Before him, Rith soared down to a huge ruined structure. Once it had risen multiple stories. Now it was a rubble pile. Sections of marble column lay among shattered friezes. Terra cotta bosses and torn tapestries and mosaic tiles and bodies-plenty of bodies in bloodstained robes.

A temple? Darigaaz wondered.

A kind of temple. A temple to knowledge. This was once the single greatest library on the face of Dominaria, replied Rith grimly.

Rhammidarigaaz studied the wreckage. A library? Where are the books?

Rith nodded her head toward the street. Huge black circles showed where numerous bonfires had burned.

The greatest library on the face of Dominaria… and they destroyed every lost book.

Yes, but they did not find the library's greatest treasure, Rith said as she settled down atop the rubble pile.

Furling his wings, Rhammidarigaaz landed beside the green dragon. Four more beasts came to ground with him, including the resentful black dragon who had replaced Rokun.

Darigaaz turned a level stare on her. He would have to watch her. Swamp dragons were natural traitors. He shook the thought away. Already, he was thinking the way Rith did.

"Dig," Rith said simply, interrupting his reverie. "All of you, dig."

Rhammidarigaaz stooped, grabbing hunks of stone in his massive claws and hurling them aside. The black beast lashed her tail once, and then she set to work with a vengeance. So too did the rest, even Rith.

Darigaaz ignored the others, lost in his own thoughts. With each cornice he grasped, he imagined the walls it had once joined. With each shattered shelf, he read the books that once loaded it. With each body, he lived lives lost.

Rith had awakened something primal in him- something that stretched back beyond his own millennium of life. At first, he had thought it only instinct, but this was more than race memory. This was a longing for former days, when the world was young and humans were only scurrying rats. Then dragons had ruled. In that half-feral mind, Rith's words made utter sense.

The dragons uncovered a wide marble stairway that plunged away through more piles of rubble. They followed it down into darkness. The library had fallen into its basement, but there was a subbasement below it. In only a few places had its ceiling given way. Rith drove them on. They dug deeper. At the fourth turn of the stair, they reached the end of the debris. Another sub-basement lay below. With wings tucked, the dragons slithered down through the darkness. More turns revealed a third and fourth level. At last they reached a deep vault.

Humans could not have seen anything in that dank space, but dragons saw the cold air that dragged away from musty walls. They glimpsed the chill drafts that danced like dark spirits across the floor. And in the center of the space, at the precise junction of the building's transepts, they saw that the floor glowed with unnatural warmth.

"What is it?" asked Darigaaz.

"Who is it, you mean," replied Rith. On all fours, she stalked slowly toward the spot. "Everything that mortals have, they stole from us. First, they stole dominion over fire, which they used to capture the Primeval of Shiv. Next, they stole dominion over plants-what they call agriculture. With that power, they imprisoned me in Yavimaya. Their greatest weapon they gained next, dominion over words. Stories, histories, sciences-writing is the magic that allows the dead to instruct the living. Books are no less than the memory of the world. Once mortals tapped that memory, they knew exactly how to trap the third Primeval." Her voice was quiet but imbued with a barely contained rage. "She is Treva, and she lies pinioned beneath the foundation drums of this library."

Darigaaz had crept near enough now to make out the shape of the warm silhouette on the floor-unmistakably that of a dragon.

She was buried deep within the lime mortar of the floor. She had been crucified. Her forelegs were stretched out unnaturally beneath a pair of massive pillars. Her hind legs were similarly splayed. Her tail formed a large curve beneath the feet of the dragon lords. Her head jutted into the apse beyond. A pair of wide, graceful wings swept into each transept.

Darigaaz glanced up to the sweating ceiling. "This level is older than what lies above.”

Rith smiled in the darkness. "Perceptive. Yes, this level is the first library, in fact a monastery, no larger than these crossed transepts. It was leveled and rebuilt in the time of the Thran. That library was destroyed in the cataclysm of Yawgmoth. A university then took this site, only to be destroyed in the Argoth event. So have passed the ages. Knowledge comes and goes, but the foundation of knowledge-" she spread her claws toward the warm silhouette-"remains."

Staring at the shape, Rhammidarigaaz said, "Yes, but how do we free her? You escaped your prison only after Rokun was-only after I slew Rokun. I am not willing to make such a sacrifice again."

There was murmured agreement among the other dragon lords.

Rith purred casually, "Oh, you needn't worry about sacrifices. I know the ancient sorceries." Her teeth glinted in the murk. "Even so, I need your help. The spell requires black mana, to break the grip of death, and then green, white, and blue mana to restore life. You, the dragon lords of swamp and forest, plain and sea, must tap the magical power of your homelands and bring it here, into this place.

Then Rhammidarigaaz will unleash a red-mana spell to cut through the floor beneath us. Once Treva is revealed, I will channel the mana you have drawn to awaken her."

"That much power could bring the ceiling down on us," Darigaaz objected.

"The other four may stand safely clear, beside the pillars, in case the ceiling comes down. You, though, Rhammidarigaaz, must stand beside me, risking all."

The black creature snickered. "Rhammidarigaaz would risk anything for the good of the dragon nations."

Darigaaz scowled. Rith was singling him out, perhaps intending to use his life force to power the spell.

A hiss came from the black dragon. "Or is Darigaaz willing to require the ultimate sacrifice of Rokun, only to shrink from danger himself?"

"No," Darigaaz replied levelly. He strode toward Rith. The floor felt hot beneath his claws. Treva's power seeped up his legs and into his heart, bringing a fierce longing for ancient times. "I will do it."

Rith extended a welcoming claw toward him. She gripped his talon. Small sparks leaped between their fingers.

"Good. You can trust me, Rhammidarigaaz. Do you feel the power between us? It will be sufficient." Raising her voice, she spoke to the others. "Spread out equally around us, facing forward, and remain in line of sight."

Hissing happily, the black dragon withdrew beside one of the four drums that held up the vault. The three other dragon lords took their places beside the other drums.

"Excellent," Rith said. "Now, to begin the spell, you must tap the power of your homelands. Concentrate. Draw the mana into you."

The air in the chamber changed. There came a smell of lightning. Power crackled. Beside the four pillars, the dragon lords glowed. Energy cascaded through their blood and lined out their arteries. It limned every scale. It shimmered across horns and teeth and even poured from eyes. Visions of deep forests and deeper oceans mixed with scenes of fetid murk and fecund field.

"Cast your spell, Rhammidarigaaz," Rith said quietly.

The power mounting in him lashed downward. Crimson rays surged from his splayed claws. They struck the floor and burned through. With precise lines and jags, Darigaaz traced the heat-silhouette beneath his feet. The beams bit deep. Lime mortar cracked over the silent form.

Rith bowed, pulling up hunks of the loose material and flinging them away. Piece by piece, the Primeval was uncovered. Her wings were manifold, formed of featherlike scales. Her limbs and belly plate were as white as chalk. Her throat and forehead were mantled in gleaming pinions.