Instead of speaking, it turns slowly so I can see the largest patch of that mist-like... nothingness. The thick serpentine shape of its body seems to fade and drift up in smoke all along its right side.

The dragon's eyes close briefly, as though in pain. When they open again, I see the madness swirling deeper, threatening to consume what lucidity remains. "You can run, angry human. I can hold it off for a time. Only a time."

Angry human? Seriously? I want to laugh at the ridiculousness of the nickname, but the danger is still too real.

I study the creature before me, seeing beyond its terrifying appearance to the ancient intelligence trapped within. Something about its suffering calls to me, resonates with a part of myself I'm only beginning to understand.

I know I should run. I should take its offer and not think twice. Except…

"Can I help you? Somehow?"

"You must run," it roars in my mind, and now I feel as though I hear two voices. One is wise and old and the other is deep and bestial, twisted and terrible.

"And what happens to you if I run? Why did this... other thing inside you want me dead? Was it because I can hurt it?" I desperately flip through my mental catalog of everything I've read so far in the unbound book. Countless passages talk about how unbound have the power to unmake or to ether. To draw energy of all sorts, and how this was a gift and a curse. It still doesn't make complete sense to me, but I know what I've already seen.

In the lake, I pulled something from this creature. Whatever I did let an intelligence shine through. So maybe I could... do more.

The deep blue eyes flash, and ink-like blackness swirls within. Its body shifts, head lowering as it begins to pace and circle me, long body stretching out as it walls me in.

"Run... little one, before you are destroyed."

"No." Pulse racing, I push down my terror and reach a hand up for its large snout. With one snap of its massive jaws, it could destroy me. I brace for the pain, but only feel my palm land softly on the scaled surface between nostrils that trail steam.

A rush of sensation and power passes into my hand. My body wants to draw it in, to try to absorb it like I did in the lake.

The dragon breathes out heavily, as if my touch is both a relief and something to struggle against. The heat of its breath and the scent of salt water and sea life washes over me, but I don't pull my hand away. I drive my focus deeper.

And then I feel it. There's an inky film coating everything within the dragon. I could draw the power and maybe some of that stain with it, or I could try to draw only the stain itself.