Desreal: I know for whom the bell tolls;

He knows the moment he sees her that this could be a meeting the likes of which he’s been anticipating for a very long time.

This is why the Nightmare waits for her – he need not be found, but is already present, standing there beneath the monochromatic shadows of Desreal with his dragon-wings folded delicately at his sides and a certain ominous intrigue in his pale white eyes. He watches her – Queen and lion, flames wreathing around her – while his own Lightning runs in channels through the metal of his scales, which glint not silver-like but as the actual, impenetrable thing.

“Dissolution,” he says simply.

Her questions should anger him. They don’t. They don’t because he knows the answers, the reasons – “I enjoy destroying things that most horses assume are indestructible. Civilization, for one. Government. Security. You are an Oracle. You know how transient these things are.” Hypatia has gained this knowledge in one lifetime, whereas it has taken the Nightmare thousands.

Baraqel flashes in his mind and along with it is a scourge of anger, and Hypatia detects this immediately.

Her question brings about a simple answer. “I should have no reason to. My fight is with the Firestarter and Solira’s falcon. If Baraqel were not such an immediate problem, I should forget all about Ni’Srilan and any vendetta I might have against it. Though that’s not to say I won’t make every effort to kill him.”

What he wants. She’ll know what he wants – it doesn’t take an Oracle to see the brooding malice in his eyes, the dragon-strong power and electrical vengeance.

“Influence,” he answers. “A position from which I can decimate Solira and its queen and general. And seeing as how I have no intention of answering to any talentless belly-crawling worm fortunate enough to wield a title…” there is a snarl then, a flash of a forked tongue between slender fangs (thin and discreet as hypodermic needles), “…I will align myself with you Vipers, on the condition that you give me my son’s position and control over your army.”

Silence, the flicking of a forked tail against the shadow-spun curve of his metallic haunch, and his wings shift along his back.