Chapter Fifty-Three: The Next Move

Lilith’s voice drifted out small, like dawn mist. "Actually... that princess you mentioned might not be dead. Well, I can’t say for sure. But I’ve got a bit of news."

Sakunae Mashiro’s eyes lit up like paper lanterns in the night. She sprang up, heart beating like a drum, and gripped the Little White Dragon’s hand; her fluffy fox tail spun behind her like a buzzing fan. "Really? Can you tell me?"

"Hold up, hold up." The little fox went from gloomy cloud to big dog seeing a bone in a blink. The Little White Dragon floundered under the sudden storm, mouth opening and closing like a fish at the surface. "Don’t get too excited. I don’t know much. Please don’t be disappointed, okay?"

"It’s fine. If you’re willing to tell me, I’ll listen carefully." Mashiro’s voice settled, like a pond under moonlight. She sat straight across from the Little White Dragon, posture firm as a drawn bow.

"The story’s a bit tangled. I’ll take it slow." Lilith shifted, finding a snug perch in Nidhogg’s arms, like a bird in a shadowed bough. Then she began, unspooling her earlier trials thread by thread.

"So she was trapped in the dungeon..." Mashiro lowered her head, murmuring like wind through reeds. "No wonder the royal cells felt familiar when I passed them. Was she calling to me?"

Lilith didn’t answer the whisper. Memory dragged her back to that dream brewed by the Gaze of Darkness, bitter as over-steeped tea. Fear pooled again like night tide; the Little White Dragon curled in Nidhogg’s embrace and clutched the Black Dragon’s coat like a lifeline.

"It’s okay, it’s okay." Nidhogg’s hand patted her back, a warm rhythm like rain on eaves. Under that steady touch, Lilith’s breath smoothed, tremor by tremor. Once her breathing leveled and her body stilled, Nidhogg lowered her voice a shade. "She’s asleep. Sorry about that."

"It’s fine." Mashiro shook her head, calm as a winter pine. "It must’ve been a bad nightmare. Let Miss Lilith rest."

"Mm. You’re moving with us next, right?" Nidhogg held the sleeping Little White Dragon close, like a hearth gathering embers. Lilith’s joy at seeing Nidhogg had masked exhaustion like a veil; now the veil slipped, and weariness surged up her spine like a rising tide. The Little White Dragon sagged and slept, soft breaths like snow.

"Yeah. There’s no way I can take on Eternal Life and her people alone." Mashiro lowered her voice, careful as a hand over candle flame. "I need your help. This matters to me."

"We’ll help. We share the same goal; traveling together is better, like geese flying in a line." The Black Dragon nodded and glanced down at the sleeping girl, gaze gentle as night water. "But I have a small condition."

"What?" Mashiro looked up, a giant punctuation mark practically popping over her head.

"If possible, let Lilith be the one to end Eternal Life." Nidhogg’s words fell like riddles carved in stone. "I get your thirst for revenge. But Lilith needs this chance, even if she doesn’t know it."

"I can do that—on one condition of my own." The kind fox set her jaw, flame steady behind her eyes. "I’ll let Miss Lilith finish it. But I want to defeat Eternal Life with my own hands."

"Mm." The Black Dragon nodded, promise firm as iron. "I agree."

"Then let’s swap intel." Nidhogg’s tone sharpened like a blade wrapped in silk. "What the Little White Dragon knows can wait until she wakes. When you were controlled, could you sense anything outside?"

"Normally, no." Mashiro shook her head, hair swaying like willow fronds. "But Miss Lilith placed a Taint on me. It broke the Moonswallow Mist’s hold. Even with my body seized, I could still sense the world."

"I’ve learned a bit about Eternal Life’s arrangements. It’s roughly—"

"Uu..." Lilith rubbed her eyes and sat up, like a kitten blinking into daylight. She’d dozed off without noticing; the Gaze of Darkness left her drowsy, sleep heavy as fog. Nightmares eat strength like frost eats leaves.

She stretched, a catlike "nia" slipping out as her back unknotted like a loosened bowstring. Then she nestled against the Black Dragon behind her, content as a cup warming between hands.

"What were you two talking about?" Fresh from sleep, her voice was sticky-sweet, like honey on a spoon. Blood hadn’t pumped enough sugar into her brain yet; she nuzzled against the Black Dragon’s chest and asked, soft as silk.

"Our next steps, and we traded what we know." Sakunae Mashiro stepped in just then, carrying an iron pot steaming like a mountain spring. Inside, the soup burbled; meat aroma rose like banners. She lifted the pot to show Lilith the contents.

"Miss Lilith, I cooked a little something. Want to try?" Mashiro set the warm iron pot before her and, like a magician pulling a coin from air, produced a tiny spoon.

"Smells so good." Lilith’s nose twitched, a little deer scenting clover. The fragrance teased out a line of drool; it had been ages since the Little White Dragon tasted something this rich. Still half-asleep, she hugged the pot and took a gulp—then jolted like a spark on dry straw and spat the mouthful out in a rush.

"So hot—oooh!" The heat snapped her awake like a drumbeat. She pulled out her tongue, now red as a maple leaf, face crumpled in comic misery. Lilith summoned a small lump of snow and pressed it to her tongue.

"Don’t use ice directly—it’ll hurt." The Black Dragon gently pinched her tongue, stopping the frost, touch cool as shade. "Let it cool on its own."

"Awright," Lilith mumbled around the big tongue, sounds mushy as mochi. "Mmh."

"Mm." Nidhogg rubbed her head, palm warm as a sunbeam. "Wait a bit, then drink."

"Got it." Lilith dabbed away the tears the scald had called up, then nodded, obedient as a bell on a breeze.