Redmondel stopped her fit of rage and lowered her head closer to the ground. She watched and listened. Plumes of smoke were still escaping the gaps between her sharp teeth. Her bright yellow eyes danced back and forth, pupils widening. She’ll find that sorcerer even if it’s the last thing she does. She had no choice now, after all.

A pebble rolled down the sloped ruins to her right. Redmondel unleashed the restless flames that were building up in her mouth, incinerating everything in their path. Thick, black fumes covered the ground, and no sorcerer to be seen.

The yellow eyes searched again. Glass cracked to her left.

Again, the flames roared, but only black smoke rose from the ruins, clouding the air. The glowing embers below the dragon’s tongue illuminated a faint silhouette running through the thick cloud.

“Quit this silly game!” A voice roared from the dragon’s mouth. Redmondel was running out of time and she knew it.

She flapped her wings and the wind carried the smoke away. Between the ruins, a figure made of water kept running and circling Redmondel. The dragon growled. With one swipe of her front leg, the magical figure was crushed and there was no energy left to conjure up another.

I leave it to you, Ozahr.

“Redmondel!”

The dragon turned her head and the Spell Knight leapt for her black horn from the top of the crumbling mansion. He was but the size of a pest against her gigantic figure.

Ozahr hung onto the rough bone as Redmondel thrashed her head from side to side. He dug his fingers and feet into every little crevice he could hold onto.

“Listen to me!” He tried to shout between each violent gust of wind, hoping his words would reach the ear below her horn. “The Phoenix is dear to you in some way, is it not?”

“Do not speak of them to me, mortal!”

Redmondel’s voice shook the cold night’s air. Ozahr’s whole body vibrated, but he could only retract his neck between his shoulders to shield his ears if he didn’t want to fall.

“What good are you to them if you’re dead?” He kept shouting.

“You no longer have power!” Redmondel swung her head to the side and slammed her horn into the crumbling wall of the mansion.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Ozahr’s fingers slipped and he was flung inside one of the building’s floors. He rolled through the rubble and broken glass and fought against the debris falling on his head. The sorcerer barely managed to open his eyes. Through the rising dust, Redmondel's mouth glowed.

Ozahr propped himself on his elbow. "I will have it!" He shouted more weakly this time, but the rolling echo of the room carried his voice forth. The orange light grew brighter.

He tried to stand, find shelter perhaps, but Ozahr's knees gave in and the sorcerer fell to the ground.

"I will have my power again and I will use it to find the Phoenix!" Ozahr shouted, his head now bent to the ground in a plea.

He shut his eyes. The surrounding warmth slowly subsided and the cold air of the night returned. Small bits of stone were still falling in the silence. And then, the dragon finally huffed.

"Very well," her voice rolled like a distant thunder. With one of her black claws, she drew an image into the ground. "You have a month until I hunt you again."

As soon as she finished, Redmondel flapped her wings and took off high into the sky. Ozahr watched her glide between clouds until her large shadow disappeared and a figure fell from the sky into a lake below.

"She changed back…" He murmured. When he looked over the ledge of the crumbling floor, he saw the image Redmondel drew. A circle of five mountains and a cave hidden in the largest one. Is this where he'd have to drop off his special delivery?

"Ozahr!" A voice called from below.

Ozahr lifted himself off the ground with a groan. He opened his scratched up hand and gathered a few pale sparks. His flame barely ignited and his skin twisted uncomfortably. Upon rolling his sleeve, he saw the blue marks running along his forearm beneath his skin, glowing every time he tried to use magic.

Ozahr sighed. I should've trained more.

"Ozahr?"

"I'm alright," Ozahr called back. "Though I think I'll have to use the stairs to come down. Meet me by the door!"

He carefully stepped where the floor wasn't cracked and slowly made his way around whatever was left of the mansion in the dark. His guest room was surprisingly still intact, aside from a couple mirrors and lamps that fell.

"I told you I'd be back," Ozahr said with a smile to his beloved hat. From his robes he took the two potions he brought with him. One smelled of cinnamon and faintly of bananas, while one smelled of fermented cherries and burnt toast.

Ozahr grumbled something under his breath before taking a swig from the latter. "Yup, tastes just like it smells—" he stuck his tongue out and lightly coughed. "Should help with the magic fatigue, at least."

He changed his clothes back to his soft robes and found a small pack he could use instead of his lost suitcase. Ozahr borrowed a few clothes from the closet and stuffed the remaining space with jewelry and gem stones that would make up for the satchel of coins he lost as well.

He made his way down the dark steps of the mansion. Unconscious guards, maids, and butlers were laying around everywhere. Whenever Ozahr stumbled upon one, he cleared the debris off of them and pulled them to safer looking spots where the building did not crumble.

Finally, Ozahr made it outside where the water sorcerer was waiting.

"Thank you for the distraction," he told the sorcerer.

"I can't believe you tried to reason with a dragon instead of slaying it."

"Well, it'd be a shame to rid the world of an ancient, mythical creature," Ozahr said nonchalantly with a smile on his face.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you couldn't beat it." The two lightly laughed before grabbing their sides and regretting it. "So… Where are you headed?"

"Me?" Ozahr rolled up his sleeve again. The magical marks did not subside. "You wouldn't happen to know which direction I should take to get to Erith, would you?"

"How about a portal?" He asked. "We're far to the west of Erith—it'd take you a week by foot to get there."

Must've been the crooked portal, Ozahr figured.

"Here, I'll lend you mine." The man opened his arms and collected the magic energy that was finally returning to the air. Deep blue ribbons of light slithered up his limbs. He let the magic flow smoothly into the ground like a river, taking deep breaths as he did. The watery ribbons rose into the air on their own and completed a circular archway for them to step through.

"Wow," Ozahr murmured. "It took me years to be able to create a portal. You make it look so effortless."

"I travel frequently," said the water sorcerer. "If it makes you feel any better, I probably wouldn't stand a chance fighting against a dragon."

They walked through the portal and emerged on neatly arranged cobblestone between rows of alchemy shops. The crystal lights on the streets were just beginning to dim as the sun was rising above the smoking chimneys.

Ozahr peeked from underneath his hat. Finally—Erith.