He remembered Lutrian's panicked advice and, feeling the immense pressure of the situation, dipped his head in a shallow, awkward half-bow. "Look, uh, sorry we… well, sorry I… blasted your mountain into rubble. We didn't know you were… napping… under there."
"No harm done, no harm done at all," Ciego assured them, though the dust still rolling down his broad, pale neck suggested otherwise. "A minor inconvenience, at worst." He paused, stirring gently again, a movement that dislodged more rock and sent a tremor through the ground. "Though, it does get rather terribly lonely when the rest of the world forgets you're buried here for a few eons."
Eryndra, recovering some of her usual bravado, mustered a polite, if slightly strained, tone. "So, your 'son,' Orden, the one who decided to hijack our helicopter mid-flight… why is he not a dragon like you?"
Ciego's massive, unseen maw seemed to part in a grin. "Me? A dragon? Oh, Loe no, that's far too simplistic a designation. I was… born… from nothingness itself. Dragons, as you understand them, come from a separate entity entirely. As for my dear, special boy Orden, I simply molded him and his siblings after a rather clever idea my brother had. He has many younger siblings who, unlike him and his reclusive twin you glimpsed earlier, have already left on their own journeys, at my gentle but firm request. But, I would very much like for Orden as well to at least explore the land once, to see what life has become. To shape the man he will eventually grow into. And you, Roy Gunn, are… a most suitable choice to guide him. You are… complex. You witness suffering and feel a genuine desire to stop it, yet you do not use your immense power to bend the world of manfolk to your will. You seem to respect their culture, twisted and flawed as it may be, yet you still strive to produce positive change. You do not kill those you meet without just cause, and you are even… blessed… in a small, but not insignificant, way by one of my own kindred."
Bit of a rambler, Roy thought to himself. Roy's brow furrowed. "Your brother? Kindred?"
"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize I was rambling. Anyway, there are five of us in total," Ciego explained, shifting again with a minor, ground-shaking quake.
Roy froze in fear. If he could hear thoughts themselves, he really needed to keep himself in check.
Ciego continued on. "We who existed before existence itself. The Pre-Primordials, as some of the newer, more imaginative races have taken to calling us." He rumbled softly, his warm breath stirring the wind. "At this present juncture, you appear to be favored by Cang, the fourth of us. Another, the third, is… well, he is half-mad with infinite wisdom. Normally, he is entirely incomprehensible. Yet, in what I surmise was his last moment of true lucidity, he babbled a… a prophecy, of sorts. Something to the effect of: 'AGHHH ple... ple...ple please watch watch watch the cowardly boat boy roy boy roy ROY he him he he will br-ring ring ring RIIIING great, AGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!' And so on. Utter nonsense phrases, for the most part. But he did single you out. By name."
Roy's face colored slightly. He folded his arms defensively. "Cowardly…?"
Ciego let out a cavernous, rumbling laugh that shook the very earth beneath their feet. "I am a coward too, young one! There is no shame in it! Despite my considerable might, I find I fear many things." He then switched to a compassionate a tone. "Besides, nobody else is aware of that… incident… involving Kaelor on your magnificent ship. The one where you, ah, may have peed just a little."
Roy's face flushed a deep, furious shade of beet-red. "I… did not." He adamantly refused to meet Eryndra's startled, and now intensely curious, gaze. Zehrina, for her part, raised her eyebrows, biting her lip hard to keep from laughing out loud.
Sensing the sudden, sharp shift in tension, Ciego abruptly tried to pivot the conversation. "So! It is a most pleasant day for a social gathering, is it not? Would… would anyone care for some… tea?"
Roy was about to deliver a scathing retort, but Eryndra cut him off. "Oh, I would absolutely love some tea! How wonderfully thoughtful of you, Lord Ciego!"
Ciego froze. His immense, unseen form seemed to tense. A long, profoundly awkward silence stretched between them.
"Oh," Ciego finally rumbled, his voice now laced with a distinct note of panic. "Oh, dear. You… you actually accepted. I… I must confess, I do not actually possess any tea. Or cups. Or water that is not currently mixed with mountain debris. I was merely… practicing the proper social reciprocities. I was hoping you would politely decline. Orden, what is the correct protocol for this situation?"
Orden just giggled.
Roy threw his hands up in a gesture of complete and utter surrender. "I'm leaving," he muttered, turning on his heel and beginning the trek back toward the distant, waiting helicopter. Eryndra and Zehrina exchanged a look of pure, unrestrained amusement, then moved to follow, their shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.
Orden, his own cheerful grin never wavering, dashed after Roy, grasping his hand with a surprising strength. "Wait for me! Father wishes for me to join you on your grand adventures! I promise not to break too many things. Or people. Probably."
Ciego's voice, now tinged with a faint, paternal pride, echoed across the rocky basin. "Orden, you must remember the rules. No grand, reality-altering displays of your inherent power. We cannot have you inadvertently unraveling the delicate fabric of existence, or, more importantly, attracting… undesirable eyes. You are not allowed to interfere in Roy's conflicts."
Orden nodded reluctantly. "I know, Father. I will be good."
Roy stared down at the small, impeccably dressed, and terrifyingly powerful childlike being clinging to his hand, his mind still spinning from the sheer, overwhelming absurdity of the last few minutes. "That's extraordinarily scary, but… I suppose it's fine," he murmured, a note of weary resignation in his voice.
"I have told Orden many stories of your remarkable doings, Roy Gunn," Ciego rumbled from a distance. "He has been eagerly awaiting this day for quite some time."
Roy frowned. "But… how could you possibly be sure we'd even come here? Or that I wouldn't just destroy this entire mountain range then leave without inspecting?"
A soft rumble of amusement from Ciego. "I am not all-knowing, young Captain. But certain… glimpses… of possibility are shared among the five of us, courtesy of my dear brother's fragmented, and usually nonsensical, messages. And, of course, your distinct connection to Cang gave me a strong sense that you would eventually wander somewhere lucky, or dangerous, or just plain random enough to find your way to me."
"Ridiculous," Roy shook his head, half-resigned, half-intrigued. "But… I suppose I do owe you for destroying your… well, your home, I guess?" He eyed the impossibly huge, partially buried bulk of the ancient being. "We'll take care of Orden, if that's truly what you want."
Ciego seemed to tilt his massive head, a gesture of profound, ancient thanks that caused a fresh landslide nearby. "Yes. Please. Let him see the world. Let him meet your foes, your friends. Let him learn what it is to be… something other than just my son. And if he grows too bold, too reckless, simply remind him of my command. And his chores."
Orden puffed out his small chest indignantly. "I am not bold. I am… helpful."
Ciego's vast, rumbling voice followed them as they retreated towards the waiting helicopter, now tinged with a clumsy attempt at coolness he must have picked up from some overheard movie of Roy's. "Anyway, you playas better be off now, ya hear? I'm sure you've got cool, non-bitch related things to do!"
Roy stumbled, nearly tripping over a rock. He didn't wait to hear the rest.
Back at the helicopter, Eryndra and Zehrina were already exchanging startled, whispered questions. "Is he really coming with us?" Zehrina asked, her voice hushed with a mixture of awe and concern. "He… he subdued all of us with ease. Effortlessly."
Roy just shrugged, feeling utterly, completely defeated by the sheer, overwhelming weirdness of it all. "We can't very well fight him. And Ciego seems… friendly enough. In his own, deeply awkward, slightly terrifying way."
Orden, beaming, hopped into the chopper before anyone else. "Ready for adventure!"
As JFK prepared for takeoff, Roy cast one last, uneasy look back at the shattered mountain, half-expecting another giant head, or perhaps Orden's reclusive twin, to pop out and offer them a parting gift of ancient, probably cursed, rocks. But nothing stirred except the faint, lingering tremors from Ciego settling back into his long, interrupted slumber. They lifted off, heading back towards the distant, waiting Nightshatter. As they flew, Orden looked out the open door of the helicopter and, with a few small, precise, almost dismissive waves of his hand, reassembled the entire, obliterated mountain range, piece by perfect piece, in just a few silent, breathtaking moments.
"…Yeah, I'm sure this is a GREAT idea," Roy said, his voice flat, his face a mask of stunned, weary resignation.
They arrived back at the ship to find the Immortal Family gathered in a solemn, almost reverent line on the flight deck, all three of them kneeling in respectful, silent supplication. Roy had only seen them bow once or twice before, and to absolutely no one. Yet here they knelt as Orden, their new, pint-sized overlord, hopped nimbly from the chopper.
Father Skeleton looked up, his voice a hushed, awe-filled whisper. "What a profound honor, to be joined once more by the son of the second of them, the great Ciego himself. It has… it has truly been ages."
Roy's face turned as ashen as stone. "You guys… you know him?"
Skelly Mom nodded slowly. "A long, long story, Captain. We… encountered Ciego on multiple occasions, mostly during the time when we roamed the mortal realms freely. We would occasionally meet with Ciego, who, at that time, went by a different, less pronounceable title. The poor, great dragon was terribly lonely, and we… well, we had no fear of him. My husbands master quite enjoyed chatting with him, you see."
Father Skeleton gestured lightly, almost companionably, at Orden. "You could, in a very strange and probably deeply confusing way, call us… cousins. We all go way back. We met Orden multiple times during these visits, mostly when Ciego and his younger sibling Gu—"
Quick as a flash, before the syllable could fully form, Orden's hand shot out and slapped firmly over Father Skeleton's jaw, cutting off the name. Orden's cheerful expression was gone, replaced by a cold, ancient seriousness that was terrifying in its intensity. His eyes flashed with a power that made the air itself seem to thin.
"You know better than to speak his name aloud," Orden said, his voice no longer the lilting chime of a child, but a flat, commanding tone heavy with authority. "Do not invite that particular brand of chaos here without reason. He is not like his brothers."
The Immortal Family members went completely still, though, not a shred of fear passed through Father Skeleton's empty sockets.
From the coastline miles away, a faint, mournful roar echoed across the water. Ciego's distant, booming voice calling out a clear warning. "Play nice, children!"
Orden immediately released his grip, his playful, innocent demeanor snapping back into place as if nothing had happened. "Sorry, Father!" he called out cheerfully into the wind.
Father Skeleton coughed, a dry, rattling sound, as he adjusted his hat. "Yes, yes, my apologies. A momentary lapse. Time has soured my memory, you see. I… forget things."
Orden, ignoring Father Skeleton's statement, wandered over to Skellbro, tipping his chin up in a gesture of casual, almost clinical inspection. "You have grown! But you're still as cute as ever, I see," he cooed, gently stroking Skellbro's bony, unresisting jaw. Then, with a sudden flash of cheerful, boundless energy, Orden bounded back to Roy, clasping his hand again with a proprietary air.
Roy nervously eyed Orden but relaxed quickly. "Kinda scary, Orden, I won't lie. I also didn't expect you to swing that way."
Orden blinked in confusion. "What are you t—"
Skelly Mom, who had been suspiciously, unnervingly calm throughout the entire exchange, suddenly let out a half-stifled, high-pitched shriek of pure, unadulterated terror and sprinted down the deck chuckling and shrieking. Her worn, tattered slippers flopped off her bony feet in her mania. Father Skeleton yelped, a sound of genuine, paternal alarm. "My love! Your slippers!" He immediately gave chase, his rattling footsteps receding into the depths of the ship. Skellbro, with a weary, long-suffering sigh, stooped to pick up the tattered slippers, and then trotted dutifully after them.
Orden, left alone with Roy and his remaining crew, flashed an innocent, beatific grin. "I am so very glad we are all friends now." He gazed up at Roy with an expression of pure adoration, like a devoted puppy seeing its hero for the first time. "Take me on a tour, Captain! I wish to see everything! Every nook, every cranny, every secret, world-ending weapon!"
Roy, feeling the last vestiges of his sanity begin to fray, gently extricated his hand from Orden's surprisingly strong grip. "One step at a time, kid. Let's… let's start by you promising not to casually deconstruct my crew members' free will. Ok?"
"Agreed!" Orden replied sweetly, without a moment's hesitation. He then scurried off towards the helm, his nose in the air as if sniffing the salty, welcoming breeze.
Roy slumped wearily against a nearby railing, exhaling a long, slow breath that felt like it carried the weight of several millennia. "First we blow up a mountain and awaken a lonely, socially awkward god-dragon. And now, we're playing chaperone to his ancient, reality-bending, probably sociopathic child. This day… this day has been absolutely, unequivocally ridiculous."
Eryndra, who had been observing the entire surreal spectacle with a mixture of awe and profound confusion, gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Welcome to our new normal, Roy."
With a wry, humorless shake of his head, Roy dragged a hand down his tired face. "Normal, indeed."