now she was a bratty imp welded to a curious cat.

Who knew if that was good or bad? The Black Dragon sighed and headed downhill, a dark leaf on the breeze.

Lilith, fresh off a petty triumph, felt joy fizz like soda in her chest. She raised the envelope and walked to the observatory’s door, where stone met sky.

She knocked softly, like rain on a blade. “Anyone there?”