As our heroes continued their struggle to liberate Tragoria, let’s go back to Main and see how things went on with the former light dragons.

One week usually felt like a trivial time for them. In fact, it was relatively negligible, at least in the Void between Realities. They could easily travel back in time, or even forward, all without any complications or any concerns to their health.

However, that was all in the past. They were no longer that being. They were simply…there.

They were mortals.

Seraphor had not felt something like a linear progression of time in a very long time. His captivity in Qeveriyt, along with the process of turning him into a new Source, felt like an eternity. Was it a hundred year? A thousand? Hundreds of thousands? He wasn’t sure. What he was sure about was the state of Qeveriyt itself. Unlike him, the trapped city and its denizens devolved after so many years. They became mutated, no longer what they were before they were taken out of time. Seraphor could only watch as the normal people of Earth slowly became grotesque parodies of their former selves, a horrific sight that happened slowly and painfully.

Was it the light dragons’ way to torment him? There was no way to find out now.

The Thread was cut. He was no longer with the Source. In fact, he was no longer a light dragon, based on what his friend told him.

“The healers concluded that you’re not any different from the other dragons,” said Alverian after Seraphor asked about the results. “Ashaire, too, is a dragonborn much like Mr. Long.”

“So, I’m just a normal dragon?” asked Seraphor.

“There is one thing that makes the three of you different, and that is your magic. Your magical element is light. Pure light. My mentor once told me of the legendary element of light that is said to be the raw form of magic. That raw form of magic is, as you know it, mana particles. And, given what we knew from the recent invasion, light magic is…”

“The same with Aetherium,” concluded Seraphor.

“No, not exactly. Only on a certain wavelength,” said Alverian. “Which is impossible to achieve because, well, you’ll have to destroy your own body to reach that point. Also, light magic is harmless, but on the right hands, it is as devastating as other elements. I think you are capable of that.”

“Yeah, well, nobody’s going to like me using the same thing that harmed them.”

“Is that how you disguise yourself as a fire dragon? Disguising it as a sun-based magic?”

Seraphor chuckled. “Guilty as charged.”

“And you fooled me for years,” said Alverian with a smile. “And to think I spend my time researching on how you don’t show any trace of magic even though dragons are magical creatures.”

Seraphor silently let out a toothy grin out of his draconic face before he tried to raise his body. He let out a disappointed sigh as he realized that half of his body was still paralyzed. With his wings reduced to its digits with no indication that he could grow new wing membranes, he had no mobility left. He could easily teleport, but that would not look great on the people who were still traumatized by the recent attacks. He could try and use his enduring reputation to get around that stigma, but he had a feeling that it might backfire.

The thought of recent attacks made him turn to Ashaire, who was still in a coma ever since they escaped the Altered Reality that was Seraphor’s prison. While the dragonborn attacked Dracokin to keep up the façade of being a light dragon, Seraphor was worried that his old friend did it a bit too well.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Alve,” started Seraphor. “How bad was the damage Ashaire did to Dracokin?”

“Not as bad as the first light dragon,” said Alverian. “If you’re talking about casualties, there were injuries, but deaths were surprisingly low. The soldiers he attacked in the barracks had head injuries, but they weren’t fatal. Sure, they fell into a coma for a week, but they woke up afterwards. The dragons he attacked sustained bruises and broken ribs, but not dead. The worst he did was levelling the spires and buildings due to Mr. Long’s intervention.”

“So, he’s clear on that regard?”

“Not if you include the buildings. Property destruction is still a crime, you know. Also, deaths were low, but not zero. The judge is still deliberating on that, which might take a while since he’s in no condition to stand trial.”

“Or if he ever going to wake up.” Seraphor sighed again. “Alve.”

“Yes, my friend?”

“If there is anything I can do to fix all this, I’ll do it. Zenithia’s a bit busy with her new friends, so I’ll try my best to—”

“You can’t do anything with your situation,” said Alverian. “If what you’re planning is to fix the buildings. Although…there is something you might be able to help us with. Are you familiar with the term ‘primal magic’?”

“Like ancient magic?”

“More like the purest form of magic. I believe you’ve met Azureath.”

Seraphor remembered the azure dragon being one of his saviors and Zenithia’s new friends. She was accompanying the Ternorians in retaking their land.

“I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen her in action, but Azureath’s draconic magic is primal magic. She does not unleash ice breath, but instead, she uses her claws.”

“Isn’t that normal?”

“Not for dragons of this reality. The former mage king of Nolingrod sent me a letter detailing his experience with her and the revelation that she was a Daughter of the Eternal Frost. That legend is elven in origin, but instead, a dragon inherited that title. The Eternal Frost is a form of primal magic.”

“And you’re telling me about this because…?”

“Well, your light magic is primal. Not sure how, not sure why, but Zenithia is the proof we need. A primal magic’s common feature is that the magic manipulates the way nature works. Azureath’s ice is caused by her temperature manipulation. Zenithia changes form and teleport using light. She explained that it is some sort of…particle dispersal or something like that. In any case, we decided to classify it as primal magic since it manipulates the nature in an unprecedented way.”

“So, you need me. Again, because…?”

“Because of the legend.” Alverian’s expression turned serious. “It turns out light dragons are the least of our worries.”

“What can be worse than light dragons destroying realities?”

“Not that bad, of course, but it still concerns this world. Elves live long enough to know that cataclysmic events are inevitable. The return of primal magic is concerning.”

Seraphor nodded, though he wasn’t sure if he should be concerned with it, even though he should. He was no longer a dweller of the Void. He was a white-scaled dragon of Earth. He could be killed, and that would be it. No returning to the Thread. No other Earths or Terras he could settle in. If the apocalypse happened, that would be it for the world.

He started to think about permanent death and what Avila would do once that happened. As a dragon, he still had a long way to go, but when it happened…. He shook his head. He had no desire to die just yet. In fact, Avila would be mad that he would throw away his chance of living his life to the fullest.

And from those thoughts, he became convinced that maybe this was his path to redemption on behalf of Ashaire and the damage caused by the light dragons. He chose this reality because he had a certain attachment, and now, with his attachment being permanent, it became his duty to defend the world.

So, with these thoughts, he said, “Well, I don’t have anything better to do, so…what do you need?”

Alverian let out a satisfied smile. “Later, Sera. Rest for now. You have been through a lot, arguably more than everyone ever will.”

As the elven grand mage walked out of the open-air room, he stopped near the door and said, “It’s good to have you back, my friend.”

“Likewise,” said Seraphor. Alverian nodded, then walked out of the room, leaving Seraphor and Ashaire alone. The former light dragon felt that he should try and relax, now that he was no longer in danger.

However, he wondered if he could ever have a peaceful life in a relatively short lifespan. He was an immortal being that could not die even if he wanted to. Even when a light dragon became a new Source, they were still aware of what they once were.

“Will it be enough?” Seraphor mused. He wasn’t sure of the answer. His new life was relatively short, and he planned to enjoy it to the fullest.

Only time would tell. Until then, he only hoped Avila would be there.