SAVE POINT 8

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Rosabella

I trudge among the train cars, all but dragging my boots over the grass, dirt and weaving, metal train tracks. God, they're so heavy.

Like my eyelids.

My head feels hard to hold up, and the world is a blurry, reddened mess through my stilted vision.

My health bar is a constant fixture on the side of my head now, floating, there, mid-air and glowing.

Terribly low.

It pulses.

And my body pulses with it.

Like I can feel the very beat of my life, throbbing—hanging on by the thinnest thread.

I clutch my injured arm to my chest, wincing as I surmount a particularly large rock and jar it—

That's when I feel it.

A warm breeze flutters the ends of my hair past my shoulder, but it's not the breeze. I turn, looking towards the lush side of the forest where huge trees rise, spiraling lime-green torrents upwards, their branches spreading out above like arms extended to the heavens.

But it's not there either.

I shift my weight, looking back at the train cars behind me where the silver-scaled tail of the giant beast still winds, flat and unmoving—crushed under the weight of metal and wheels and my action. I swallow the copper-tasting bile that rises to my throat thinking about it.

But the feeling isn't there either.

...What is it?

If I could just put my finger on it...

I turn.

And it catches me again.

Sweeps me up.

Exhilarating.

Like a breath of fresh air whisking towards me in the wind, diving into my mouth and lungs—reviving me, tingling there...

My eyes lock on a burrow in the ground beside the tracks.

Rocks and dirt kicked up into a pile and a hole left in their place.

Joy's words ring in my ears like a pointed reminder:

> "After you kill the dragon, find its nest—a cave or low spot, somewhere hidden where it keeps its treasures. That's where you'll find the ball of magic. Cup your hands around it and it'll absorb into you...as long as you earned it."

My feet suddenly find the stamina to move faster. Clutching my arm to me, I slide down the ridge, loose dirt rolling downward with the soles of my boots.

The feeling intensifies.

Tingling and sparking in my fingers.

Nearly setting my hair on fire with warmth and joy...

It feels... It, strangely, feels like home.

I trip down into the opening—the hole. The den is dark, and my eyes take a minute to adjust to the dimness, a stark contrast to the blaring sunlight above.

This is not a hole, it's a cave, I realize quickly.

The sound of dripping water reverberates in the narrow space. I duck my head to move further inside. The gray floor is lumpy and hard through the sole of my boots, and the air is damp, nearly heavy with the feeling of water there.

That's when I catch the humming—the pulsing, purring around me like a million tiny pieces of sand vibrating all at once over and under my limbs. The sound and feel are nearly hypnotic.

And I, suddenly, have to squint.

Because the light is blinding.

From a tiny orb.

Hovering amidst piles of golden, glinting treasure.

Coins, necklaces, wheel hubs, swords, silver helmets...all jumbled in falling-over piles where the dragon had stashed it against the walls.

And the orb, hovering above.

Bobbing in the air.

Buzzing and swirling pink and purple and blue underneath a clear, membrane-like bubble.

That's where the feeling is coming from.

Looking at it, my heart expands.

Engulfed with the feeling of hot maple syrup flowing over the organ like a welcome hug.

Warmth.

Safety.

Belonging.

Is this what they call magic? ...And why does it feel so real...so...tangible. Like pure joy? Or peace?

Something sparkles out of the corner of my eye. I turn, distracted by it.

...I squint at its form propped up against the cave wall.

...A sword?

There are a hundred weapons here and piles of gems and valuables...what attracts my eye to this? The weapon has a silver and gold handle with straight, clean lines. It looks lighter than Dormouse's sword...smaller. The blade is so reflective that I can nearly see my face in it. For some reason, I have to touch it. I reach out, my fingers wrapping around the hilt—

A blue box pops up, obstructing my view in the small space:

***Secret Unlocked: Rosabella's Mother's Sword***

I gape at the words, nearly dropping the weapon.

My...mother's sword?

That's not...

I mean, that's not true...

Right?

It can't be true. My mother lives on Earth. Dad had said she'd divorced him.

The message fades, but my shock from it doesn't. A little perturbed, I find a little bit of twine in the messy pile of treasure and tie the weapon to my belt next to Dormouse's sword before looking back to the magic ball.

That has to be it.

That has to be what Callen needs me to collect.

And I step forward.

My cupped hands outstretched—

The ball comes alive, twitching, then, zipping around the room.

Past my elbow—

Back over my shoulder—

My hair blows back from the movement, and I lunge for it—

My fingers collide with the bubbly exterior which explodes into a ray of sizzling sparks as it soaks into my hands with a zinging, wet feeling which makes me quickly swipe my hands on the legs of my bodysuit.

And, then, the magic is gone.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

And a blue box pops up with a trumpet blare.

***Level Passed!***

GAME MAKER ROSABELLA Strength +10 - 15/100 Endurance +5 - 20/100 Agility +2 - 22/100 Intelligence +1 - 46/100 Emotional Intelligence - 50/100 Empathy -5 - 40/100 Determination +2 - 67/100 Prophesy +5 - 15/100 Creator +25 - 25/100

I blink at the numbers, noticing that some of them are higher than the last time I'd seen them...and one lower...'empathy?'

I'd done it.

I'd killed the dragon, and I'd absorbed the magic.

Now, I could fix the group's town, and they could free Dad!

A feeling of freedom washes over me, and I find myself smiling as I hobble back out of the cave and towards the clearing with renewed hope.

...Even if I am bloody and smudged with dirt.

...Even if I still clutch my searing arm.

Because this is probably the best I've felt all day.

***

Something is watching me. I feel a stare on the back of my neck, sending a violent shiver down my arms.

I wrench my neck up, and see it—a vulture circling, the feathers of its huge wings fluttering in the wind and its dark shadow blotting out the sun which was now decreasing on the horizon.

But something about the bird is wrong; the longer I stare at it, the more I'm convinced.

It's feathers are thin and twisted, missing in several spots where raw bone and muscle are exposed. A strange, black and red, pussing growth grows over one eye—

I stumbled forward, back through the brush to the spot where Callen and the group had been before. My foot catches in a gully as I tumble through the brush—

There are shadows there.

I tense to run—

"Would ya look what the cat dragged in?"

All the fight and flight leak out of me in liquid relief; I don't pee myself, but I might as well have.

It's Rainer's voice!

And he's grinning at me, shoving a fistful of his long, brown hair over his shoulder. ...And he's surrounded by the rest of the group.

"One more sword and you'd fall over just from the weight," he jests, nodding at my belt where the weapons are tied. "I see you used the dagger like I recommended."

My eyes dart down to his knife in my belt, now crusted with dragon blood.

"Of course," I lie, attempting an uneasy smile and remembering too vividly how I'd wielded Dormouse's weapon instead when push came to royal shove.

The hulking man doesn't seem to notice.

"Come on," he gestures me off to the side, "Let's clean it—"

"I think my arm needs attention first," I whimper through clenched teeth. The pain is enormous and my fingers are starting to go numb...

"Of course," Callen jumps in, his eyes snapping over to the pink-haired girl, "Joy, give her our health pack—"

"It's the last one left," the girl hisses under her breath; her eyes, dark and worried.

Callen doesn't flinch. His tone only hardens, "Give her the health pack."

Joy lets out a frustrated breath and makes an annoyed show of it as she rummages in Callen's knapsack, pulling out a first aid kit.

I swear I hear 'thinks he knows everything...wasting hard-earned supplies on some yuppie girl...' under her breath.

Her eyes are snapping lava as she extends the health pack out towards me, red, cross side up.

I almost hate to take it from her, the way she's acting, but I reach out for it too. There's an electronic beep, and it disappears in my hands.

The red bar pops into my vision as a feeling of vitality speeds over me like caffeine from an energy drink times 100:

I blink at it.

There's suddenly no pain in my arm.

Cautiously, I move the limb away from my body, bending it. The gash in my bicep where the dragon's tooth had gone straight through is...healed. My health is restored! I stare at the smooth skin there in disbelief.

"...So, you killed it, and the magic absorbed?" Joy pouts—err, questions—me from her annoyed, one-hand-on-hip stance by my elbow.

I turn back to nod at her, "Yeah."

I feel like I owe her twisted expression something. "Thank you," I try, "...for the health pack."

"Whatever," she sours, turning away "it wasn't up to me."

And, just like that, she storms off.

I look up at Callen for some explanation of why the girl's being so moody, but he shakes his head, his lips a grim line, and says nothing.

I struggle with the silence and, finally, decide to busy my hands by untying Dormouse's sword. The cord of the sheath comes off rather easily from around my belt, and I hold the contained weapon out towards the spindly boy, "Thanks. It came in handy."

He smiles at me, shrugging towards the forest where Joy had disappeared, "...She's really not too bad once you get to know her..."

I both wish his statement is true and that I have something to say, but my tongue is all dried up, so I just smile back.

How come I feel incredibly awkward when I just did what they asked of me?

How come Joy is so standoffish when I'm trying to work with them?

...Without that health pack, I'd barely be able to stand for very long... Why was she so adverse to giving it to me?

The feeling of being an outsider slinks back even though we're all standing there in a group.

"What's that on your belt?" Rainer wants to know. I'm glad for the distraction. The man's fingers pull the sword I'd found in the dragon's lair upward so he can look at the blade.

"May I?" he asks, trying to untie it.

I nod.

His huge hands easily unthread the knot, and he tilts the blade up into the dying sunlight. His keen eyes rake over the metal as he turns it over and angles it in the light. I notice, for the first time, that there is an 'R' carved under the blue stone at the end of the handle. The hilt is engraved with so many ornate, swirling lines that I'd missed it before. I watch the man rub his finger over the letter, noticing it too.

"I found it in the dragon's lair," I mention to fill the quiet, "It's strange, but a notification popped up saying that it was my mother's...you don't think that could be true...do you?"

The last part is a whining plea.

Thin.

Uncertain.

Trying to latch onto something...

My eyes dart up to study his face which is straight with any emotion masked.

"This is a beautiful blade," he admires, turning it again so the light reflects off it, "Elven made, precise mother-fuckers they most definitely are. ...Did you know your mother?"

Not the question I'd asked.

His eyes look like a curious test.

A sigh balloons out of my body. "No," I shake my head, "Well, not really. Dad said he and her divorced pretty much after I was born, and I went with him so..."

Rainer throws a look at Callen, but I can't read it.

My eyes flicker between them. ...Am I missing something?

"Come on, we'll clean that dagger," Rainer interjects suddenly, "There's a river down this way." He disappears into the underbrush, and I stumble after him, trying not to think about the blood encrusted blade of Dormouse's sword now hidden in the sheath. He'd forgive me when he went to use it next, right?

The sound of water gurgling and rushing assails my ears as I clamor after Rainer. He's already by the stream, cupping his hands in the gushing flow and throwing it up on his face. I wince, my first question about the water's quality, but it strangely looks exceptionally clean. The waves sparkle over smooth river rock and feed the lush moss growing all around the bank. The glade is sheltered by the shadows of towering trees and filled with cricket song.

I sit down on the soft, greenery-blanketed bank with utter relief as Rainer grabs his dagger from me, fills a curved piece of tree bark with water, soaks a brown rag in the water and begins to clean off the blade with it.

"Never clean your blades directly in the stream," he lectures me as he lovingly wipes crud from the metal, "You don't want to pollute the water unnecessarily. This is an ecosystem. We honor all living things here by taking care of them." The softness of his words and touch on the weapon stops me short. There's almost a tenderness there.

"You're a weapon's guy?" I ask shyly, hugging my knees to my chest and further watching him with his careful work.

He barely even looks up as a smile tugs at his lips, "Yes. I used to blacksmith, make things," he tells me, but, then, his face shadows, "...That was a long time ago."

They've all been keeping so many secrets. I have to know this one.

"What changed?" I prod.

"Life," he says quietly.

But that's another non-answer.

"I don't get it," I state simply, looking at the lines on my hands where dirt is encrusted from earlier, "You obviously love it—"

"We can't create," he says tersely, though not angrily, "Not since the creation magic has been stolen by the dragons."

"But I killed the dragon. I got the magic," I start, excitedly, "I can make it all right again!"

He smiles, but not his typical mirth-filled one; his gaze is far away. "I hope so," he whispers longingly, "I really do."

I get to my knees, eager hope filling my voice, "Let's go. I can make it right for you all now, and you guys can free my Dad..."

But I trail off as I notice Rainer isn't ready to go yet. His expression is shadowed as he dips his rag in the water pooled in the tree bark, offering the fabric to me to wipe off my hands. I take it from him, trying to read his face, "Rainer?"

"It's gonna take more than one dragon's hoarded magic to fix this world," he states regretfully, "I'm guessing Callen didn't tell you about the other two dragons yet..."

Other two dragons?

My face goes pale.

All the energy zaps out of me, "What?!"

"I'm a straight-shooter," he tells me, ducking a glance up, "You'll need 100 Creator points to even have a shot at repairing this mess. That dragon you just killed was—"

"25," I mouth, feeling utterly defeated. I'd seen the number in the blue box. 25 points. "But—"

"In these parts, there's one more dragon who stole 25 points worth of magic, and the other is 50. You'll have to kill them both and absorb the magic for Callen and the rest of them to honor your agreement for freeing your Dad."

Deflated is the worst feeling.

And I, suddenly, feel it in spades.

And fear.

In more than spades.

Like the king of freaking diamonds.

I have to fight and kill 2 more dragons?!

"Rainer? Rosabella?!" Callen's voice rings through the surrounding trees, filled with...fear? His tone is sharp.

Rainer jumps to his feet—rather agile for such a big guy. His face is beyond alarmed as he shouts, "We're here!"

Callen crashes through the brush, his face worried and stern even if his short, gray hair isn't out of place, "We have to move—now. Darken are in the forest."