Rolled 49 (1d100)
>>5761205As you stare at the rune-speckled shell of your offspring’s egg, another possible solution occurs to you: the Red Dragon King’s soul.
His spirit is unmanageable in your current state, almost useless to you. What if you were to transfer it into your heir? Your offspring would hatch with a fully-formed Dragon Soul, something even your Serpent Queen’s magic cannot replicate, and the REAL source of your power. The Old King is of your blood, he shares something of your spirit… Perhaps that dream, of the two of you basking in lava, signifies a sort of kinship? And surely he would not turn down a chance to live—to rule—once more?
Of course there is almost no way this wouldn’t destroy or dominate the unborn spirit within—that of your true offspring. You know of no way to force a compromise of identity, or a shared custody of the soon-to-hatch body.
You know what your Serpent Queen would say, of course. She would be all for it, if you gave voice to the idea… Which, in the end, is why you don’t. You cannot do such a thing, nor can you bring yourself to inflict a plague—even a managed plague, with benevolent intentions—upon your offspring in the hopes of favourable mutation. No, you will not risk your heir so frivolously, for minor or cosmetic benefit. No, if you are going to give your heir (your true heir, spawn in soul and body) the best shot at succeeding you and leading your empire into the future, you know what you must do.
“Use the heart,” you sigh.
The Serpent Queen looks to you with surprise, and with avaricious excitement made moderate by a flicker of concern.
“What of your ‘ascent’?” she asks, eager enough to continue her grand experiment yet—touchingly—worried on some level about you.
You remember again the dream, the advice of the Red Dragon King.
“My fire comes from within,” you state, striving to convince yourself as much as your mate. “I was a Dragon Shaman first, before I was anything else. THAT was my path, and it still is: the path of the cultivated Dragon Soul.”
The Serpent Queen regards you skeptically for a time, but then shrugs.
“I have no idea what you are blithering about, of course,” she says. “You sound confident, though.”
“I am,” you half-lie.
“Good,” she says with a rattle of laughter building in her throat, “because I will hold you to it.”
Louder, she cries: “ASSISTANTS! Bring me the HEART OF THE GREAT GREEN DRAGON!”
[Normal chance of failure: 25%. With your aid and biological manipulation ability, that is reduced to 10%. Rolling!]
