Horace struggled to keep his composure. "No, my big brother is Marika's lord..."
The Dragon Lord's two heads could not quite wrap themselves around that, but with his kingly wisdom, he chose to skip over it. "...Then what do you want to use my power against?"
"The Mother of Fingers."
The Dragon Lord froze. What was that?
He stared at Horace. The Mother of Fingers... taken literally, that meant the mother of the Fingers.
Hadn't the god before him been chosen by the Fingers?
"...What?"
"The Mother of Fingers."
Horace repeated, "Metyr. Daughter of the Greater Will. The source of all Fingers."
The Dragon Lord fell silent. He seemed to be recalling the past.
"...I didn't know..."
His voice was even lower than before, carrying complex emotions that defied description.
"My god... never told me."
"Did my god know? If so, why not tell me? And where did my god go?"
The Dragon Lord's voice was quiet, merely venting emotions that had accumulated for so long.
"I waited countless millennia. My god never returned."
"My god never told me there was a mother behind the Fingers."
"My god never told me what the departure was for."
"My god said nothing."
The Dragon Lord lowered his heads.
His posture was less that of a king than an abandoned child.
"So I cannot help you."
"My wounds are too severe. So severe I can barely stand, and even staying conscious takes effort. You want me to fight the Mother of Fingers-I don't know what sort of being she is, but what can this broken body of mine do?"
He paused.
"Besides..."
The Dragon Lord raised his eyes and gazed into the distance.
"I must wait here for my god."
"My god promised to return."
"I refuse to believe that was a lie."