Kihrin exhaled. He didn’t explain the rest—that even though S’arric’s body had been turned into the vessel to house a corrupted force of darkness, S’arric’s soul had eventually been freed and returned to the Afterlife.

To eventually be reborn as Kihrin D’Mon.

Janel’s gaze locked with Kihrin’s. “But I have also heard that this prophesied Hellwarrior will be the one to free him, the one to usher in the end of the world.”

“That’s … that’s still very much under debate. I don’t think that’s true at all either.” Kihrin said, “We’re sure it’s not just one person, anyway. Not just a single ‘Hellwarrior.’ There are four of us.”

“Us?” Qown repeated.

Kihrin made a face and didn’t answer.

“That makes no sense either,” Janel said. “Why not eight? Eight immortals, eight dragons, eight Hellwarriors?”

Before Kihrin could make any comment, Qown interrupted. “Okay, wait. Go back to that part about the dragons. Even if the rest of what you say is true, you said the participants became dragons. Are you sure you heard that detail correctly?”

“Emphatically,” Kihrin replied without looking at Qown. “That’s how all nine dragons were created.”

“Eight dragons,” Qown corrected.

Kihrin frowned as he glanced over at the priest. “I can see this is going to become a habit. Nine. That’s what I was about to say to Janel: the numbers don’t always match. You see, the man who devised the ritual, performed it—he became a dragon too. You’ve met him. He runs around calling himself Relos Var these days.”

Qown blinked. “Relos Var isn’t a dragon!”

“Oh yes, he is. Relos Var just chooses not to look like a dragon most of the time.” Kihrin shrugged. “Maybe that’s why he’s not insane the way the other dragons are? I honestly don’t know.”

As Qown sat there, eyes wide and shocked, Kihrin turned back to Janel. “The first quatrain does sound like it refers to you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Does it really? Am I gathering outlaws and witches while I plot an uprising?”

“You tell me. Are you?”

Brother Qown held up his book. “I’ll just keep reading, shall I?”

Neither Kihrin nor Janel protested.

Qown’s Turn. Mereina Castle, Barsine Banner, Jorat, Quur.

The castle felt empty, with a skeleton crew and a locked gate left behind. Most residents crowded into the arena on the tournament grounds. But Brother Qown still felt exposed and vulnerable as Mare Dorna and he, supporting a limping Ninavis between them, pretended to be servants returning from some assignment gone awry.

“Is she all right?” A guard pointed at Ninavis.

Mare Dorna waved a hand. “Oh, she’s fine, fine. Just a clumsy mare. Tripped on a stair.”

“Hey now, what do you mean I’m clumsy?”

“Well, who went and tripped over her own two feet? Wasn’t me, I tell you.”