Working with the materials extracted from a dragoness of The Molten Expanse’s power was a delight. Every vial of blood, every sample of flesh, and even the scales pulsed with an inner font of mana that was almost too dazzling to behold. The possibilities of what I could do with them were making me giddy.

  Granted, the process of getting them had been slightly…

  I shuddered, not having anticipated what it would be like to watch as someone I was quickly growing to care about mutilated themselves.

  Shaessath’s casual attitude while doing so had made things worse, somehow. She had simply extended her left foreleg… arm? I wasn’t sure what to call the odd arm-leg hybrid dragons had for their front limbs. Regardless, she had extended one of those and then carved away a solid chunk of herself.

  She was fine, of course. Her flesh had immediately bubbled and begun to regenerate, quickly enough that her forearm was flawless again within minutes. But I still did not enjoy the memory.

  At least I obtained a great deal of her blood, even if it was a scramble to collect all of it after she so carelessly chopped a portion of her limb off.

  She forlornly apologized for being unable to provide me with any bone samples. Apparently, those were not items a dragon could easily regenerate. Broken bones could heal quickly, yes, but only if all of the pieces were still there and relatively close together.

  I inquired further into that, wanting to be prepared in case Alys ever got badly injured. Shaessath did clarify that the healing abilities of draconians would be less potent and that recovery would take longer, but she assured me the foundational principles were the same.

  I planned on never letting Alys get hurt, of course. Still, knowing with certainty that she could recover from even extensive damage went a long way towards letting some part of me unclench.

  Then came the experimentation.

  I took a sample of each material I got from Shaessath and ran them through my beetle’s flames, one by one. They each produced the same result as her blood: an increase in the age subcategory dragons used to indicate power. A single-step increase, that is.

  Both of us were curious about pushing further. When we’d gathered enough processed blood to fill up a beaker, we ran that through the beetle’s flames once more.

  The results thrilled Shaessath as much as they frustrated me.

  The resultant blood drop was certainly more potent than the full beaker of blood we had started with, but it was pointedly not pushed into the next age subcategory of power. According to Shaessath, it wasn’t even close.

  What she had to say on the matter was comforting, though.

  “Do not be greedy. Do you have any idea how valuable what that beetle can do is? The difference between the dragons of different ages is pronounced. I suspect the only reason the flames can even push my blood as much as they do is because I am close to the next rung of power already. In fact, once you pass a certain age, growing older alone will not qualify you for the next step.”

  That confused me, since it ran counter to the idea of dragons being classified by their age to begin with. Shaessath explained that once a dragon had reached the peak of elder classification, something more was required to go beyond. Otherwise, one would simply be considered an ever more powerful elder.

  I could admit that made me feel better. I had pushed it aside, but the news that certain dragons simply vanished or fell into slumber once they’d pushed past the elder dragon ceiling had worried me. It was a relief to know that a dragon could choose not to poke their nose into dangerous places.

  It also removed my quiet dread at the thought of Shaessath asking me someday to help her grow more powerful faster.

  “Hrrrmm. Set aside some of the refined materials for my sweetling to test today. The drop of blood seemed to do her good yesterday, but the effect won’t be all that pronounced unless she continues to consume more of such supplements daily. At least, until you manage to produce a potion.”

  “Should I try to process them a little so she can take all of the materials at once?” And avoid directly devouring pieces of her grandmother, was what I thought but wisely didn’t say.

  The suggestion still seemed to catch Shaessath off-guard. She froze, then slowly turned away from the refined pieces of herself to stare directly into my eyes.

  “Explain.”

  “Well, I cannot make a potion or a proper alchemical product yet, but I can throw together something that will make the enhancement a tiny bit more effective.”

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  I was fairly sure of that, at least. When I saw the happy grin that spread over her face, I began fervently hoping I hadn’t set her up for disappointment.

  “Let us get started, then,” she commanded.

  Once more, I had to fight against the twitching of my lips at her use of the word ‘us.’ What she really meant was ‘work while I look over your shoulder and occasionally prod you for results.’ But… as I said before, I was really starting to enjoy having The Molten Expanse around.

  And no, it had nothing to do with the fact that she let me call her ‘Grandmother’!

  … I used to be a better liar than this.

  —

  In the end, I managed to combine the ‘refined draconic materials’ (as I’d begun referring to them for the sake of my own peace of mind) with both the local honey and the wildefire fruit.

  The former did enhance the effectiveness of the final result a little, but it was mostly there to mask the taste of, well, Shaessath. This would hopefully make it easier for Alys to swallow the supplement regimen her grandmother was planning to put her on. The wildefire fruit, on the other hand, actually synergized with the materials surprisingly well. I was convinced it had even boosted their effectiveness by a few percentage points. And, again, it made them actually taste nice.

  Shaessath was predictably thrilled with the results. She was even more thrilled when she asked why I thought making the potion would be difficult, with everything we had accomplished so far, and I explained this was not even a fraction of what the future potion should be capable of achieving. I worried a little that she was growing too invested in our success, but it was easy enough to move past that.

  She then insisted on sticking around while I worked on my daily production quotas… though I strongly suspected this was so she could benefit directly once I started making more torture juice.

  Her presence did not affect my productivity, of course. The daily work was completed in due time. Regardless of how much I was tempted to hide in my lab until everyone else went to sleep, I realized I couldn’t put certain things off any longer.

  So, with a bit of a sigh, I cast the relevant cleansing spells. I then offered Shaessath the chance to bathe first while I cleaned up a few things around my lab.

  The way she paused at the door made me look up into her eyes, finding some emotion I couldn’t decipher there.

  “You realize, of course, that you do not need to pander to Soren’s whims.”

  “I know,” I said slowly. “But I think Alys would be happier if I got along well with her father.”

  Shaessath scoffed, but said nothing else as she left.

  She must have alerted Soren that I would be out soon. When I finished bathing and ventured outside, he was already waiting for me, a large bundle and shield in hand.

  “I thought knights were supposed to wear armor,” I noted dryly, before I could stop myself.

  “Are you planning to do so?” he asked.

  “No. But I am not a knight.”

  “Then I shall not either.”

  I sighed at the stubborn look on his face. I then glanced towards the window, where Amara and Alys were not even pretending not to spy on us.

  It might have been arrogance, without anything to back up my assumption of how our spar would go, but I still opened my mouth. “Would you be open to following me while I see to one more chore for the day? I need to check on a few things, and I could use the company. We can spar afterwards.”

  He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but I couldn’t tell if he knew I was trying to get us out of sight of his mate and daughter. Nonetheless, he nodded.

  I took us in the direction of the manchineel grove, since I did want another look at the flowers growing there. The walk was peaceful, I suppose. Neither of us said anything, which could have been awkward, but the relaxed look on Soren’s face made me think he was content rather than holding his tongue.

  Granted, things did take a quick turn when we reached the manchineel grove.

  “These are the trees that —”

  “Enough.” He cut off my attempt to explain why we were there and strode towards the center of the clearing, shaking out his arms. “Whatever your reason for moving us away from my wife and daughter, we are here now. You use daggers, correct?”

  “I do.”

  “Excellent. My daughter made us these.”

  He unwrapped the bundle he was carrying to reveal a sword and a pair of daggers. They were made out of wood, with bits of that material (the name of which I still hadn’t gotten from Shaessath) for handles. The practice weapons were expertly crafted. I couldn’t help but note the daggers were identical to my actual pair.

  I caught my weapons when he threw them at me, and nodded as he immediately took up a proper combat stance. We would be starting at once, then.

  He launched himself at me with no hesitation, no doubt, and no wasted movement. I could tell instantly that he had spent countless hours drilling and practicing, and that he hadn’t allowed himself to slip in his training. Ever.

  I could also feel the mana blazing within him, reinforcing his entire being as he forced me to dodge out of the way of his shield and then redirect his sword away from my vitals.

  However… I would not lie and say I was pressed to respond.

  He wasn’t Nasha, with her blistering speed and surprising physical strength. He wasn’t Martha, either, with a shockingly deep well of stamina and strikes that were a genuine threat.

  He was, in the end, human. An aging human, at that. Though not at all weak, he had none of the physical advantages of other races.

  I played along for a few minutes, but eventually, my dagger struck his wrist in a move too quick for him to respond. My blade then shifted to hook the crossguard of his sword and jerk the weapon out of his grip. A twist and a kick to the lower edge of his shield also slammed the defensive implement into his knee, opening him up for a strike that would have allowed me to slash open his throat. Instead, it ended with my dagger’s tip lightly pressing into his neck.

  Soren was breathing heavily, having pushed himself to the utmost. I was not.

  His expression clouded. Something deeply bitter flashed in his eyes for a moment. Then, to my shock, he actually offered me a smile.

  “You win.”

  I rushed to say the first thing that came to mind. “You fought well.” His answer was a snort. “You did! You are much more skilled with your weapons than I am.”

  This was the truth. He was clearly a gifted combatant who had built upon his natural talent with constant practice. Frankly, I was cheating by using my superior physical abilities.

  “You do not need to soothe my pride,” Alys’ father assured me, before unceremoniously lowering himself onto the ground. “Come. Sit. Let us talk.”

  Feeling a bit like I was walking into a trap, I obeyed.