It was a sunny afternoon, but the light didn’t reach where Demund sat. He lay downcast on his table, suppressing the pangs of pain that threatened to erupt from his chest and out of his mouth. His face felt hot, but his back was cold. His legs felt numb from staying still for so long.
They were whispering behind him. Asking why he was at school, that he should be at home, or expelled. It wasn’t fair. They were the ones who’d begun the problem. And he’d only interfered, but the victim had kept his mouth shut. They called it a misunderstanding. He should have been silent. He shouldn’t have cared. He’d overreacted, trying to be a hero. He’d been delusional.
His pride kept him from leaving even after the bell had rung. He didn’t want to be seen as running away. No one talked to him as they left the class.
Except for one person.
“Hey.”
It was Jothan. Demund kept his face down. “I thought you were going to hang out with Cris,” he muttered.
“Nah,” Jothan said. “I’m done with them.”
“You serious?”
“Yeah? I can’t betray my best friend.”
Demund felt something warm in his chest. Best friend. He’d always thought of Jothan as his best friend but hadn’t been sure if the opposite had been true. After all, Jothan was great at socializing. He’d become so close with the others that Demund had been worried if he was being forgotten.
“If you say so.”
Demund zipped his bag and slung it over his back.
They exited school together and got on their bikes. There were still students around, and Demund thought that their eyes were on him, judging him for what he had done. After all, violence was never favorably looked upon, especially in a society where powers could manifest.
It had begun with small things. Giving Benny less time on the gaming console and making him play the worst character in story mode. Demund liked seeking out those in need. He liked to play the part of a hero. He’d grown closer to Benny—or thought that he had.
So, he’d confronted Cristor—the guy whose home everyone went to play games in. He’d been ignored with a laugh. If it had happened once, it would have been fine. But it happened again and again, and on the fifth time, Demund’s self-control had snapped.
Heroes always acted after three warnings. Five was late by their standards.
It had only been a weak punch. But Cristor’s parents had made a much bigger deal out of it, reporting it to the school. Benny, being afraid to speak, had been silent. Demund had explained the matter as best as he could, but they’d told him that violence was never the answer. He’d been suspended—and was finally back in school.
“You never visited me,” Demund said, feeling a little disappointed in his friend.
“Hey, I did go,” he said, “but your parents stopped me.”
“Oh, what?”
“Yeah, and your phone was off too.”
“My parents took it.”
“Wow. What did you do?”
“Homework. And I slept a lot.”
“Boring. I would have snuck out.”
It gave him relief, seeing his friend act in the same way as before. Then again, the time they’d spent together was too long for it to end that abruptly. But he’d been worried.
“Do you think it was my fault?” Demund asked after a while.
Bullying or not, it was true that he’d acted violently first. It was the first time he’d acted in such a way. Now that he thought about it, Benny’s ‘bullying’ hadn’t been that bad. At worse, it was discrimination. Unpopularity.
“You read too many action comics,” Jothan grinned. “I never expected you to punch him for real. It was wrong. But I wanted to do the same.”
“Really?”
“I mean, he was always showing off.”
“Yeah. He could practice, but he still never went easy on us.”
“I know! And he never shared the snacks that his mom told him to.”
“He only gave it to his close friends.”
“Yeah.”
“Is that why you were acting nice to him? To get snacks?”
“What? I’m nice to everyone.”
That was the day Jothan had taken his side—during the beginning of middle school. They’d become outcasts in a sense, and it became a small joke that they shared. Demund had been proud of it. He’d been silent from then on, focusing on familiar things. He hadn’t bothered making new friends.
But Jothan bounced off rock bottom, soaring higher than before.
By the end of middle school, the punching incident was a thing of the past. They’d all changed for the better. Everyone—except Demund. He’d remained the same old gloomy guy who slept during class. While Jothan had befriended everyone else, Demund hadn’t bothered. And Jothan had invited him plenty of times as well. Sometimes he’d gone, but most times, he’d stayed home with his books and comics and games. Though every weekend, Jothan would hang out with him.
He’d wondered if Jothan had ever regretted his decision of taking his side. Maybe he’d become a burden to him—a kind of moral obligation, taking advantage of Jothan’s kindness. So when Jothan decided to leave for the Preliminary Islands without him, it had felt like a chunk had been scooped out of him.
Feeling Davis’s hands clawing up his body, Demund wondered if this was what Jothan had felt like. Drowning together. Maybe he’d always wanted to escape from him. Going to the Islands would have been the perfect solution. Looking at Davis made him remember everything bad—everything he’d done wrong in middle school. He should have been more sociable. He’d been wretched, and he hadn’t cared.
Would Jothan even want to meet him now? It was already reaching two years. He would have made plenty of friends by now, friends who could become superheroes, friends who were much more outgoing and bright than him. Truthfully, he’d hoped that Jothan would stay with him—as he’d done before. But he’d left, leaving him behind.
He thought he heard someone shout his name. He’d tried to use the last of his mana to lift them both out of the water, but telekinesis on people was something he’d never tried before. Intense nausea filled his head, and his vision turned black.
Why the heck did I act like Jothan again, was the last thought he had before darkness enveloped him.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
“Demund!”
Demund felt something slapping his face. Everything was so bright and blurry all of the sudden. His body felt cold and wet, and he coughed violently, falling to the side.
“Gweehaheeh,” he said, coughing out water.
“He’s alive!” Rhyne yelled. “He’s breathing!”
“Demund?” the president asked. “Demund, can you see me?”
Demund nodded, getting up. “I’m fine.”
“You fainted. That can’t be good. Is your vision okay?”
“Perfectly fine,” Demund said. “I didn’t faint because of the water. I used too much mana.”
“Mana?”
“It’s nothing,” Demund coughed. “Is Davis okay?”
“He’s fine,” the president said with a sigh. “I was worried because you were like a corpse. Thank goodness you’re alright.”
“Yeah, I’ll be careful.”
“How can you be careful about blacking out?”
“I used too much—ah, whatever. Riley, Rhyne. If you use too much mana, you can pass out like I did. So be careful.”
“Got it,” Rhyne nodded.
“So that was what the headaches were all about,” Riley said. “Is it dangerous?”
“Not really. It’s the same as exhausting your energy. No energy, and you faint.”
“You guys are making little sense,” the president said. “Can you get up? Do you want to go to the infirmary?”
“What about the game?”
“The game is over.”
“Then who won?”
“No one. I think we’ll stop here.”
With a glance, Demund realized that everyone else was still in the area, looking in their direction. The teachers were arriving as well.
“How long has it been since it stopped?” Demund asked.
“Not even a minute.”
“We can’t ruin the festival like this. Where’s my hat?”
Demund hastily wrung his clothes and adjusted his shirt. His beard and coat were gone, but it mattered little. “The game must continue,” he muttered, failing to find his leg to stand on. “I need my leg.”
“You passed out. Stay down.”
It was the vice-president who’d spoken. She’d arrived with the teachers—more specifically, Ms. Clarn, who knelt and began to examine him. Her hand glowed with greenish light, and a kind of faint glow swept over his body.
“You need to rest,” she told him. “What were you doing? You can’t jump into the water with a coat on. Who allowed this to happen?”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Clarn,” the president said sheepishly. “I got permission. I thought I could handle it.”
“And he did,” Demund agreed. “It didn’t take him a minute to fetch us out. And I think I feel fine.”
“A minute! You can die in a minute!” Ms. Clarn fussed. “Demund, to the infirmary right away.”
“Wait, but the game—”
“It’s over.”
“I’ve suffered worse before.”
“I don’t think you understand how tired your body is right now.”
“What? I can walk perfectly—”
Demund tried to get up on one leg, but just as he did, his head spun like the blood was rushing out, causing his vision to blur. Suddenly, his body felt terribly cold. He landed on the floor on his hands, shaking and feeling sick all over, wanting to puke. And he did—heaving water all over the pool floor.
Ah, well that sucks.
It wasn’t painful. But it was uncomfortable. After all he’d endured in the other world, he’d believed that something as minor as this wouldn’t have affected him. But the truth was that his real body was weak. He’d exhausted his mana, and it was coming to bite him in the neck. After all, he’d never forced himself to go beyond his limits. There had been no need to, and when he had, his head had felt like splitting apart.
The pain wasn’t here yet, but his head felt light. Before he realized it, he was staring at the ceiling while blurry faces moved over his body. There was a dull sensation of his body being moved. His eyes closed by themselves, and his memory stopped there.
When he regained consciousness, he was staring at a different ceiling, one that was much closer and whiter. The familiar smell of disinfectant lingered in the air, and he groaned, turning his head. His whole body felt weak.
Well, that was two festivals he’d affected. He’d almost canceled the first one because of his accident. And now, the second one had come to a stop because he’d fainted. Had he not dove in to save Davis, the president would have found him anyway. Why had he tried to be a hero?
Why had he tried to be like Jothan? There was nothing good that had come from that. Even in the other world. He’d felt good about it at first. But the results were not what he’d expected. The best form of gratitude he’d received was from those at the Wall of Arrows, and he’d gone there not because of goodwill, but as a punishment.
“Hah, this sucks,” he sighed loudly.
“Well, sorry.”
Demund turned his head. A little ways from him, Davis lay on a bed as well covered in a blanket. His eyes were red like he’d been crying—no, drowning. Demund rolled his eyes internally and leaned back against his pillow.
“If you can’t swim, why did you even participate?” Demund asked. “And I was trying to pull you up. You could have killed us both, dragging me down like that.”
This time, Davis didn’t reply. There was a long moment of silence before Demund opened his mouth to grumble a bit more.
“I heard you talking with Edan in the bathroom a while back,” he said. “It sounded like you were getting beat up.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Cut the crap. I know how you’re treated. I tried to help. Even today.”
“No one asked for help,” Davis muttered.
“What the heck?” Demund demanded, getting up. “I don’t understand. Are you getting paid or something?”
“Who knows,” Davis replied.
Demund wrinkled his forehead. “Now that I think about it, you were spying on us for Edan as well. Trying to copy my magic, right? How’s that working out for you?”
Davis’s ears visibly reddened, and he refused to look him in the eye.
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“I don’t really care,” Demund continued. “Do what you want. Live as Edan’s slave.”
“It’s not like I want to live like this!” Davis exclaimed. “You wouldn’t understand. You have everything you need. You’re even getting a scholarship. Me? I wouldn’t even be in this school if it wasn’t for Edan. You know, people who aren’t from the Islands or prestigious schools get crap jobs when they grow up. I’m enduring all of this—this shit to make! A better future!”
Davis seethed with emotion, his entire face getting redder as he spoke. “Yeah, I’m Edan’s slave, dog, whatever you call it. But don’t you dare report it to the teachers. Help? Hah! Help me by paying for my tuition then!”
He spat his last words, burying his face into his pillow. Demund sat there, shocked, processing what he’d heard in his mind.
“That’s—that’s not right,” he said, blurting the words. “Why can’t you go to a public school?”
“Did you hear what I just said?” Davis groaned.
“Yeah, but public schools aren’t horrible.”
“You can’t make a decent future like that. Isn’t that why you’re studying? You’re being hypocritical.”
Demund blinked. He hadn’t particularly thought about the future. He’d been trying his best to overtake Enariss, so he wouldn’t feel bad for being her friend when he lacked so much. With her gone, he was studying out of habit.
“College is more important than high school,” Demund said.
“Yeah, and to get into a good college, you need a good high school.”
“Not really? You need to do well on the standardized tests.”
“And have good grades. Why did you come to TISE High then, huh?”
“Well—it was close by. And they had a facility to train powers, which was cool.”
“Seriously? See! Look how easy your life is.”
“I mean—”
Memories of the other world sped by Demund’s mind. The pain, the frustration, the quarrels. The burnt bodies and mutilated limbs, the scent of blood and the taste of cooked flesh in his lungs.
But had it been a difficult life? He’d been numb through the process, enduring it with the limitless power at his disposal. It hadn’t scarred him. It hadn’t changed him much. Only now was he struggling to change through revolting and domination.
“I earned my scholarship,” Demund finished.
“I bet your power helps you study,” Davis guessed. “Did you get your scholarship from the beginning?”
“Partly. They have funding for the poorer students. Did you apply?”
“Yeah, but you need to pay the initial fee.”
“My parents probably paid that.”
“I had to move thousands of crates to get the money,” Davis grunted.
“Huh.”
“I’m used to pain,” he grunted. “When Edan kicks me, I don’t feel a thing. There’s a reason why I’m his punching bag.”
“Because of your ability.”
“Yeah.”
“But you said you don’t want to live like that.”
“You think anyone wants to? Just because I don’t feel it doesn’t mean it feels okay.”
True, Demund thought. Thinking back on his experiences in the other world, there had been many things he wanted to do differently. Being unsure of the environment, he’d limited himself.
“Get a full scholarship then?”
“I have good grades, yeah. But they only give the full scholarship to one percent of the students. And you’re one of them. There are like, what, max two hundred students?”
“Oh.”
Davis punched his bed. “There’s nothing you can change. I heard that the higher ranked your power is, the smarter you are. The SAP particles improve you. My power is useless.”
“I mean, it’s helping you.”
“Take a beating, yeah.”
Demund tried to look outside of the windows, but the curtains had been drawn. He pulled them away, letting the sun come into the room. The sky was already turning into a deep shade of orange, though in the distance, he could still see many students walking about.
“Where’s Ms. Clarn?” he asked. “I should get going now.”
“Oh yeah, she told me to let her know when you woke up,” Davis remembered, taking out his phone.
She hung up after a short talk. It was then that Demund realized that his clothes had been changed to the ones he’d originally been wearing. Had Ms. Clarn changed it? No, it must have been his friends.
They would have seen his leg stump. It looked gross up close.
“I never knew you could talk so much,” Demund commented. “You should do that more.”
“Punching bags don’t talk,” Davis muttered.
“Well, at least in the Magic Club?”
Davis scowled. “I do talk. No one listens.”
“Talk louder, then.”
“Wow, why didn’t I think of that.”
Demund breathed in deeply. “I’ll listen.”
It seems like I’m still trying to be like you, Jothan.
“Forget it, I don’t need your pity,” Davis muttered, turning away. “I’m going to succeed at the end of this.”
“Enduring it alone doesn’t help,” Demund told him. “Should I be honest with you? I didn’t really like you. I don’t like you that much now either. You lied and made me look like a jerk in front of everyone.”
“Well, sorry.”
“But at least you weren’t trying to be a jerk,” Demund finished. “Whatever. Do what you want. You’ll be better off than a cripple like me, I guess.”
Davis didn’t reply. He kept his face away from him. Just then, the door opened, and Ms. Clarn came in with Riley and Rhyne—along with Alina and Kacy for some reason. Demund raised a hand to greet them and said,
“Yo.”
“What were you doing?” Alina exclaimed, stomping up to him. “You could have died!”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“I called your parents,” she stated, crossing her arms. “They’re so worried. They’re coming here right now to pick you up.”
“Now?”
“You’re going to the hospital with them,” Ms. Clarn said.
“The hospital?”
“Fainting isn’t a good sign, and you fainted twice. How are you feeling right now?”
“I feel fine, just a little tired,” Demund coughed. “But the hospital? Is it that serious?”
Ms. Clarn placed a hand over him, and the green light enveloped him once more. “It’s better now. It was very bad before. I can sense your vitality, and it looked like you were depleted the first time I examined you. But there was nothing wrong with your vitals, so I found it strange. You should go to the hospital.”
“I’m telling you that it’s because I used too much mana. It’s like your life force.”
“Is using it dangerous?”
“No! It’s the same thing as SAP and superpowers.”
“Superpowers don’t make you faint, Demund,” Ms. Clarm informed. “When you run out of energy, it simply stops working. What you’re doing is different.”
“I know, but haven’t you read hero biographies? Some people can go beyond their limits—”
“And kill themselves,” Kacy finished.
Everyone turned to look at her. She looked up, suddenly surprised by everyone’s stares. “Oh, sorry. I was talking to myself.”
“Death isn’t common,” Ms. Clarn said. “But losing one’s power is much more likely. There is something you can break if you aren’t too careful. Yes, normal people don’t come close to breaking their limits, much less reaching them. But your power—your magic seems different.”
“It’s not dangerous,” Demund pleaded.
“I know,” she nodded. “But I want you to put it on hold for now. Just a month or two, okay? Until we know for certain that it isn’t harmful to anyone.”
“If anything, it feels like using magic strengthens our powers,” Rhyne said. “There’s this flow I feel inside of me, and using magic makes me focus them more.”
Demund’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
Rhyne nodded. “Yeah. And when I use my power, I can feel it more clearly. It felt automatic before, but now it’s more manual. Like breathing.”
Everyone forgot how to breathe automatically at that moment, but the thought was quickly forgotten.
“I know what you’re saying,” Riley said, “but Ms. Clarn is right. We can take a break. If it’s safe, no problem. I’m pretty sure it’s safe.”
“I can’t stop you from practicing secretly,” Ms. Clarn said, “and looking at how quickly you recovered, it doesn’t seem hazardous. But the school wants to be safe. I’m sorry, but the Magic Club will be put on hold as of today.”
“Is it because of what I said?” Demund asked. “Because I said that using too much mana will make you faint?”
“It’s not your fault,” she told him. “The school wasn’t sure whether or not teaching others would work. Now that they can see that it is possible, they want to be safe.”
“Yeah, Demund,” Rhyne said, patting his back. “We can still practice at my house.”
Ms. Clarn frowned.
“And by practice, I mean practice problems,” Rhyne laughed nervously. “Since we have tests soon.”
“But we don’t have a club room now,” Kacy noted.
The room seemed to grow dimmer when she said it, and it only became worse when Rhyne added, “And the funding too.” He’d grown accustomed to their new room. It had been so short, and they were already being kicked out.
“It won’t be long,” Ms. Clarn smiled. “I’ll try my best to convince the school. But for me to do that, I need confirmation that your magic is safe.”
“That’s why I’m going to the hospital.”
“Yes. It was going to happen sooner or later.”
Demund nodded. It wasn’t a big deal. He was very, very sure that his magic had no ill consequences. Besides, the spells he was teaching were too minor to cause any serious harm. If he was lucky, he was sure that the club could be remade within a month. But the problem lay somewhere else.
He glanced over at Davis who was still lying on the bed.
“Davis,” he asked, “what are you going to do now?”
Davis turned his head around to look at them. “Me? What—about me?”
“The club has disbanded.”
“Oh. That’s bad.”
He wasn’t speaking much now.
“Are you going back to the MMA Club, then?” Rhyne asked. “They don’t treat you fairly, do they?”
“They treat me just fine,” Davis said.
It was a fortunate stroke of luck for Demund when his parents entered the infirmary at that moment. He’d been wondering whether or not to invite Davis to their group but hadn’t been sure if his friends would be fine with it. Besides, he preferred not to have Davis in the group. If he was going to live like that, he could.
It's not my fault he lives like that, he decided. It wasn’t Enariss’s fault that he was crippled.
His parents rushed him to the hospital despite him telling them not to worry about it. He was run through some quick tests, even one with the SAP scanner—and if there was something different about his condition, it was that his SAP rank had risen to a C. That, and that the flow of SAP within his body was more turbulent than before.
“It’s strange,” the doctor commented. “Your son is fine, but I don’t understand why his measurements are this different. It usually increases at less than half the rate. I am no researcher. The world of superpowers is large and undiscovered. You could apply to a discovery program.”
“But there’s nothing unsafe, right?” Demund asked.
“Yes. Your body is perfectly healthy.”
The problem now was convincing the school that his magic wouldn’t harm other powers when used. He could see now that they hadn’t disbanded the club because they were truly worried about their well-being. They likely didn’t want to carry the responsibility if something did go wrong. But for now, there was no certain way of being sure that it was safe.
How exactly did magic interact with powers? How did powers work anyway? He could guess that powers were kind of like blessings. Once you got it, you were stuck with it. Like the Guardian’s Curse, you couldn’t get rid of it through normal means.
Which probably meant that using magic would be fine. As much as he disliked the thought, his friends would be the test subjects.
A discovery program. You could explore and analyze your power through it, but they were expensive and were billed by the hour. Perhaps the school would pay for it. Then again, it would waste so much time.
Once he was back home, he let his friends know that there was nothing wrong with him. They planned to move their things from the club room on Monday, deciding to meet at Rhyne’s house for their next ‘study’ meeting.
And no one—not a single person mentioned Davis. So Demund decided to forget about him. He felt a little bad. But the guy was unapproachable.
Hadn’t he done enough? He wasn’t his problem anymore.
He couldn’t be the hero Jothan had been.
⤙ ◯ ⤚
“When spring comes.”
“When spring comes,” Shaden agreed. “I’m getting tired of waiting. I believe we tested out everything we can.”
“There is nothing such as being too safe,” Boren said. “What will our excuse be?”
“My sister’s birthday,” Shaden answered. “It’s the twenty-third day of the second month. As for you, we’ve become good friends, haven’t we? You simply wish to see where I grew up.”
“That is fair. What else are we missing?”
“Let’s see…”
Shaden tapped on Danark on the map and moved to circle Raconel to the north. “The main problem is how the Guardian will react. Will he chase us to Danark or head towards the forest? Or will he simply stay in the capital?”
“Does it matter where he goes as long as we make it into the Forest? I still don’t understand how going to Danark will allow us to go to the Forest.”
“It’s similar to teleportation. I’d like to keep it a secret until then.”
“So be it. Even if you fail, it will be a good vacation.”
“Isn’t every day vacation for you?”
“I have my princely duties to attend to if you haven’t noticed.”
He’d noticed. After all, one form of testing out his stealth was hiding and spying on those in the castle—though he’d been advised not to do it. According to the prince, it was frightening how suddenly appeared out of nowhere. If the prince, who could partly use the Guardian’s powers through his kindred, couldn’t detect him, there was a chance that the Guardian wouldn’t be able to as well.
The safest way of testing his stealth was under the guise of observation. The prince would ‘observe’ his flow of magic while he snuck out of the room, flew around the palace, then came back, undoing his stealth. For anyone else who was keeping an eye on him, it would have looked as if he’d disappeared and reappeared in the same location. That was why it would be suspicious if he did it elsewhere, which was why he was advised not to do it.
The Guardian had been surprisingly uncaring. He’d seen the dragon once so far—the first time he’d been summoned. Aside from the time when he’d changed the weather, the king hadn’t called him either.
There was the possibility of them spying on him through the curse. Boren’s dragon could be a clone of the Guardian, watching their every move for all he knew. But so far, so good.
“Tell me about your sisters,” Shaden asked. “I may go meet them in the future.”
Boren furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head. “My sisters? They are in the Empire as of now. You are planning to go there?”
“Next year,” Shaden nodded.
“Will being outside of the Forest not be dangerous?”
“I have plans.”
“Plans…”
Boren leaned back on the roof, gazing out into the city. “My sisters are kind. They do not wish for much. Rayel—she grew up as the youngest before Valencia. You would know that the youngest lives the shortest life. After her sister was born, Rayel was nothing but a loving sister to Valencia. I suppose we are happier than the princes and princesses of other nations. We do not compete for power. We know our purpose, and that makes us enjoy the little things those in our position cannot see.”
Boren chuckled. “Or so I think. It feels terrible to have a deadline. You live with constant dread. But Rayel never showed such fear. She’s a better person than I am, I would say. She’s a true princess. Loved by the people, kind to the wretched. I’m sure many will miss her when she departs.”
“I thought you could feel each other’s emotions through your dragons.”
“Yes. That makes us all the more closer.”
Boren looked down sadly. “The truth is that Rayel has already accepted her fate. Even if she were to die tomorrow, she would wave goodbye with a smile.”
“Do you want to save her?”
“If only I could. But even if I took her to the Forest, she would return to fulfill her role as a princess. Many say that there has been constant peace in Melern because there are no remnant royals who wish to misuse their power. If I were to survive, only scorn would follow.”
“You don’t sound so sure about escaping.”
“I’d like to think of it as a final struggle for my life, however foolish it may look. Don’t worry; my determination is strong.”
The prince patted Shaden’s head. “As for Valencia, she’s your age. I have a feeling that you two would get along well. She’s bright like you and learns very quickly. It’s adorable to see her dissatisfied when she learns that she knows less than us. But what choice does she have but to remain the most unknowledgeable? There are ten years between her and Rayel.”
His expression sank again. “I presume that she will not live to reach my age,” he said quietly. “But there is less fear in her than me. It’s good that she acts like the youngest. We spoil her very much.”
“So she may be a little bratty.”
“Bratty! Not at all. Adorable is the correct word. She takes after Rayel. All of the men in the world would give their hands to merely earn a chance to have tea time with them.”
“That sounds like an overstatement.”
The prince laughed. “Perhaps. But given their limited time in this world, would it be?”
“By that same logic, all of the women should be lining up for you.”
“Ha! I could see that. But I prefer to be treated as a fellow man than as some kind of divine artifact held on a pedestal. I would like to have been born as a commoner.”
Judging by the number of times they had visited the streets disguised as normal people, Shaden knew that the prince truly meant what he’d said.
“Would you become a commoner if you could?” Shaden asked.
“If I could lose my memories, I would,” Boren smiled. “But there are too many things I know now. I’ve come to love the things in my position too much.”
Something about the prince’s answer made Shaden’s head ache—no, it wasn’t his head. Something inside of him ached, but before he could put a finger on it, it vanished completely.
“Then, should we head back?”
A glow appeared beneath their feet, and after a feeling of light-headedness, Shaden found himself back in the palace’s garden. The sun was fading, casting a golden glow onto the trees and flowers. Markendrath was there, yawning broadly.
“Thanks, Mar,” Shaden said, wanting to pet the dragon. He’d asked once but had been informed that it would be the same as petting the prince himself. The dragon made a soft growl, accepting his gratitude.
They wouldn’t teach him teleportation magic, the main reason being that he was too young. The magic was deadly if used incorrectly, and the potential to cause destruction with it was too great for a child like him to possess. Besides, it would take a lifetime for a human to learn how to teleport. Boren was only able to warp because of his dragon. The majority of teleportation spells were not cast through human means, but through inscriptions and formulas, each having to be very specific to a certain location. The mana consumed would be incredible as well. Outside of Raconel, even Boren wouldn’t be able to jump around so easily.
Still, teleporting. How could he not learn it?
He looked at his hand. A faint shadow slithered like smoke on his fingers, retracting back right after.
The shadow had to have a connection with the black portal trees. The dagger it had come from had been the key. Could the shadow also act as the door?
He had tried to store items in the shadow. He’d only succeeded in crushing said items, failing to send them anywhere.
But it could consume magic. Where that magic went, he had no idea.
“I’m counting on you,” Demund said softly. “It’ll be do or die.”
The shadow didn’t respond.