Draco didn't move. The sickly wheezing and coughing was gone. His body was entirely numb. Nyla didn't move either, her body strewn out as if she'd collapsed. Her rider looked similar, laying down with his arms reaching out towards his dragoness. The mark on his hand glowed faintly, flickering brighter and brighter every so often. Suddenly, they both took sharp inhales, twitched slightly, then exhaled and groaned. Draco gasped as his eyes shot open, bright beams of white shooting out from them. More memories funneled through his mind, racing through Nyla's mind also and setting in another migraine. He yelled in agony as his mark burned as bright as his eyes, his energy releasing in pulses to keep from detonating the source.
”They're counting on you, Nudu… they need you.”
“We take this planet, or we die trying!”
“She was my wife! My only love!”
“The Arthanian race will come and come until we wipe them out.”
“DORETA!”
“This is goodbye, my sons… protect each other… and love each other.”
“This plane needs him… he will grow up to be something wonderful. He will be Reku'un Alamonshuor… my son.”
Draco screamed as his body reacted to the memories. Rites of his ancestors channeled into him, morphing different parts of him and Nyla. His left arm turned jagged and crystalline, while his other went ablaze with flames. A long plated tail broke free from his tailbone, a leathery wing sprouting opposite from a more angelic and feathery one on his back. His eyes changed colors constantly, his skull molding itself into different shapes as he rode out the transformations. His feet turned animalistic, bending inward and altering the skin for fur on one while the other thickened with an impenetrable hide.
A roar echoed off of the walls as Nyla's body changed. Her scales peeled away to allow different alloys and elements to replace them. Her wings twitched and spasmed as their structure changed, her auxiliary pair sprouting as her own form was thrown into the mixture of different Rites. A bone grew out in her front leg, pushing through the scales in her elbow to take its place as a pike. Her crests crumbled as more pushed out and broke before newer ones took their place. The pain grew into her tail, its shape conforming to that of different male and female Nera'ak from the past.
As the two took on the forms of past warriors and their partners, the pod began to hum. The buildup of energy was becoming too much, and Figanti had tuned it so it could no longer release the built up energy. It would give Jerosh an easy time finding his younger brother, and with Draco vulnerable there would be no hope of him winning. He didn't know how long the machine could last without venting, but he had no other option. A mere fraction of what it could hold was enough to signal any grown Signa. Releasing it constantly would have been the same as planting an enormous spire beside it.
All he could do was pray his nephew’s Illness passed quickly once it reached the apex of its transition.
And as it looked now, to Draco, it wasn't passing quickly enough.
”Hold this position! Here come the Signa!”
“My forefathers didn't die for us to be defeated now!”
“Yes, I am Makti. But I am also a father. I am responsible for my family as I am for Loki'ir.”
“I may be the first Makti to inherit this power at this age. Let us hope it stays that way.”
“My son… I will always love you. I will always look at you and your siblings with pride. But… when that day comes… when it is your time to inherit the throne… do not hesitate. Do not mourn me, and do not hold guilt or regret. For I will see you ascend to a height I could not reach. And if that is the last thing I should see, it is the most beautiful thing I could wish for.”
“We are Loki'irian, my love. Not human. Not Orkanshen. Or Gangen. We are Her vanguard. Her children. And we will stand for the light when shadows consume this realm of existence. This is our destiny as a species. And every person will live and die with that pride. Knowing it will be our descendants that will declare peace that hasn't been seen in ages.”
“When our race stands at the final battle, we will not surrender until every drop of blood from our bodies has been shed! This is our promise! As Loki'ir! And as Her vanguard!”
He clutched his head as hundreds more spoke, his own thoughts silenced by the sheer number of voices. It was agony. If he could choose between an Illness and living in Tartarus, or Nedafan, he would choose the latter infinitely more times than the former. His head felt ready to explode, and his voice was quickly fading from how much he roared and hollered.
And then, there was silence.
His energy plummeted to near-zero levels, and his eyes stopped glowing. Slowly, the mutations his body went through reverted back to how they were supposed to be. The same went for Nyla. She grunted weakly with every little scale that reformed over her hide, reverting her back to normal. Once their bodies were back to normal, they were silent. They were alive, but anyone who wasn't familiar with Loki'irians would consider them dead. They might as well have been. Their bodies teetered on the verge of shutting down, rendering them brain dead, or maybe killing them from the lack of a heartbeat. Maybe they would suffocate.
But as long as their energy didn't drop to zero, they could sustain themselves.
”Almost, Reku'un… when this is over… you will finish… what I could not…”
“Just I always knew my vanguard would.”