Sniffing the air as if tasting for something, Hexabulous narrowed his eyes, pondering the unknowable.

  His HUD overlay pulsed (amber):

  ALERT: DRAGON VOLATILITY DETECTED

  INTENT: UNPREDICTABLE

  – CONTINUING ANALYSIS –

  EMOTIONAL STATE: ELEVATED

  RECOMMENDATION: AVOID EYE CONTACT

  “For a Fay… she did not charm you… you genuinely want to help her.”

  He was talking about Grace. Had he been smelling him? He got the impression that the dragon’s definition of charm wasn’t the same as his.

  “I do,” Mereque replied sincerely, voice low and cautious.

  The spaceman remained unsure what to make of the monster’s shifting moods—aggressive in one moment, pensive in the next. It was unnerving.

  “Why would you help a Fay?”

  Hexabulous turned away as he became preoccupied with something he held between his clawed forelimbs.

  He had to be careful. Mereque had no idea what might set the creature off or possibly insult it. Being forthright hadn’t landed him in trouble yet, he figured he’d stick with that.

  “Why wouldn’t I? She helped me when I thought you were trying to kill me.”

  The machine pulsed.

  He tensed automatically.

  Ready for anything.

  His mind still hurt, it was a dull ache, a quiet lingering buzz behind the eyes.

  But the thing that identified itself as RX414 only spoke, nothing more.

  “Bzzz… Unlike the humans we know, our guest shares no past with the Fay. He carries none of the historic grievances between the species.”

  “Makes sense for him, but then why would she risk helping him?”, the Red Dragon snarled.

  A loud KLANK startled him—then another, followed by a series of incomprehensible grumblings from the ledge above.

  Soon there were scraping sounds, as if something heavy were being dragged across rock.

  A short blast of fire shot out, orange glowed on stone and shone across the spaceman’s helm, gone as quickly as it erupted.

  Curiosity warred with caution, and caution won the day. Mereque stayed where he was.

  “Why don’t you ask her yourself, after we rescue her.”, he called out.

  “Why don’t I just throw you off a ledge? It would spare me all this trouble.”, the dragon hissed back, plainly agitated by the conversation.

  There was an awkward pause.

  That was when the machine began to move.

  Mereque’s breath caught in his chest.

  RX414’s lights pulsed in measured rhythm.

  Then its voice emerged, calm and unhurried.

  “Bzzz… My apologies. A recalibration is required. I will withdraw to complete the necessary cycles.”

  Mereque tensed, watching as the construct turned smoothly toward a section of cavern wall that appeared no different from the rest—rough stone, shadowed by stalagmites. Without a sound, a seam appeared in the rock, widening into a concealed doorway that irised open like living metal.

  RX glided through, lights dimming as it passed, and the door sealed behind it with a soft grind, blending seamlessly once more.

  Mereque stared, frustration mixing with awe. Secrets everywhere, and he locked in the dragon's den like an unwelcome guest (at best). He let out a breath. At least there’s only one of them now, he weakly assured himself.

  Hexabulous rose into view, massive frame filling the perch. In his grip was a hammer unlike any Mereque had ever seen—a brutal slab of blackened iron for the head, veined with glowing crimson runes that pulsed. The striking face was broad and pitted from countless impacts, scarred with craters. The haft, wrapped in thick scaled leather bound by chains, looked long enough to serve as a ship's mast in lesser hands. With a flap he dropped from his perch towards the center of the cavern, landing somewhere at floor level and just out of sight.

  Mereque hopped down from the shelf he’d been left on. The floor wasn’t far for him. A twenty meter drop at most.

  He still hadn’t gotten past what had happened with the machine moments ago–Mereque swallowed hard. He couldn’t remember a time when his mouth felt so dry.

  A dragon’s lair in a floating mountain. Hidden behind an illusion of clouds. Not what he had been expecting.

  Though nothing in this world had been what they had expected. From the moment the Cazues was destroyed as they entered orbit, to the endless ocean and little land he found, everything they had been briefed on had missed the mark. That wasn’t even taking into consideration all the strangeness he'd witnessed, or the things trying to kill him.

  He moved to where the dragon had gone and came upon the beast in an area built with purpose.

  At the cavern's heart lay a forge unlike any Mereque had imagined—an open space dominated by a massive, charred anvil, its surface pitted from eons of impacts. It had more runes, etched deeply into it, that were glowing faintly with residual heat. Beside it yawned a broad, circular pool fed by hidden channels, its surface was still and dark.

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  The dragon handled his hammer with casual ease, one claw gripping as he dragged along an enormous blade in his other—scarred and notched from wear and use.

  Mereque watched, breath shallow, as Hexabulous opened his jaws and exhaled a controlled stream of fire. The breath washed over the blade in a roaring torrent, heating the metal to white-hot glow, runes along its length flaring in response. Sparks danced, the air shimmering with heat that warped the cavern's shadows.

  Then the hammer fell.

  KATHOOM!

  The impact was thunder—stone vibrating through Mereque's boots, a deep boom echoing like the mountain's heartbeat. The blade rang, flaws pounded out in brutal rhythm, each strike sending cascades of sparks and molten flecks hissing into the air.

  Hexabulous worked with focused fury, muscles coiling and releasing, the hammer rising and falling in relentless arcs. Sweat beaded on Mereque's brow from the radiating heat alone, though he stood well back.

  A dragon at a forge. Not a beast—an artisan.

  As he looked at his surroundings, he noted the absence of treasure. Weren’t dragons supposed to be hoarders of such things? He swore he read tales of those beasts swimming in seas of wealth.

  KATHOOM!

  Mereque flinched at the sound and decided to step away, make use of the opportunity to catalogue the environment. He engaged his systems monitoring features.

  The one panel he’d spotted earlier wasn’t far away. No screens or visible interface. Power relay?

  His eyes fell to the single visible entrance. It was a dark maw whispering promises of escape. He knew it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but the pull was there.

  KATHOOM!

  Mereque looked over his shoulder, the dragon was busy, its attention elsewhere.

  The lair was vast, ancient, a blend of raw stone and subtle technology he couldn't quite place. He took a cautious step towards the wall he’d seen the machine disappear through, drawn by the faint hum echoing from within.

  A low growl rumbled out from behind him, much closer than it should have been. The sound of the hammer had stopped.

  Mereque felt it before he saw it.

  Hexabulous's massive head loomed out of the darkness above him, eyes narrowed in intense menace. "Where do you think you're going, little human?"

  Mereque swallowed. "Just... looking."

  "Looking gets fools eaten." The dragon snarled with meaning.

  "This is my lair. You stay within the den—no further. Our secrets aren't for guests. Some can be deadly.”

  The words landed heavy—possessive, a final warning. Mereque backed away slowly, pulse quickening.

  His HUD pulsed softly (red):

  ALERT: EXPLORATION LIMIT ESTABLISHED

  TERRITORIAL BEHAVIOR CONFIRMED

  LETHAL ENFORCEMENT POSSIBLE

  RECOMMENDATION: COMPLY

  No shit, he scoffed at it.

  It was obvious that this lair held its secrets closed to him.

  He returned to the open space where the anvil stood, frustration mixing with relief. The dragon had resumed its work, as if the warning had been casual conversation.

  Yet from deeper within—beyond the guarded tunnels—Mereque caught faint sounds: a rhythmic mechanical whir, distant clanks like metal on stone, and something else... a low, resonant hum that seemed to pulse with purpose.

  KATHOOM!

  He glanced over. Hexabulous paid no mind, lost in his labor again—Mereque swallowed hard as the dragon held his iron, now glowing white-hot from the impacts and his flames. His last blow sent sparks erupting, chasing away shadows, and set the air to shimmering with heat.

  Hexabulous carefully looked at his work.

  Satisfied, he carried it over to the quenching pool and thrust it in—the hiss was deafening, steam billowed in choking clouds, carrying the scent of scorched earth and ancient rage.

  The steam soon grew too thick, choking the air and forcing him to step back.

  Mereque left the dragon and wandered around the cavern for a while, keeping to the visible spaces. Staying where he had been told. Discovering little, at least at floor level. He noted the lair had several hidden rock shelves, beyond the two he was aware of, making seven in total.

  If there was anything of interest to be found here it wouldn’t be on the ground. This was the den of a dragon, not a home for people. Whatever it valued would be kept well out of reach.

  Then he saw it.

  Emerging from behind a cluster of stalagmites, strutting with absurd confidence, was a creature straight out of a fever dream. It stood nearly as tall as he did, its body absurdly robust and plump, balanced on a pair of oversized chicken legs that ended in clawed feet scraping softly against the stone. A bright red crest flopped comically atop its narrow head, bobbing with each step, while two short, stunted wings hugged tight against its midsection—far too small for flight, more like forgotten afterthoughts. Five maroon curved tail feathers sprouted proudly from its rear, fanned out like a peacock's display gone wrong.

  Mereque froze, staring.

  The creature froze too.

  His HUD pulsed softly (amber):

  ALERT: UNKNOWN LIFEFORM DETECTED

  MORPHOLOGY: AVIAN/MONOCULAR/HYPERPLUMED

  BEHAVIOR: DEFENSIVE IMMOBILITY

  THREAT LEVEL: NEGLIGIBLE

  RECOMMENDATION: MAINTAIN VISUAL CONTACT

  Its single large eye—round and unblinking—locked onto him. It stopped mid-strut, one leg raised comically in the air, crest flopping forward like a limp flag. Seconds stretched. Mereque took a tentative step closer, half-curious, half-wary.

  The creature didn't move.

  He was right in front of it now, close enough to see the faint iridescence on its feathers and the way its chest heaved with quick, shallow breaths. Still frozen. Like a child playing statue, hoping if it didn't move, the predator wouldn't see.

  Its appearance, the way it was acting, he thought it was actually quite cute.

  Mereque couldn't help it—a small, incredulous laugh escaped him. "What in the Seven Planets are you?"

  The creature's eye widened.

  Then it screamed.

  A piercing, ear-splitting squawk erupted from its beak, high-pitched and frantic, echoing off the cavern walls like a siren in a tin can. Mereque flinched, hands clapping over his ears as the sound ricocheted, feathers ruffling in panic. The creature hopped backward once, twice, legs flailing awkwardly, crest slapping against its head.

  Still screaming.

  Hoping, perhaps, the noise would drive the danger away.

  It didn't.

  Mereque stood there, stunned, as the scream cut off abruptly. The creature toppled sideways with dramatic flair, legs splayed, eye rolling back in its socket. Playing dead. Utterly still, as if rigor mortis had set in instantly.

  He blinked.

  Approached slowly.

  Poked it with his boot.

  Nothing.

  A snort from behind drew his gaze. Hexabulous came into sight, eyes glinting with amusement.

  "Har! Rupert's got the brains of a rock and the courage of a feather. Thinks if he screams loud enough or plays like a corpse, the world will leave him be."

  The dragon carried a masterfully forged blade in one claw, the result of his hard work, its edge dancing with an orange glow that made it look like it was alive.

  Mereque looked back at the "dead" bird, its chest subtly rising and falling. "Rupert?"

  "Aye. My pet. Keeps the place lively. He’s a chickenclops." The dragon grinned sharply. "Also, my evening meal."

  Before Mereque could think, Hexabulous lunged past him in a rush of wings and wind. One massive claw scooped the playing-dead chickenclops effortlessly, Rupert's eye snapping open in betrayal—a final, muffled squawk escaping as talons closed.

  The dragon ascended with a great flap.

  Mereque watched, dread rising.

  Hexabulous settled on his perch, Rupert dangling limply (the stupid thing was still trying to feign death). "Good boy, Rupert. Dinner time."

  Crunch.

  The sound was wet, bone-shattering. Blood sprayed. Feathers fluttered down like crimson snow. Rupert screamed loud, once. Then it was over.

  Hexabulous tore into the creature with casual efficiency, jaws working, gore dripping as he devoured his "pet" in bloody, crunching bites. Satisfied growls punctuated each swallow.

  Mereque's stomach turned.

  The dragon looked down, mouth stained red, eyes gleaming.

  "Delicious. Want a leg?"

  “No. No, thank you.”

  “Suit yourself.”