Lucien went to the North Continent the next day.
The place he arrived in was called the Valley of Wyrms.
This was a valley ruled by ancient blood and catastrophe.
And at its heart stood Vaelcar.
The Cataclysm Wyrm.
He did not need a throne. The valley itself seemed to acknowledge him. The other wyrms moved around his presence like rivers adjusting around a mountain.
Yet, strangely enough, there were people here too.
Lucien sensed them before he saw them.
The Liberators.
They were the same ones Vaelcar had saved when Severance's disaster caused them to fall into the Big World.
Some were training near the cliffs. Some were speaking with young wyrms beside a frozen lake. Some were seated around fires, sharing food with creatures that could probably swallow the camp whole if they were less civilized.
Lucien looked around.
Then smiled faintly.
"This is unexpected."
A deep voice answered from ahead.
"Little brother."
Lucien turned.
