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Lyn tore through her drawers and threw on some clothes before running outside. As soon as the front door opened, she felt a burning, red-hot pain in her chest. She gasped and fell to her knees. My…mana core?
The mana core was located right in the center of the chest, behind the sternum. Partially a real organ, and partially phased out of reality, it was the source of mana for every person on Ghomar. Every person had one, and there were many special ones hidden around the world that could be claimed and infused into an existing core. Extending from that were the mana channels – like veins spread throughout the whole body. Also partially real, partially phased out of reality.
Her Scout mana core normally felt like a spring breeze when she drew that magical essence from it to perform spells. And, more importantly, the person only felt their mana core when they drew on it. That’s how it was supposed to work.
Despite not drawing upon the mana, it seared her insides. She opened her mouth to scream – and no sound came out. The white-hot, boiling pain raged in her chest and she fell prone on the front stoop of their tiny mobile home. She gasped for air and could not suck any in. After ten seconds of agonizing, all-encompassing agony, she realized it wasn’t just flaring up momentarily – the power was expanding further. I have to release the pressure. She had seen first-hand what happened when a mana core wasn’t relieved of excess mana. The gore and viscera flashed in front of her eyes and – panicking – she raised her arm.
Flexing her right arm, she tried to sense her mana channel. It was there, but very thin and not enhanced or strengthened. There’s no way this much mana can make it through that small channel. She doubled over as the heat continued to burn her insides. No choice. It’s this or die. She braced for the incoming pain. She willed the mana channel to open and attempted to incant a spell – but the pressure was too great and poured through without her control.
A roaring blast of magma shot out from her extended palm, blasting up into the sky, and arcing to some far-off place. She hissed as the release of pressure let her finally take a deep breath. She sensed her mana channel being forced open. Wider than it had ever been. The immense torrent might have made it feel as if her arm was exploding from the inside. Her limb would be useless for anything except very basic tasks for several weeks at a minimum.
Lava? That made absolutely no sense. The heat was unfamiliar as well. Her Scout hero core felt like a soothing, spring breeze. And when she let raw mana flow out of her it was a gust of wind. What core do I have? Her mind instantly flashed back to the fight against the Demonic Dragon. Did…did I somehow get its core? That’s the only conclusion she could think of…and it made some sense. I’ve merged other cores with my Scout core before.
It was part of the reason for doing Dungeons – to claim the core and use it to empower one’s existing core. But this…Dragon’s mana core didn’t empower her Scout core. It’s almost like this new one replaced her old one. I need to find Thomas. He can figure out what happened. Thomas was one of the heroes that had escaped from that fight, and he had the Knowledge hero core. If anyone could figure things out, it was him. But she paused. He’s still on Ghomar. Unless the rest returned when I killed the Demonic Dragon.
Staggering to her feet, she unlocked her bicycle and rode out of the mobile home park and down the street. Her arm felt as if it was on fire and began to cramp, adding to the pain. She knew that the agony of opening a mana channel wasn’t something that could be cured with healing magic, so there was no point in trying that. She tucked it into her torso, breathing through clenched teeth. I’ve dealt with worse pain, she thought, recalling the Dungeon that had required her to immerse her whole body into bullet ants. This is nothing compared to that.
On the plus side, once she did naturally heal, her mana channels would be wider than they’d ever been. She would be able to incant spells she’d never dreamed of trying before. That thought gave her some hope as she pedaled hard to Misty’s house.
She pulled up and ran around the side of the house, huffing and sucking in breath. She got to Misty’s bedroom window and peered inside. She wasn’t inside. Come on! Lyn ran to the front door and knocked with her left hand.
Misty’s little brother opened the door, “Hi Lyn! Why are you here so early? It’s not time for school yet!” he was dressed in pajamas still.
“Is Misty here?”
Mikey shook his head, “No, she didn’t come home last night.”
Lyn felt her heart race again. Not from the exertion, but from the trepidation that filled her gut. The deep, black pit of despair that numbed her soul. She didn’t return. “Tell your mom she has to take you to school. I gotta go.”
Mikey frowned, “Oh…okay…bye.” He shut the door, and Lyn grabbed her bicycle and was preparing to get on it when the roiling pain hit her again. The burning pain in her chest took her breath away. How much mana does this core generate? She grabbed her bike by the handles and walked it down the road a few hundred feet – until she turned the corner and was out of sight of Misty’s house. The road was empty in both directions. Fuck this is going to hurt. She raised her right arm again. She began to incant a spell, but once more the roaring hot mana just surged through the opening.
She screamed as the fiery, hot, searing mana tore through her mana channel once more. Another burst of lava shot up into the sky and arced into the distance. She sighed in relief as the bubbling, roiling pain subsided.
Her arm was still sending agonizing pain signals to her brain, but she could at least get back on her bicycle and ride one-handed to school. I have to get to the field. As she began to pedal a thought hit her. If Misty didn’t come back, then none of the others that survived came back. She shook her head and pedaled harder. Hopefully some of the others would show up to school.
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She got to school as the early bus was arriving. She locked up her bike as usual, went to the locker room, dressed out, and waited at the field. She tapped her foot and bounced her leg as she stared at the parking lot – seeing a few cars and buses show up. None of her classmates showed up for P.E. Their whole senior class – all twenty of them – none arrived. Not even the ones that had died and supposedly returned. Did they lie to us? She thought as she recalled the old archmage that had used some artifact to call them to Ghomar. I know what he said; “If you die, you will be returned home.” Was that fucker lying? The thought disquieted her, and she continued to tap her foot on the bleachers.
The bell rang marking the passing period and Ms. Gundy came out of her office. She sighed, “Is it Senior Ditch Day and you just didn’t get the memo?” The older woman was a fitness enthusiast through and through that Lyn got along with very well. Her favorite teacher.
Lyn shook her head as she got off the bleachers. She held her right arm close to her chest. “No clue.”
Her P.E. Teacher gestured for Lyn to show her the arm, “Come on, what did you do to it.”
“Nothing,” Lyn muttered as she begrudgingly held it out. From the outside, it just appeared slightly swollen, and the muscles under the skin would sometimes jostle and move, as mana channels were invisible to sight unless using a divination spell.
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Ms. Gundy touched it and nodded, pulling her hand away. “It’s a muscle spasm. Well, you can walk the track today. If it keeps going more than a day, go to the doctor.”
“Can I go to the office?”
The teacher sighed, “Fine. Go to the nurse’s office.”
Lyn went to the building and around the front, walking in to the secretary’s desk. “Excuse me.”
The old man behind the desk adjusted his glasses. One of the folks that volunteered at their small school site. “Oh, how can I help you?”
“Did any of the Seniors call in sick?”
“Oh? Did you miss Senior ditch day?” The man chortled as he went to the phone log and began flipping pages. “When I was a Senior, we went down to the lake and got some bootleg moonshine…” he continued to ramble on for several seconds, and Lyn felt the heat roiling in her torso, gripping the countertop tightly with her left hand. After agonizing seconds, the man looked up to her. “Sorry, no one in your class has called in.” He had a sympathetic frown on his face. “It sucks being left out of-”
Lyn doubled over and screamed, causing the man to back up. She ran out of the office. The heat bubbled and seared her insides. It was an overflowing sink that was beginning to crest the top of the lip, the surface tension barely holding it in check before it spilled out onto the floor. If she didn’t vent it, it would kill her. She ran out of the building, around the side, and into the locker room catching Ms. Gundy’s eyes as she did so. Shit. Don’t follow me in.
Lyn could see steam escaping the pores of her skin as her heart beat out of control. She held the injured arm out, placing it flat against a floor drainage grate, and began to incant a spell to release the pressure of mana building up in her. Before she could even get a single verse of a basic incantation out, the mana surged out of her arm. Lava poured out of her palm, splattering, and sputtering down the grate, incinerating and melting the pipes – but thankfully not surging back up to her.
“What the fuck?” she heard from behind her. Glancing over her shoulder a fear was realized. Ms. Gundy stood there. “What the fuck?!” the older woman shouted as the drain overflowed and lava continued to surge out of Lyn’s palm.
No! No-no-no! Lyn’s mind raced as she backed away from the surging lava that slowly built up in the showers. Ms. Gundy screamed and ran – pulling the fire alarm as the water hissed down from above and filled the room with steam. The torrent of lava faded to a drip. Shockingly, Lyn couldn’t feel the radiant heat from the lava even though it was melting the clothes from her body. She saw me use magic. Fuck!
She ran back to her locker and grabbed her backpack and clothes. Once she got outside, she tossed on the t-shirt and shorts. Her phone rang. Please be- it wasn’t another one of the summoned heroes. It was her dad. She didn’t bother answering.
She cursed and slammed her fist into the wall – screaming in pain as she had habitually used her right hand to punch things when she was angry. Where could they be? It hit her and she ran to her bike, The skate park. That’s the only place they could be. She pedaled hard, the roiling starting to churn in her torso again.
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Lyn rode as fast as she could to the skate park. No one was there. The park was locked – which was an oddity in and of itself, as she had used it the day before – well, pre-summoning day before. Fucking…she pulled out her phone and went through every social media post she could. The social-media addicted seniors were some of the first to die. If they’re back, they’ve been posting. They wouldn’t keep this shit secret. Fuck! Why didn’t I check that first?!
She felt the heat rising slowly but surely in her torso as she got to a week in the past. No posts since last night? She was sent back before the summoning spell pulled them off of the field and into Ghomar. If they didn’t post…Lyn felt a chill down her spine. They might not have come back.
The evidence was mounting. The ten that had died weren’t on social media, hadn’t shown up to school, and – as she continued to rack her brain for other possibilities – an Amber Alert popped up on her phone with details and descriptions for the youngest member of the senior class. Missing since last night…
That cemented it for Lyn. They were gone. The ones that had died were gone for good. Why did I survive? She thought. Is it because I got the killing blow on the Demonic Dragon? Or was it something like only if you died while fighting the thing? She had no other data to match against that assumption, as the heroes they did lose all died before the assault on the dread fortress. If I’m the only one that came back…what’s left for me here? She sat on the bike, feeling the churning in her torso that would need to be released soon. I mean…abusive family. Dead-end jobs. Shitty careers.
Sure, she had magic…but what good was making lava? Maybe I can do other spells. Holding her hand sideways, she closed her eyes and attempted to incant a simple water spell. As she opened her mana channel to allow the mana to pour out from her mana core, no water came out – instead, the spell fizzled, and a torrent of lava blasted out to the dirt pad in front of the metal gates before those warped and melted. Her bike melted out from under her due to the ambient heat – but she only felt warmth as the goopy liquid settled around her feet.
Fuck it. I can’t stay here. She had to get back. Ghomar was her home. She was famous. She killed the Demonic Dragon. She owned a goddamn castle. She wanted what she had worked hard for. What she had earned.
I’m going back. There was nothing here for her. Escaping this hellhole was the best thing that happened to her. The abuse, the dead-end life. The poverty. Hunger that kept her awake at night. She wanted what she had fought for. Not to mention, being the only magic user on Earth would make her a prime target for every goddamn government to abduct her and experiment on her.
She ran into the skate park – the lava akin to warm water as it hit her bare feet – her shoes having melted already. Her pants caught aflame, and she didn’t care in the slightest. She wanted somewhere that was going to risk the least amount of collateral damage possible. She vaulted the second, inner gate that blocked off the older part of the skate park from the newer part. The pain surged along her arm. She gritted her teeth and muscled through the pain, running to the center of the cement bowl. She felt the tears streaming down her face as she cried from the surging, pulsing, throbbing spasms in her limb.
She threw her backpack on the ground and rifled through it with her left hand. “Fuck!” She didn’t have anything that could draw on the concrete – pencils wouldn’t cut it. She got out of the bowl and ran to the grind bar. She dragged her right palm along the jagged underside that had scarred her in her youth. The pain was negligible – she couldn’t really feel anything except the burning and throbbing in that extremity. Running back to the bowl, she tried her best to create an inscription. Good thing I rocked at geometry. She felt a flutter in her chest. A sense of hope. This will work! Summoning items to a user was common, and most of the heroes had made custom inscriptions on necklaces, rings, and bracers that would let them summon their armor and weapons to them. Lyn had made her own. If I invert the summon, and set the destination as Ghomar instead of here…I should be able to get back.
She took a deep breath. I’m going back. I’m going to be celebrated as the hero that struck down the Demonic Dragon. The Scout hero who saved the world. The thought brought a manic grin to her face. She finished drawing the last circle on the inscription and planted her left hand in the center. She had to use that one – she couldn’t risk ruining the arcane symbols with the blood still dripping from her right palm. That meant more pain, and another near-useless limb.
Okay. Here we go. She took several deep breaths before increasing the speed faster and faster, hyping herself up like she did before pushing her arm back into its socket when it got dislocated years ago. She allowed the mana to run down her left arm, filling the inscription.
The mana flooded out in an agonizing, volcanic torrent that superheated the air around her as it poured into the bloody inscription on the ground. She screamed as her channel in her left arm ripped open, the same pain in her right arm sympathizing and pulsing with her rising heart rate.
The words in Elenthir glowed bright, crimson-red and flared with an orange hue. It began to hiss and bubble as a cacophonous roar rose to pair with her screams of pain. Lyn felt the searing heat not just inside her, but outside as well as the blood turned to molten lava. Her flesh did not sear or burn, the lava felt like a warm bath – but the heat coursing through her veins made her want to die. She was burning through mana. So much that if she didn’t have this insanely powerful core, she would have died.
Her vision narrowed and she could only see the boiling blood that melted the bowl deeper and deeper, carving the inscription permanently into the cement. Her vision dimmed and narrowed, more and more. I…have to…get back…
Everything faded to black.