[Day 2]

I awoke in the center of a perfect circle of verdant, green petals and bell-flowers, which clashed with the snow-wreathed, smoldering village. I didn’t know how long I was out for sure, but judging by the sun's position it was at least one day that I'd slept. The dragonfire had more or less died away, leaving only ruined islands of buildings around me.

Large snowflakes fluttered from the sky, landing on my face. They didn’t feel cold. Oddly enough, I felt rejuvenated as if I had just woken up from an exceptionally relaxing nap.

As I dug deeper into the recesses of my identity, I found myself confronted by a fragmented, discordant mosaic of Ioan's past made up of scattered, shadow-like snippets of memory that danced just beyond the reach of comprehension.

Was I Ioan? I didn't feel like Ioan.

My knowledge of Earth, rationality and science was sharp, as clear as day. It was a 40'000 lumen flashlight torch compared to the dying candle that was Ioan's memories.

Oddly enough, I felt no thirst or hunger while sitting in my glade. Feeling bored and curious I stood up and stepped out of the glade. Nothing seems to prevent me from leaving.

As I ventured further from the enchanted glade, I observed a curious change in my physical condition. At a distance of about three meters from the glade, my muscles began to ache and I felt biting cold air, as if I had once again transformed into a mundane teenager.

Straying even further, approximately ten meters from the circle, I felt beset by increasingly worse thirst, hunger, nausea and exhaustion.

Twenty five meters away from the witch-glade, colorful spots began to dance in my eyes as if I had an extreme concussion and my entire body felt like it was boiling from within.

At about thirty three meters away from the glade, my bones began to ache with blinding pain, my head engulfed in a blinding migraine. I felt like a walking corpse, a man dying from thirst, hunger and glade-deprivation as if I was some kind of a vampire that was seeking only one thing–to turn around. Crawling back to the glade, the pain lessened then vanished completely when I touched the circle of plants.

Phew.

Being a domain-bound witch definitely had a big drawback since departing from the glade made me into a mortal boy and going past thirty three meter radius seemed completely impossible.

My distance measurement was approximate too, based on my feet going toe to toe and estimating that my booted foot spanned about 30 centimeters.

Pushing against the pangs of hunger and thirst, ignoring the migraine, cold and nausea, I reached the nearest ruined house and began to sift through the ashes and debris, seeking things of value among the ruination.

I discovered that the fire had left numerous metal implements completely untouched. As I continued to unearth random clothes, knives, spoons, forks, coins, candle holders, jugs, glass goblets, and other inorganic objects, a hypothesis began to take shape in my mind.

Perhaps the dragon’s flame functioned akin to a neutron bomb, a weapon designed to eradicate life while leaving the inorganic world largely unscathed.

The thought was as chilling as it was fascinating. The concept of magic manipulating chemistry to target specific elements seemed exceptionally handy if I could figure out the principle behind it.

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I found a few giant footsteps in the village, indentations of gargantuan claws about 5 meters wide.

There was definitely a dragon here. A very big, scary dragon. The witch was indeed honest about that.

Digging through the center of one of the houses, I discovered a circular, slightly singed metal cover beneath the pile of ashes and debris. With considerable effort from my slender arms, I managed to pry it open, revealing the hidden depths of the well below.

Descending a sturdy wooden stairwell, I was greeted by walls lined with ceramic and glass jars brimming with pickled vegetables and salted meats, a veritable treasure trove of sustenance.

I immediately pried the nearest jar open, feasting on pickled cucumbers and drinking the juice. The feelings of dizziness, hunger and thirst lessened, but the sensation of the stabbing cold air remained, prickling at my exposed skin.

Curious.

A witch could theoretically sustain herself right outside of her domain, as long as she sated the mundane needs of her body which were otherwise somehow turned off while standing on the magic-circle of earth.

My hunger sated with the pickled goods, I wondered why the villagers hadn’t thought to seek refuge in these cold wells, or even flee into the surrounding forest when the dragon attacked.

I could only speculate as to whether the attack had occurred under the cover of night, catching the villagers off guard, or if there was some other, more sinister reason behind the apparent lack of survivors such as the dragon hunting down everyone except for a solitary teenage boy that fell under the river.

If the Yaga knew when the dragon was coming, why didn’t she simply tell the villagers to hide inside their cold wells? This was definitely a point to the theory that Grandhilda allowed everyone in Svalbard to perish on purpose, to magically manufacture a hero that could slay the monster through the sacrifice of blood and life.

With a renewed sense of purpose, I set out to explore the remnants of the houses within limited range. As I searched through the ruins, I discovered numerous metal chests that had survived the dragon's fiery onslaught. Inside, I found an assortment of dry clothing and bandages.

I quickly re-dressed myself in the fanciest coat I could find that fit my skinny body. Then, I turned my attention to the task of surveying the surrounding village.

I noted that many of the homes were violently torn apart as if a massive claw punched right through the walls and ceilings.

A cursory survey of the village from my thirty-three-meter leash revealed that a non-damaged pub stood about forty meters from my glade, just outside of my range. It felt like the ideal candidate for a secure base of operations if I could somehow reach it.

The prospect of sleeping outside, even if the cold didn’t bother me, wasn’t something I was looking forward to. The distant pub taunted me with the safety of its intact walls.

As a man of science, I refused to be daunted by the dastardly limiting constraints that bound me to the enchanted glade.

What was the earth exactly? It was soil and rocks. These things could simply be moved… could they not?

Determined to find a solution, I searched through everything within the range of my magical leash once again, pushing through the migraine and body aches. At the very edge of my reach, inside a torn-up shack, under a pile of debris, I found exactly what I was looking for–a sturdy metal shovel.

I considered the facts:

1. According to Grandhilda the fact that I was a man somehow wouldn't allow me to meditate or see spirits. Maybe there was a biological difference between men and women in this world. Therefore, relying on meditation to see spirits or whatever was going to be a side quest for me, something that I would try but not despair if and when it failed horribly.

2. Grandhilda knew exactly where my glade was. Even though she made me into a witch, her core motivations were still unclear to me. It was possible that she still planned to "hero" me up. If I didn't relocate and hide the glade, she could send monsters after me to "train me".

3. The glade was a green patch of grass out in the open visible against the white snow. Any idiot could see it from miles away, come over and chop my neck right off with a sword or worse yet, just shoot arrows at me from a distance. Marauders were likely coming to steal whatever wasn't nailed down now that the dragon was gone. I had to steal it all first and put it all in a secure location. It was only a matter of time until someone raided the ruins of Svalbard. Gathering tools and supplies is more reasonable than simply sitting in the open where a dragon, or another fantasy creature or even a wolf could just gobble me up.

As my paranoia intensified, I made a decision. The glade was definitely getting relocated to a safer position.

I rapidly began to excavate the edge of the green circle.

Inside my glade, the shovel felt weightless, cutting through the magic-infused frozen earth as if it was a hot knife going through hot butter.

I grinned maniacally as I obliterated a section of the glade with incredible ease, my muscles filled with superhuman vigor.