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Garath the Pesticide liked his book. It was a good book. The main character was a goblin but he found her surprisingly alike himself, and very endearing. If she had been real and not the figment of some lunatic’s imagination, he would have liked to help her in securing the affections of His Honor Judge Haffrey. Her methods were not to his liking as much as she was. Batting eyelashes, exposing her neck… Ransom would work much better.

That, or fire. Fire always worked. 

“Yes, but I didn’t think you’d actually agree,” human Gecko said. Angry, despondent. He scanned the page for more fitting word, eventually settling on distraught.

“It’ll be good for us,” goblin Buccina said. “Our god is more than right. We have spent far too long cooped up in here, festering among the hopeful. Some fresh air and a change in perspective may be just what we need.” But Buccina was a liar. A filthy filthy liar of a goblin who refused his own truth. Too alike his master, in that sense. “Not to mention that someone needs to inform Loathe Summit about how dragons are being used in the war.”

“But you can’t just…” The human paced up and down the room, lovely tail swishing in annoyance. “It’s so obviously a bad idea! Sure, it’s not like he was saying it to test your faith, he’s not like that, but if you go, then if something were to happen…”

“He’ll be fine. He said so himself. Are we to doubt his self-testimony?” Buccina waved his hand dismissively. “Our absence will be brief. No more than… Garath, how long will it take to get to Loathe Summit and back?”

“Five days,” he said. On the page, Mira was at a masquerade ball, searching for His Honor, despite being surrounded by masks. He hoped desperately she would find him. It would be too cruel if she didn’t. 

“See? Only five days! There will be no time to mourn our absence before our return.”

“I still don’t think… Oh, blast it all. You want to get away? Sure, be my guest! It’s not like being the pope of this whole faith means that you have any responsibilities. Go on your little Kitty-less adventure. I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear about it. Actually, yeah, let me go right away and get that he-rat for you. I’ll be right back.” Exit human Gecko. 

Good. Now, with no more yelling, Garath could read without having to listen to distractions. A familiar silhouette among the strangers… Could it be? Would she dare to hope? Licking his thumb, Garath turned the page, and—

“She seemed mad,” Buccina said, now at Garath’s bedside. “Did I say something wrong?”

Annoying aspect of spawnlings: constant need for validation. “Assuming we leave tomorrow, you will have more than enough time to figure it out.”

“Figure what out? That I…?”

But now Mira had ripped the mask off to find a stranger, and not His Honor! Scandal in the ballroom, a hundred gazes on her. Garath held his breath. But who was this stranger? A pair of large, handsome eyes regarded her, his slender ears twitching… It was none but the crown prince, and now she had found her way into his eyes! “Accursed prince,” Garath muttered at the ink and paper. “Have you no shame? Turn not fair Mira from her target…!”

But he did. Garath read, teeth grinding, hands trembling, as Mira danced with the prince, failing to notice the gaze of her one true lover among the masked crowd, her heart entwining with someone far above her station—but not her heart. 

“Tell me, Buccina,” he asked, between shuddering breaths, “where does the author, Ulumna Hygg, make her abode?”

“Huh? Oh, um… Hasn’t she been dead for the past hundred years or so?”

“She has? I see.” There would be no city-burning that night, then. Silent, save for the thunderous beating of his heart, Garath closed the book, and set it to the side. He was only halfway through it. Perhaps this was only a tangent. A side-affair for Mira to deal with, allowing her to recognize her true feelings for Haffrey, while he found a way out of his unhappy marriage. 

Upon closing the front cover, he found himself rereading the title of the quaint little novel. 

Ascent of the Harpy-Rose Queen.

“Accursed Hygg!” Garath spat. If she could not pay in person, perhaps her descendants would make do. Yes, they would make do. “I must go.”

But before he could rise to the divine task laid before him, the door to their bedroom opened, and the human Gecko dragged her way inside, white winged rat in hand, a profoundly exhumed look on her face. Yes, that was the face of a buried and unburied corpse. She shambled undead across the floor, all the way to where Buccina sat on his bed, before dropping the rat into his lap. “Here. Take it.”

“Oh, um… How did he…?”

“He was glad. He was so glad. He’s been kind of down these past days and he seemed bummed out when I told him you wouldn’t do something as stupid as leave him behind to go adventuring, but when he heard you wanted to go, he totally lit up. Big smile on his face. I could even hear him think—and I’m not making this up—yippie. He thought yippie. That’s how happy he was. Fuck, he’s so stupid. You all are. Holy shit. I’m the only sane person in the whole world which means I’m the only lunatic.” Her sunken eyes moved from Buccina to Garath to her feet to Buccina again. “I’m going now. Leave whenever. I’d tell you to make an announcement but I honestly don’t think it’s needed. I’ll have Berna prepare a week’s worth of provisions for you. Bye.”

“Ah, uh…” Silly goblin, couldn’t make up his mind what to tell her as she was leaving, so he ended up not saying anything at all. The door closed but he kept looking at it for many seconds, until a movement from the white winged rat brought his attention elsewhere. “So this is… a herald…?”

Small and winged and not very plump, not as much as other rats. Glossy hair and such. Not a bad rat. Respectable, as far as such pretty creatures went. 

Kitty liked them. 

Going by the way Buccina petted it, small, gentle strokes, it seemed he had an affinity for the things as well. It was not Kitty himself. That was understood. For the moment, it was simply an animal. “I guess you’ll be sleeping with us tonight, huh?” Buccina said, rubbing its cheeks with his thumb and index. The animal chittered and shook its wings with pleasure. “You like that, do you? Hmm… Can’t let a lovely little thing like you go nameless… How about Cornet? How does that sound?” The little thing squeaked with joy, eliciting a chuckle from Buccina. “Sounds good, doesn’t it?” Smiling, Buccina cupped Cornet in his hands, letting it nuzzle into his fleshy skin. “We’ll be going on a little adventure soon, Cornet. Tomorrow we set off towards the home of the dragons. It’ll be dangerous. Too dangerous for anyone else to come along. But we have to go—for the sake of hope, and friendship. Are you certain you’ll have the courage to come along?”

Cornet wiggled his whiskers, which really could have meant anything.

“I knew you would be. Brave little Cornet!”

For a minute or so, Garath the Pesticide did nothing but watch his goblin companion play with the white winged rat, tickling its belly, petting it all over, cooing as he did. It was an absurd sight. So much love, heaped onto so small an animal. And yet, Garath couldn’t help but smile at it. He settled back into bed, and after a moment’s hesitation, picked up the book again, returning to where he’d left off. 

He read on, in the quiet of the castle, in the gentle darkness. Only a page or so later, His Honor stepped out of the crowd! Hidden behind his mask, none knew the identity of the goblin that interrupted the dance of the prince and Mira—not even she. Yet, when she felt his arms around her, she knew not to struggle, allowing her true love to steal her away from the prince, far away from the ball, into the castle gardens. And there, without revealing his face, without removing his mask, he would place one, single kiss upon those supple lips of her, before slipping away into the darkness, letting her know the taste of his lips, but not his face.

Garath did not want to sleep. It was well past midnight, Buccina was deeply asleep, Cornet in his arms, but Garath did not want to sleep. Not yet. He had to know what happened. How could he rest without the certainty of knowing Mira would find happiness in his arms? 

But he had to. 

Though the goblin would never admit it willingly, Buccina slept poorly by candlelight. He needed the totality of night’s darkness. A single lit candle, even if it may be on the other side of the room, would be enough to leave his sleep restless and fretful. Thus, though Mira tempted him well, Garath succeeded in putting his book aside, blowing out the candle, and letting sleep come to him.

They left early the next morning, to no particular fanfare, with no parade to see their adventure off. The promised provisions were prepared for them, packed into bags that easily slipped around Garath’s ankles. The human Gecko was clearly reluctant to see them off, but nevertheless made a point of giving them a proper farewell, wishing them the customary good luck and telling them to hope for the best. 

Then, with Buccina seated on a harness affixed to his head, Garath set off. 

The first day was a straightforward affair—simply fly north. Once the sun began to set, they settled down in the middle of a forest, taking a well-earned rest. Buccina ate, fed Cornet, and slept, holding the little white winged rat close while Garath remained awake, attentive, ready. 

…Reading his book. 

The next day, following the constellations and the path of the sun, Garath headed towards Loathe Summit. There was only one Loathe Summit—only one mountain range shaped like a resting mumbler. No other existed, and no other would ever exist. There was nowhere else to go.

Nowhere but home. 

A thousand years ago, after they had gained their wings, he and Ferruem had spent their first years there. Dragons didn’t have many. Though a goblin would have called it a short stay, for a dragon, whelphood was the longest period of their lives. 

And now, he would return there. Missing a brother, but… Not alone. Not alone at all.

As the peak of Loathe Summit dawned on the horizon, the falling sun stretching the shadows into long streaks, Garath felt a weight lift from his wings. Soon, he would be home again. 

He never thought he’d return. Yet, there he was. 

By the light of the rising moons and the falling sun, for the first time in a thousand years, Garath could once again say, with his full chest, I am home.