Fiona was half-tempted to portal to the shop, grab Bonnie and Greg, gear up like she was going to war, and pop back in five minutes. But something about bringing a wrecking ball to a place that was Doug's childhood home gave her pause. "Doug, anything we should know about this place?"

He gazed around, awestruck by the stained glass window cut into the stone wall, with sunlight shining through. Emblazoned in the middle was a silhouette of an elven woman with bright red hair, surrounded by several other deities. He pointed to it, one claw held to his chest, almost in reverence. "I remember my mother salvaged this from an old church they slated for destruction. What an act of disrespect. She brought it here painstakingly and had it installed by an archmage friend. She kept a small circle of well-connected friends."

"Do any of them have the proverbial key under the doormat?" she asked cautiously. She felt like the eyes of the presumptive Feo'thari were watching all of them. But the faint smile on the figure didn't convey anything ominous. Nor did the other figures gathered around her on the mosaic.

Doug frowned and pulled up the dragon-sized doormat behind them, a wicker mat that had seen some moldering. There was nothing but dead pine needles."Well, it doesn't hurt to check," he muttered. He motioned them along the hallway, where several doors made of slate stone appeared undisturbed. And locked, as well. "Karlin does know this place well. Dad, too, but…no mention of him in the will, when I read it."

"So what's your dad up to?" Fiona asked, her hammer slung over her shoulder as they walked along the stone tile floor. She found it strange that planters filled with moss-like growth still looked fresh and healthy. She could see a small drip-feed of water from a spigot overhead–wizard plumbing, maybe?

"Don't know, don't care. He was a real terror lizard. The small folk were there to serve us," Doug snorted, and peered at what appeared to be a largely furnished foyer. "Which I find ironic, considering Mom came from Earth."

"Yeah, but didn't all the dragons come from Earth?" she whispered. "At one point or another?"

"Yes, that part is true. However, cross-travel ended on Earth after the empire imploded and terrible events occurred, as I mentioned earlier. So, yeah. Some dragons think they're the top of the food chain. I'd say the state of the various kingdom states tells a different story: one of a mixing pot of various species. Though some areas do have higher instances of elven, or dwarven, and so on."

He motioned them forward, past a library case that towered a good fifteen feet high. "Wow. Aside from some dust? This place looks untouched."

"Tracks go toward the back. They didn't loiter," Lani pointed out. "We should fly ahead, we're faster than Fiona, in case there's trouble."

"You have seen Fiona in action, yes?" Doug asked with a sidelong glance. "She can handle herself."

Lani furrowed her feathery crest, but said nothing. Doug, however, kept snapping his claws gently together, with little sparks of flame forming for brief instants.

They made their way into a commons area, where there was some dragon-sized furniture. Fiona wouldn't mind sinking into the plush cushioning that made up the oversized couch, and the seat was almost at chest height. It was also free of dust, as was most of the place.

Still no sign of anyone here. She looked upward to see if anyone could be hiding up above–dragons did have claws and wings after all. She was somewhat relieved to see dragons had not, indeed, become ninjas in this world. "You think Karlin would camp out here, knowing we'd come looking eventually?" Fiona whispered.

Doug shrugged softly. "Unlikely. We know his possible endgame, but how this place connects…I don't know. I can't believe how well preserved it is. I haven't set foot here in…must be like forty years." He pointed to a pantry that appeared to have been emptied. "We used to keep that stocked with a healthy supply of venison and cattle. There's a little farm at the base of the hills where mom and dad sourced their meals, and a few others nearby."

"How'd your mother lay low?" Fiona whispered.

Doug wore a soft smirk. "Would you ever rat out a dragon as a slaver killing machine? No way, most people would cheer her on."

They made their way along the hallway, and Fiona stopped when she heard a shift of stone nearby. She gestured to a doorway near the end of the hall, and Doug narrowed his eyes. "Storage room. A bunch of stuff we used intermittently. Shall we greet the person who is currently squatting on my property?"

"Ten gold says it's Karlin, too arrogant for his own good," Fiona whispered back. "Doug, you good with some beatings?"

"How do we know it's not a trap?" Lani asked, her eyes darting around.

"Because they're not even being subtle," Fiona answered back.

Doug rolled his eyes. "Fiona, if someone put a sweet roll on a pressure plate wired to a deadly trap, you would grab the sweet roll without a second thought. And then inexplicable luck or elven grace would save your butt."

"That felt like a very specific scenario. Also, what posterior?" she asked sourly. Lani did her best to squelch a laugh, but it sounded like someone trying to strangle a goose instead. They approached the doorway, and Fiona eased it open.

It was a bit of a mess, with wooden crates and chests stacked up, paintings covered with cloth covers to preserve them…and a blue-scaled dragon in a suit with their back turned to them, peering at a keyhole, muttering softly. "Well, this wasn't in the seller's disclosure document," she said to herself.

Not seeing anyone else around, Fiona knocked on the door with her hammer. The dragon startled and nearly jumped into flight, wearing what looked like a charcoal business suit. Unlike Doug, this dragon had a more feminine form, with a more slender face and snout, and delicately manicured claws. "Goodness! Do you always bang on doors like that?!" she said in an agitated tone, one hand brought to her chest.

"Usually, I'm a door kicker? But today we're doing a home tour," she answered. "Who are you, by the way?"

I'm the realtor agent, Maxine Fulbright! This property is up for sale by the owner," she said with a huff, her feathers ruffling at the question. "You're not supposed to be here, either; this is trespassing on private property!"

Fiona nearly dropped her hammer. "I'm sorry. What the shit? The owner is right next to me, Douglas Fierkraag," she said, waving her hand for emphasis. "Doug, the papers, please?"

"Indeed! This is my childhood lair--er, home!" Doug fumed, pulled out the paperwork from his satchel. He placed them out for display to the dragoness, who knelt to examine them. She also pulled out an oversized set of reading glasses.

Seeing a dragon sell real estate still wasn't the strangest thing Fiona had seen on Cepalune.

Maxine peered over the papers, snout agape. "This is…this must be fake! I was given papers by someone else, a rather pleasant gentleman, a few months back! He warned me about fraudsters, given the contention of this property!" She narrowed her eyes at Doug. "You are no dragon, sir!"

"He got tiny," Fiona explained.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"I got hexed by a vengeful witch," Doug snapped, and jabbed a claw at the papers. "I have proof here from the courts of Fiefdala city indicating I'm the inheritor! Who took the claim on this property, dare I ask?!"

"The owner wishes for their name and other details to remain private," she said with a tilt upward of her chin. "Now, you are trespassing, so please leave immediately!"

Fiona glanced at Doug, currently gritting his teeth and looking like he might blow a fuse. She waved a hand in front of him, but he shoved her arm away. "No, Fiona, this is the last straw! Karlin hoodwinked the courts and the municipal administration to get the property? My childhood home?! Over my dead body! No, over his dead body!" he shouted.

"Karlin Fierkraag?" Maxine interjected, looking skeptical. Then, she peered closer at Doug, her snout nearly touching his. He stood there, unwavering, arms and wings folded tightly, and giving her a discourteous snort. Her expression changed as she leaned back. "You do look similar to him…for a kobold. I am aware of the name. He's blacklisted from Fiefdala businesses. Not that he had any at any rate."

Doug let out a surprised sound. "Well then, who else would have a–"

He stopped, stared blankly for a second, then put his claws to his face, groaning audibly. "Tell me it's not my father, Norbert Fierkraag. He shouldn't even have access to this. He walked away!"

Fiona watched anxiously as the dragoness thumbed through her datapad, still looking perturbed. "Well…uh…I know that I was supposed to keep the owner's name private, but…clearly, this is a family feud. I assure you, when they approached my office, everything was in order. But that no longer appears to be the case," she said in a low growl. "My advice: go file an injunction with the court, contesting the will."

"Oh, hell no. I didn't come here to a mothballed home just to leave empty-handed." He pointed to the keyhole in the far wall, with a barely perceptible door set into the stone wall. "This is my property by rights, and the will clearly states it!"

"Is this who gummed up the works for years in the courts?" Fiona asked, wincing at yet another headache they'd have to deal with.

"No, that definitely was Karlin, the first time." Doug scoured over the material while Maxine got on a relay, looking a touch more nervous than before.

Fifteen minutes later, and after being put on hold, she clicked off the relay with a sigh. "For now, I'll assume you're the deed holder. I am so, so sorry about that."

"How'd you get here, anyway? There are no vehicles," Fiona pointed out. The realtor gave her an indignant look and thumbed one claw to her wings. "Oh. Uh, yeah, I don't have those. I am suddenly a little jealous of my winged friends."

"Eh, the perks are there, but it's a workout," Maxine shrugged. "I'll also need a copy of those papers, for verification, Mister Fierkraag."

"Done." He tapped his datapad to hers, and he looked a little less agitated. "Where is my father holed up anyway? We haven't spoken in…a while."

"I don't know that answer. You may wish to inquire with others," she stated. "I have to lock up–"

"Actually, we have a key," Doug interjected. "My mother left me this one. I think that door on the far end of the room is where it goes. We're not going to move in or vandalize the place; there might be something tied to the will in there."

"I'll wait outside then, but please, don't remove any of the property until we get this sorted out." The dragon had to duck a little under the doorway, while Fiona let out a sigh of relief.

"I presume your relationship with your father is…complicated?" Lani asked, her limbs no longer coiled and tensed.

Doug let out a growl of frustration. "Yeah. You could say that." Without further waste, they walked to the keyhole, and Doug inserted the golden key. It turned almost effortlessly with a soft click.

As if in response, the seams of the door frame gave off a brief pulse of blue light, and he pushed it open without any effort. It was dark inside, and he lit up a puff of flame on his hand. Lani shied away from it. "Could you not keep an open flame near the flammable avian?" she gulped.

"You're not gonna catch fire from this," he grumbled. "Stupid dad and stupid spiteful brother…I really hope whatever's in here is worth the headache it's going to be to hunt down my dad for an explanation."

"We could just take the place. It's what dragons do, and I am a dragon in all but appearance!" Fiona grinned proudly. "I'm like the final boss for all the villains to conquer!"

"You're scarier than dragons, Fi. thought you should know that." It did break Doug's mood a little bit. Meanwhile, Fiona tapped her bracelet, and her goldshine ability kicked in, though she muted its power to avoid blinding everyone. The stairwell leading down was narrower than she expected, and twisted around once in a spiral before emptying into a large chamber.

Arcane torches began to light up around the room, and Fiona stopped and stared at what was inside. "It's…It's like a shrine," she said distantly. Doug nodded softly beside her, and Lani made some small gesture with her hand across her chest.

The room was roughly cylindrical in shape, with a tapered ceiling. The rock had been smoothly carved away to form smoothed walls, displaying the rock's natural stratified composition, and was expertly polished. A beam of sunlight came down from a small window above them. Around the room were various fixtures and statues that resembled altars of worship or places of prayer.

Fiona counted them. "There are a dozen gods and goddesses here." Each had a brazier lit with a magical puff of flame…though they burned with different intensities and colorations. "Is this all the gods?"

"No. This is many of the more common ones--or were," Doug mused. She was drawn to the one that looked like a larger version of Doug in his present form–except, not. This female draconoid was a fusion of human and dragon, with elongated ears, feathery features on her arms, head, and wings, and covered in intricate silver scales. Her brazier flickered with a dim green flame intermittently. Fiona nudged Doug and pointed at it.

"Why is that one flickering?"

"I…I don't know." He leaned in closer to examine it. "Gaia. Guardian of Earth. But… she's been dead for…four thousand years."

Two other torches were unlit, and the shadows seemed to loom over them: one was a man with many heads, from various animalistic species; Fiona likened it to a chimera. The other was a shadowy figure wreathed in mist that made the statue impossible to make out. Doug pointed at the chimera. "Rorikand, god of ever-flowing form. Chaos, incarnate." He pointed to the shadowy one and dared to approach. "Not sure on that one..."

He tapped the shadowy mists, and his mark came to life on the back of his hand. He peered closely at the statue, frowning before turning to them. "Ja'duur, Mistress of the night and shadows. Both gods are confirmed dead. No one has seen them for thousands of years, and their worship is incidental, at best."

"And, Feo'thari, in the middle," Lani whispered. Fiona took a step closer, then stopped, hand slacking at her side. She took in the sight of the statue of the elven warrior, a warhammer resting in her hand and balanced on the ground. She was graceful…and elegant.

And too familiar.

"I know I saw paintings of her before...but she has a presence, doesn't she?" Fiona noted that her torch was not out. A few flickers of red flame remained.

Lani examined them in turn, as did Doug, who was beside himself. "She always did. Every image, every statue of her carried an aura about it, inexplicably. Like a persistent calming sensation. This is…why did she keep this here? Even for vile gods like Ja'duur?" he whispered.

"So they wouldn't be forgotten. There's no fate worse than having no one even remember you existed," Lani said softly. She pointed to the other statues–slimes, huntsmen, bird people, and more. "Doug, do you notice something strange about these braziers?"

Fiona glanced at them and took inventory. Two of them were out of place. "Doug. I think I know what she means." Every bit of reading and listening to her historian told her one thing. There was something to be learned here. She pointed at the flickering flames of Gaia, the stoic, and almost serene dragoness, and her brazier.

Doug took her cue, and his eyes lit up. "Fiona…Lani…I think these braziers are some kind of beacon. All the ones currently lit up are live and active gods and goddesses. Ja'duur and Rorikand are dead and forgotten by most. Except…why is Gaia's brazier still lit? And Feo'thari's, as well?"

"Barely," Lani murmured, pointing at the lower flames of Feo'thari. "I also don't see any fuel or arcane circuits…are these just powered by…sheer will?"

"Guys," Fiona drew an uncomfortable swallow. "If Gaia is supposed to be dead, defending Earth from eldritch horrors four thousand years ago…this might be proof she isn't dead."

Fiona couldn't help but feel eyes in the back of her head, and turned to look at one other brazier with a golden flame burning. It was another dragoness, like Gaia, but more severe looking…regal, and sinister, with golden feathers and cyan colored scales. "Who is she?" Fiona asked, narrowing her eyes.

An unsettling, crawling sensation seeped into her spine. She didn't know why, but she had this dreaded feeling that the statue was watching her. Doug stepped to her side and frowned. "The Gilded Empress. Nasty bitch. No one's seen her for a while, in any shape or form. Probably for the best."

"Why's that?" She returned that evil stare back at the statue.

"She's...all about control." He didn't elaborate further. Doug then returned his gaze to the statue of Gaia, shaking his head. "If these statues are tied to the well-being of their respective gods...If Gaia isn't dead, then where is she? I'd ask the same question of Feo'thari, but…given your mark? That might be enough to keep that torch lit."

Lani looked at the statue of Feo'thari, then at Fiona, and tilted her head. "Fiona, call me crazy, but, Feo'thari kinda looks like you. Less energetic, maybe."

"No. She doesn't look like me." Fiona hadn't wanted to say it, but there was another unsettling feeling welling up within her.

"She looks almost like my mom. Even stranger, I definitely had a chat with her, and not with the voices in my head."

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