They flew through the day and night, five dragons no longer afraid, until they reached the great mountains of Dair Ranin. There their claws dug, cutting loose marble from the mountainside, a great round pillar they could not carry, but which they rolled across the hills and valleys upon a wagon of logs.

For long days they worked in the forest, carving, smoothing, sculpting, using both dragon claws and bronze tools. The rocs awaited them in the hills beyond, for here among these birches—here was holy ground, blessed with dragon starlight. Fresh snow covered the trees when finally their work was done. A great column rose between the birches, three hundred feet tall, its marble smooth and glittering like the snow, its capital shaped as rearing dragons.

They stood before the pillar, five dragons, dwarfed by the size of their creation. It seemed to Jeid that the pillar glimmered with inner light. A circle of marble tiles stretched around it, and birch leaves scuttled upon the polished stone. In the distance, rising above the forest, sunlight gilded the distant mountains.

"The Column of Requiem," Jeid said. He shifted back into human form and placed a hand upon it. "A beacon to draw our kind to this forest like a lighthouse draws in ships."

Laira shifted back into human form too. She held Jeid's hand and leaned against him.

"Requiem is a true kingdom now." She stared up at the pillar. "But we need a king." She looked at him and touched his cheek. "You vowed to lead us. Be our king."

The others gathered closer, also resuming human forms. They nodded, one by one.

Jeid barked a laugh. "King Jeid Blacksmith? Doesn't sound very kingly."

"It sounds bloody stupid," Maev said and spat.

Laira smiled and placed her small, pale hand against Jeid's wide chest. "You told us that Requiem will last ten thousand years. But Requiem will last for eternity. Give yourself a new name, not the name of a blacksmith but the name of a dragon. Become King Aeternum, a king whose song will echo through the ages."

Beside them, Tanin nodded in approval. "King Aeternum. I like it. Future generations might even think Jeid was noble, not a grizzled, gruff grizzly."

"The only thing eternal about Grizzly is his appetite," Maev muttered.

Jeid sighed and shook his head. Ignoring his children, he looked back up at the column. It soared past the treetops toward the clouds, and the sun fell upon the capital, breaking into many beams.

I hope you are watching, Father, Jeid thought. I hope you are proud.

Laira let go of his hand, stepped forward, and touched the column. She smiled softly and closed her eyes. When she sang, her voice—passing through her crooked jaw—barely sounded slurred to her but high and pure.