Chapter 16 — Now That Was a Thrill.
The Little White Dragon’s awareness rose like mist from the stone basin, a pale ribbon uncoiling from a moonlit pond.
Lilith brushed her skirt, heat pricking her cheeks; only then did she notice she’d somehow slumped under the table, small body twisted like a jammed cabinet hinge, half wedged in the wooden bracing.
Annoyance puffed through her like steam. After a bit of fumbling, she wriggled free, rubbed her face where red marks bloomed like plum petals, dangled her feet once, then popped up from the seat.
The Little White Dragon set the used stone basin back in place, gentle as shelving a quiet moon. She even remembered the uncorked bottles, resetting everything to how it had looked when she came in.
Satisfied warmth filled her chest like tea. Lilith clapped her small hands, gave the neat, dim room one last fond look, then snapped the weak lamp off, drawing night over the space like a curtain.
“Done?” When the Little White Dragon pushed the door open, the barkeep was still polishing his beat‑up glass, rubbing at it like he meant to scrub rust off daylight. Lilith couldn’t recall how long he’d been at it; maybe he’d swapped to a new one.
“Done. Your meditation basin’s lacking, though—doesn’t even play sound.” The Little White Dragon gave Nidhogg a nudge. Lilith had a dragon’s strength, and even if she ranked small among dragons, no normal human could match it. Yet no matter how she shoved, she couldn’t budge the Black Dragon from his seat. Cheeks puffing, Lilith shot Nidhogg a glare, then huffed and planted herself on the Black Dragon’s lap.
The Little White Dragon snagged Nidhogg’s soda water, lifted the cup, and glug‑glugged the rest down like a stream swallowing pebbles. She killed the drink in one go and let out a hearty burp. “Hah. Your soda’s pretty good, though. If you ask me, you should just stick to running the bar.”
“Technical limits. I don’t mess with that busted basin. I focus on what I’m good at.” The barkeep tugged a smile across his face; his big yellow teeth, corn‑colored from years of neglect, slid past his lips. The sight made the Little White Dragon grimace; she pushed the empty glass toward him like a shield, keeping him at arm’s length.
“Do us a favor and talk less. Another soda, please,” she said, all scorn and pinched nose.
“Got it. Hold on.” The barkeep flipped the glass; a chilled soda, bubbling like rain on stone, skimmed across the counter to Lilith.
The Little White Dragon drained that one and headed out. Without Abaddon to open the otherworld portal, Litt had to trail after Lilith and Nidhogg. The Black Dragon walked between two white fluffballs, guiding them through Bosaklie’s lower‑tier streets. The Little White Dragon drifted to the curb, hopping and skipping, stepping on lamplight shadows like she was playing with puddles of ink.
“How is it? Did you find what you wanted?” Nidhogg’s voice was warm, his gaze soft as dusk on river water, watching Lilith play with shadows, with Litt mimicking her jump behind.
At his call, the Little White Dragon spun half a turn and halted. Litt was a beat late, grabbed her sleeve, and turned a little circle with her. They wobbled like willows in a gust, but thanks to Nidhogg’s day‑by‑day training, Lilith’s waist held firm, and they didn’t go sprawling.
“Oo‑waa.” Lilith steadied, shook her head like a bell, then thrust her proud chest at Nidhogg with shining confidence. “Of course. The memory bundle had no sound and didn’t say where the stash is, but I at least know there’s something buried under Bosaklie.”
“What could be under the city? Don’t tell me it’s a dragon.” Nidhogg chuckled, smoke‑smooth. He clearly didn’t take her seriously—though his arrow had hit the mark.
“Hmph‑hmph. There really is a dragon down there!” The Little White Dragon’s eyes lit like lanterns. “I haven’t met it, and it’s a yellow one, but I can tell—it’s a dragon.”
Lilith hadn’t been a dragon long, but she’d seen plenty. Dragon forms share the same grand lines; no way she’d mistake a true dragon.
“A yellow dragon… how long ago must that be.” Nidhogg propped his chin, thinking, eyes drifting like stars over a dark lake. “A yellow dragon means the Golden Dragon. Older than dragons as we know them. Legend says he owned all the wealth of this continent, and the Mother of Earth executed him for greed. Time dusted him so deep that dragons stopped counting him among their own. Luckily, the Star Canvas faithfully records every dragon, and his name survived.”
“Oh, oh, it’s him. I saw Gaia smack him into mince with one palm.” Lilith raised a small hand, fingers fluttering like a sparrow. “He died pretty miserably, no wonder dragons won’t accept him. Still, him ending up under Bosaklie—that’s fate tossing dice.”
“Rather than him lying under Bosaklie, it’s that the Demons built their city atop his corpse.” Nidhogg shook his head, voice steady as ironwood. “For a city that moves, the lowest frame must be rock‑solid. Common materials can’t withstand years of grinding. But a dragon’s bones can shoulder a city like pillars under a mountain.”
“So dragon bones are that tough—holding a city for thousands of years.” Lilith whispered, awe chiming in her chest like crystal.
“Of course. A dragon’s skeleton is harder than most metals. You, little one, are still young. Your bones haven’t set like iron yet, so you pass for ordinary.” Nidhogg explained, tossing a casual jab like a pebble across water.
“Hey!” Lilith didn’t let the Black Dragon get away with it. She flicked Nidhogg with her tail, a white whip swishing like grass in wind.
It didn’t hurt him, and that was fine. If it didn’t sting, she’d swat again anyway.
“Though…,” Lilith paused, a thought rising like a fish breaking the surface. “If that Golden Dragon became Bosaklie’s foundation, what are we even going down to look for?”
“I don’t know.” Nidhogg delivered the premium answer, dry as dust. “I’m not from Bosaklie. And you were the only one who read the bar’s memory. I don’t know what was in it. Shouldn’t we be asking you what’s next?”
“How would I know?” The Little White Dragon puffed her cheeks, frustration bobbing like a balloon. Next steps? Lilith had no clue.
“Ah… then one step at a time.” Lilith sighed, breath trailing like fog, and looked toward the end of the street, where shadows pooled like ink. She hadn’t reached Bosaklie’s deepest tier yet. Whatever waits down there can wait until they do.
