They followed Druid and entered an inner sanctum. Smoke curled from what looked like a calabash at the center of the room.
The space felt larger than it should have been. A star was drawn on the floor, with candles placed at each of its edges. The place was dimly lit by candelabras, their few flames flickering gently.
"How is it bigger on the inside?" Simma asked, astonished.
"Well, I like to keep it peaceful," Druid replied with a soft grin.
"Let's get started, shall we?" he added, throwing Gwen a quick glance.
"What is your Azrax?" he asked her first.
"A lion," Gwen answered quickly.
"You, boy," Druid said, turning to Simma.
"It's Simma," he reminded gently.
"Ah, Simma. What is your Azrax?"
There was a moment of silence. Simma had started to hate this question.
"I don't know," he replied calmly.
"Then step into the star and sit there," Druid instructed, before moving over to Lucy.
"And yours?"
Lucy looked at Simma for a brief second before answering. She knew her Azrax, but couldn't understand how someone else wouldn't—it was usually the first thing anyone discovered.
"Mine is the Mannangal," she said.
Druid's eyes widened. "The Mannangal? A very ferocious beast. Quite wild... for a lady."
He turned back to Simma, and just then, a clone of Druid entered the sanctum, holding a goblet. Without a word, the clone handed it over and vanished.
"Take this," Druid said. "Drink it. Once you do, close your eyes and clear your mind."
"You're about to find out what your Azrax is."
Simma took the goblet and stared at it, unsure. What if it killed him instead? But with a deep breath, he drank.
"Uurgh!" he gasped, face twisting in disgust. The taste was awful.
"Now think. Look deeper—into what's inside you," Druid urged.
Simma closed his eyes. Soon, everything began to spin. Druid's voice faded, and it felt as if he were falling.
He tried to scream, but no sound came. Then—impact.
He landed on his feet, not hurt, but confused. Smoke filled the space around him.
"Hello?" he called, his voice echoing.
He stepped forward, unsure of where he was going—until he heard it: a low, menacing growl.
Then came the flapping of wings—slow and heavy.
From the smoke above, a massive figure descended, its eyes glowing velvet red.
It was a dragon.
Its face was enormous, covered in rough scales and framed by jagged spikes along its back. Its wings were vast, horned at the top edges. It had four legs and a long, powerful tail.
It let out a deafening roar, raising its front legs and slamming them down.
Then, from the mist, a voice echoed—one he'd heard before.
"Blood will rain."
The dragon thrashed violently, rage boiling in its movements. It raised its head and exhaled—a torrent of fire aimed straight at Simma.
He ran, screaming.
"ARRRGHHHH!"
And just like that, he snapped back to reality.
"Are you okay?" Gwen asked, kneeling beside him, worry in her eyes. Lucy was there too, her hand on his shoulder.
Simma was breathing hard. "I know what my Azrax is," he said, wide-eyed.
Lucy and Gwen exchanged glances.
"What is it?" Gwen asked.
Simma looked up at her.
"It's a dragon."
********
"What do you mean I might be the only one with a Dragon as an Azrax?" Simma asked when they got back to the Citadel and were eating dinner.
"Lower your voice, Simma. We wouldn't want people finding out just like that," Lucy said, clearly the one backing him up most of the time.
"The story behind the Dragon Azrax is complicated. From what I know, they almost went extinct after the Bloodbath," Gwen said.
Simma had heard about the Bloodbath before, but never really thought much of it. He looked at Gwen and asked, "Why does it have to be my Azrax? Why that one?"
Lucy laughed. Simma clearly didn't understand what it meant. He had no idea he could soon be one of the strongest, as long as he kept advancing.
"You heard what Druid said—you're rare. You might be the only one. I've even heard rumors that people with that Azrax are hiding," Gwen added.
"You need to eat, Simma. We're going back tomorrow. You need to learn how to summon your beast. Tomorrow is all the time we've got," Lucy said.
Simma ate what he could, but his thoughts lingered on Gwen's words. Could it be true? No—it shouldn't be.
"Hey, I said it was just a rumor. People say a lot of things these days just to sound important," Gwen added, noticing how lost in thought he was.
"What should really worry you is how you're going to summon it. It's said to be the hardest beast to tame and control."
"Yeah, whatever," Simma muttered, continuing to eat.
The night passed quickly. Simma was already up before dawn. He rushed through his meal, freshened up, and joined Lucy and Gwen. Together, they made their way back to Druid's house.
They were let in and went straight into the inner sanctum.
"Now, I believe you both can summon your Azrax—except for him," Druid said, glancing at Simma.
"Yes," Lucy and Gwen replied in unison.
"Now, I'd like to see it for myself. Gwen, you go first."
Gwen took a deep breath. Her eyes began to glow purple, and a translucent fur shimmered around her arms. A ghostly, purple lion materialized beside her. Though it looked like a projection, it was solid and majestic.
It was fierce, towering above her, its eyes glowing the same deep purple. The face was regal, framed by a thick mane, and the body smooth yet furred. Its paws were wide and strong.
"Now that is the Lucent Azrax. It can cause harm—but not like the real beast would," Druid said.
"Show me the real beast, Gwen," he ordered.
Gwen focused harder. The Lucent Azrax shifted—its full, solid form now completely visible, fur gleaming and paws firm on the ground.
"That is a good one," Druid commented as Gwen released it, and the beast vanished.
"Your turn, Lucy," he said.
Lucy closed her eyes, focusing. Her eyes glowed purple too, and a massive beast emerged—one Simma had never seen before. It had the face of a fox, but wasn't exactly a fox. It had horns, eight feet, and jagged spikes running down its back to its tail.
"Ah, the Mannangal," Druid breathed.
Like Gwen, Lucy had summoned the Lucent Azrax first, then the true form.
Druid walked over to Simma, giving him a quick up-and-down assessment.
"You only have limited time until the tournament, and I can't do much for you in such a short period," Druid said.
"But we're going to do an exercise—one I believe will help you in the tournament," he continued.
"This technique is called Anger Pacifying."
Simma looked at him, confused. Why did he need to learn how to tame his anger instead of his beast?
"Now, for the Dragon Azrax," Druid began, "their beast is the hardest to tame. But if properly tamed, it comes with more potential and power than one can ever imagine."
"One who can control his anger," Druid added, "should be able to control the dragon."
"Simma, tell me—whenever you get angry, do you do things you know nothing about? Things you never knew you could do?" he asked.
"Yes," Simma answered, staring at him.
"Then your work is simple—if you're willing to do it," Druid said. "Just allow yourself to be angered. When your Azrax senses anger, it will materialize with only one instinct—kill."
Simma swallowed hard. He knew that killing was not allowed in the tournaments—not at all. Could he really stop his beast from killing once it had materialized?
Druid continued, "The Dragon Azrax is commonly known for one thing since the occurrence of the Bloodbath—to kill anyone who tries to harm its host."
"Now, when your beast emerges, you must think of your happiest moments—to keep it from killing."
This was getting harder and harder for Simma. He had no happy moments—not one. He had been through too much since he could remember.
Since his childhood, up until the moment he had been brought to the city, he had lived in hell.
"That is all you need to know for now, if you must win the tournament," Druid said.
They trained until the sun set before preparing to leave.
Simma had one question, and he asked it:
"Why did the dragon kill anyone who tried to harm them—since after the Bloodbath?"
"Because..." Druid paused, his eyes darkening.
"People say THEY CAUSED THE BLOODBATH."