were as strands of gold, and as Lacrimosa watched them, she gasped. The salvanae flowed to form a ring in the sky, and in the center of that ring, the clouds parted and no rain fell. It was like the eye of a storm. Through her tears, Lacrimosa saw that stars shone between the salvanae. The constellation Draco. Light of dragons. The beams of light fell upon her and Benedictus.
Nehushtan began to sing, a song in an old language, a tune that sounded ancient beyond knowing. His voice was a deep rumble, beautiful like crystals in deep caves, and the starlight moved to the notes he sang. Lacrimosa could see chords of light flowing through the air, notes descending, spinning, and landing upon Benedictus. The music lived around her in light and ancient piety. The other salvanae began to sing too, some in bass, others in a high, angelic choir of light. Lacrimosa wept, for she had never heard anything more beautiful.
The notes of light lifted Benedictus from the mud, and cleaned the dirt and blood from him. Lacrimosa wanted to hold onto him, to clutch him in her embrace, but she had to trust the music. She released her grip, and let the dragon song lift him on its light. He hovered above her, and soon he floated high under starlight, and he was no longer a man, but a dragon, a great dragon with midnight scales, with wings that were no longer torn. Benedictus the Black, King of Requiem, opened his jaws and roared, and the roar shook the land. No fire left his mouth, but starlight that flowed, danced, and sang.
"Hear the Black Fang sound his roar," Kyrie whispered, watching with moist eyes, the amulet clutched in his fist. "Hear the song of Requiem."
Strands of starlight woven around him, Benedictus descended to the earth, and stood by Lacrimosa, healed. His wing was whole now, and his scars gone. He looked so much like the old Benedictus, the great dragon who had led them to war so many years ago. He lowered his head to Lacrimosa, who stood in the mud in human form, and she embraced him.
"Benedictus," she whispered, and she smiled a teary smile, and then she was weeping. There was so much she wanted to say to him. She wanted to speak of Dies Irae torturing her, forcing her to fight in his arena. She wanted to speak of her years in hiding, raising Agnus Dei in the snowy mountains of Fidelium. She wanted to speak of Dies Irae raping her all those years ago, how she did not know who fathered Agnus Dei and Gloriae. Lacrimosa wanted to speak of two decades of horror, of pain and of longing, but she could bring none of it to her lips. Benedictus knew. She did not need to speak, and her smile widened as she cried. She leaned her head against him, and for the first time in years Lacrimosa felt that beautiful light lay in her future, and great love and timeless music.
"Is... your human body dead?" she whispered to him, embracing his dragon head. "Can you feel it within you?"
Benedictus nodded gently. "I can feel it. It's hurt, and it's weak. It will be many days before I dare shift. But my human form lives, Lacrimosa. We can heal it."
Lacrimosa closed her eyes and wept against him.
And then Agnus Dei and Kyrie were embracing Benedictus too, and jumping onto his back, and climbing his neck, and laughing and playing as if they were still children. Benedictus too laughed, a deep rumbling dragon's laugh. Dies Irae took their childhood, Lacrimosa thought, looking at the young ones. Let them be as children now.
Nehushtan watched, and it seemed to Lacrimosa that the old priest smiled. She turned to him and bowed her head.
"Thank you."
Nehushtan too bowed his head. His body hovered several feet above the ground. "Will you return with us to Salvandos, and dwell with us in Har Zahav, the mountain of gold?" he asked. "We have learned today that Vir Requis are noble, and great followers of the Draco stars. Return with us to Har Zahav, and fly with us there in golden clouds."
Benedictus bowed to the priest. "I thank you, Lord of Salvandos. But I must decline. Our home is Requiem, and that home now lies in ruin. I am still king of that land, though it is burned to ash, and I still lead my people, though only five remain. I must stay