Pride had never really recovered from the loss of Nassir. Had he not had Mercurius to go to, he might not have moved forward at all; had Jampa not been born, he would have been lost. Fireheart had been another blow dealt, of course, but Nassir...

The two guardians of the Seven had gone into Hydra. They'd defended those who might have otherwise died--and given their lives to do so. He'd heard tales, after the fact, of their heroism.

Fireheart had been a powerful caster in his own right, and had apparently gone down fighting. But Nassir...

Nassir had never been a fighter. He'd been gentle. He'd been tormented, a soul in pain, and Pride regretted not having gotten to know him better. The worst part, perhaps, was that Pride had had his own burdens to carry--and Nassir, gentle, was one of the only ones who had come to him and offered to help him with them, asking nothing in return. He'd cared. And Pride, in his own pain, had never thought to offer something back. Fireheart he hadn't known well, but Nassir he knew enough to truly mourn--and enough that he grieved not knowing him better than he had.

And he grieved both their losses: the fiery, strong-hearted wolf, with his flaming eyes and gemstone and the heat of his magic, ready to stand and fight any foe; and the sleek black leopard, wise in his insight, kindhearted and self-sacrificing to the end.

And... he had their stones.

Some gemstones in the trial had never been recovered. But these two had, and Pride had held onto them. He'd been weakened when he'd helped Tenzin--and accidentally fathered Jampa; and before that, he'd still been recovering from the creation of Thalia. Now, however, he felt strong enough, at last, to attempt to bring these stones back to life.

But... could he? Each time he had considered it, he imagined that he might fail--and grief had roared through him. And Fireheart's stone... was it right to revive that one, himself? Fireheart's joy had been in flame; Pride could not give his gemstone that.

And the only fire-user he knew, he'd lost track of.

It had taken... quite some time to find him again; even more time to convince him to come here, to leave his den and fly entirely to Orion, to make the attempt.

But luckily it hadn't cost him much. Dread was rather... blatant with his payment preferences, and it was easy enough for Pride to spend a day in Leo forming golden-colored gemstones.

Now he awaited the black dragon's arrival, silent, contemplating the two stones: the clouded, pale quartz of his quiet old friend, and the fiery clinohumite that seemed to spark with inner flame.

The dragon's arrival was met with a flinch, but Pride was reminded why he'd chosen Dread instead of hunting after Dragon. The sheer size, the power--this child would have nothing to fear. Dragon was a father: he wasn't the sort to father a stone and then allow Pride to raise it, but beyond that Dragon was a swamp-hermit, not a thirty-foot dragon. Pride didn't entirely trust him, but Dread-? Dread would grant the child great power (he hoped), hopefully his formidable size, and leave the parenting completely to Pride.

Then again, nothing was set in stone.

But the dragon's question caught him by surprise. He hadn't thought Dread the sentimental type, and he looked back to the stones for a moment in silent contemplation.

"Nassir--the pale one--was... very kind. He was my friend; and he looked after those in need. He was very gentle," Pride said softly. Did Dread care about these things-? He doubted it, but his mind was too clouded by grief right now to care.

Somewhere close by, his familiar--hiding from Dread--reassured him along the link: she still loved him, and she was still alive. He sent her a brief, wry pulse of gratitude, and turned to the flame-hued clinohumite. "Fireheart was a strong fire user, like you. He was quiet, but stoic. Strong-minded. He was always determined to learn more, to do better. They both died defending others in Hydra. And yes-... Fireheart's stone is the one I'd ask you to bring to life, if you can," and Pride felt a clench of fear as he nudged the fiery gemstone gently Dread's way.

What if he fails-? Pride would always blame himself, he knew.

He looked to the dragon, worriedly; but-... No, he'd do Nassir's first, or else-... If Dread did fail, he'd be reviving Nassir's in grief.

And it should be done in hope.

Pride leaned down, closing his eyes, and pressed his snout to the quartz--it escaped him entirely that Dread was respectfully silent during this. The dragon wasn't the most empathetic but he seemed to grasp the solemnity of the moment, at least.

You were a friend, when very few were. You looked after others, before yourself. I would give your stone a second life--I hope free of pain--and family, if you would have it so, Nassir. Thank you... and goodbye.
Mental speech completed, Pride took a breath--and tried to send his magic into Nassir's stone.

To his immense relief, he felt the flood of magic: and he pulled back, taking a breath, and looked at Dread. "Go ahead," he told him softly. His eyes, however, strayed back to the quartz where it lay--where it thrummed with new magic, and where it was already fusing to the stone beneath.

Pride felt his breath catch in his throat.

It isn't working.

Why wasn't it working-? What if Dread failed again--what would happen to the stone?

Was it dead? Was Fireheart's stone well and truly dead?

He opened his mouth, planning to give guidance--but no, Dread had children. He knew how to do this; there was no doubt. "Try again," he blurted, softly, his mouth now paper-dry.

Fear flooded his limbs ice cold.

Relief took him, to the point that he nearly shook.

"...Thank you," he managed, at last, feeling the strange exhaustion of the stress and fear---and the grief he'd been reliving--draining away.

The stones, where they lay, would live. (If Dread were telling the truth, at least.) Nassir and Fireheart would not be reborn, no, but... in their legacy, Pride could teach a new generation their values. Decency, and gentleness. Kindness, and selflessness. Guardianship.

He would tell them the stories of their parents. He would... protect them, as their predecessors had protected others.

Pride glanced up at Dread, again, and nodded; he heaved himself to his feet again, sighing quietly. "Just a moment, Dread," he told him, and then lowered his nose to the ground.

There, he poured out more of his magic--a lot of it, in fact, feeling his power draining rapidly away. He kept some for himself, of course, but what he formed with what he'd spent was impressive: a small dragon, shaped much like Dread, in gold-hued gemstone with wings flared. Then he stepped back, and nodded again.

"For you, as another thank you for coming so far, and doing this," he told him--because at the time, a few random clusters of yellow stone had seemed enough, and now they seemed... so little.

This question, more than Dread's agreement to do this or even his asking after the stone's prior owners, surprised Pride a great deal. He peered up, blinking. "Of course, if you want to," he answered, and couldn't even find the will to be concerned. Normally he'd fear the impact the dragon might have on a child--he was loud, brash and selfish--but thinking on it, Dread's kids had all turned out okay.

And anyway, Pride was far too busy being pleased over the new life the stones had been granted--it was too wondrous a situation to feel anything but magnanimous. "You could--stay for awhile, if you wanted?" he added, after a moment.