The full moon hung like a polished silver disk above the desert, pouring cold light over the elevated terrace of Neftraya's palace.
"Originally this residence of mine was a temple, years ago, built by the Supreme Royal Wife. I was her chief priestess until her death." Neftraya claimed with a smile, seated on a beautiful chair of imported wood from a distant region.
The terrace—the high priestess's private area—was a floating oasis above the mortal world: columns of rose limestone, carved into blooming papyrus, supported a canopy of indigo-dyed linen that rippled gently with the breeze from the Great River and its canals.
Kharvathar had sat down. Quietly, he watched the woman eat. Everything she had said in the last thirty minutes was irrelevant to him, but the woman did not stop. Neftraya wanted to connect with him. The dragon, for his part, saw no importance in it. But she had asked him to stay, and he had stayed.
"You love temples," Kharvathar observed. "Everything you do is for your gods." The concept was still curious to him, though he understood it. And his experience with them had not pleased him. Kharvathar was beginning to hate these mysteries.
"Indeed. I could even say that every residence is a temple. And our own bodies as well. How do you feel in your body?"
A cold breeze passed between them; dwarf palm trees planted in hammered-gold pots swayed their leaves, and alabaster fountains murmured water scented with blue lotus.
"Anguished. Trapped. Furious." He opened and closed his hand several times. "And an anxiety in the form of a voice in my mind." He fixed her with those yellow eyes that seemed like the sun. Kharvathar now commanded his body perfectly, but the strangeness remained.
"That voice that has enabled you to understand everything so far?" The priestess decided to explore this hidden side.
"No. The voice demands that I kill you—and everyone." The woman did not react with shock. Kharvathar then looked up at the sky and saw the stars. He remembered when he had flown in his former form, rising high, seeing the bright points in the dark abyss, and wanting to go there. This time, now in human form, they seemed much farther away.
"As for assimilation, they simply appeared in me. I heard the man you call pharaoh, and in the same moment I could converse with him. This happened also right after I awakened from the fall—the Meanings arose in my mind."
The woman gave a wide smile and rested her arms on the table, looking at Kharvathar with an expression of curiosity, showing she was paying close attention, and let him continue.
"Yet when I ask why I am this way, I receive no answers, no meaning. And the only answer I have is the one you gave me—these so-called gods."
The woman tucked her hair behind her ear.
"That voice that demands you kill me… why did you not listen to it and do so?"
"Because it seems to make sense that I need you. Until you are no longer useful." He answered. And that was exactly what Neftraya wanted to hear.
Despite Kharvathar's face already resembling a human's, many of his expressions were apathetic or showed discontent. His long hair swayed without his concern. In fact, he liked it, for it reminded him a little of his former form when he flew.
"I also have… a voice," she said with a smile. The dragon reacted with interest.
"Your voice tells you to kill me?" Inside, he felt the experience of something "funny," for it was comical that the voice demanded something the woman was incapable of doing.
"No. Not killing. It is a hidden voice… that allows me to converse with myself," she explained, gesturing her fingers to her temples. "But it is different. Lord Kharvathar, you seem to have not one or two, but three voices within you—if I am not mistaken."
"Explain," he ordered.
"The voice that allows you to think and decide not to kill me is the voice similar to mine—it is your awakened consciousness. I call it the pure act of being, what makes us perceive ourselves."
Kharvathar nodded. They looked directly at each other.
"The second, I imagine, is your nature. You claimed you were born to kill, and that voice is your instinct demanding you do it. That is why you feel confused when you do not—your consciousness confronts your nature. We humans have that too…"
"I awakened the first before being transformed into a human," he said, following her reasoning.
"And perhaps… as a consequence, you had to change completely. Because they all wanted to kill you? It was not only because you were who you were—an ancient beast. But also because this happened." Kharvathar noted that the woman expressed no doubt in her argument and let her continue.
"There is an ancient law that said creatures of Chaos could not be living things, for existence is desired in pure nature. And what arose from there would be corruption… something flawed." She traced her own fingers across her lips, never losing sight of Kharvathar's yellow eyes. "So, by thinking, your existence was modified to… let us say… circumvent that law. Made, according to the story, by the Goddess of your ancient enemies."
"Then your God and Uras's did this, defying the other Goddess's law?" Kharvathar felt this doubt hammer his mind.
"Oh, I imagine the pharaoh believes faithfully that it was so…" The woman gave a low laugh, then gracefully drank from her chalice.
Kharvathar rose from his seat—he had wanted to do so for some time—and walked across the black-and-turquoise mosaic floor to the wall.
"And you—do you believe that is it?" He turned to her. For some reason, he found himself wanting the woman's opinion. Her knowledge—he needed it. He wanted to know if he was a weapon in a conflict between gods.
She rose as well. Kharvathar gazed at her body in the strong-colored dress and robes that seemed to glow in the moonlight, accentuating the blackness of her skin. Then she said:
"You will have more answers if you stay by my side. But I suspect you were fated for this, in some way, since your creation. Some kind of… destiny."
Kharvathar's memories were nearly all ordered now, but they were scarce regarding his creation. Yet he vaguely remembered the true Lord, his creator, his father.
Kharvathar also needed to know about the supposed 'third voice.' It was there, acting in silence.
"And what do I need to do now?" he questioned.
The woman calmly approached and placed one hand on the dragon-human's chest.
"You will need to trust me. We need each other to achieve what we want… and to prepare together for what is coming."
Suddenly footsteps came from the entrance. One of Neftraya's priestly servants bowed upon arriving, saying:
"My lady, forgive the intrusion, but a message has arrived. The pharaoh summons you. He requests your urgent presence."
Neftraya nodded and ordered the woman to prepare the bathing area. Finally, she turned to the dragon.
"You do not need to come with me. I ask that you stay and do the following: converse with yourself. My attendants will prepare a good place for this. And remember what I said before… the path is within. We only need to find it."