I walked through the halls of the castle, pleasantly awed by its tall ceilings and archways. There was no doubt that these floors had seen other infernals walk their tiles underneath the painted ceilings of multi-dimensional frescoes, each of a different plane in the cosmos. My dwarven guards marched in front of and beside me, talking excitedly of the battle and the return of the holy ones. Jeldorain reclined in our headspace, lapping up the praise with glee as we stepped to our assigned residence.
And what a residence it was! The grandeur of its architecture struck me, a home inside a home. The double doors that opened to it were made of levelled and shined granite, sparkling an almost amber-red due to the tiny lesser gems encrusted into its surface. The handles were almost certainly platinum, and upon opening the doors, I saw that they opened into a grand meeting room, complete with thick, purple carpeting, a throne at its end, and lounge sofas all along both sides of the room. A number of other doors led out, indicating that the entire residence was quite large. I cast a curious eye to the dwarf nearest me.
“Is this a throne room?” I asked.
“This residence is for visiting royalty, champion,” he growled cheerfully. I’d already noticed that it was hard to tell when they were angry or not, since most of them spoke as if their lungs were full of gravel. “It is a great honor to have you stay here.”
As if those words were some cue, they all brought one fist to their chest plates, the thunk of the motion echoing through the chamber despite the muffling of their thick beards. With one movement, they turned and departed, closing the doors on their way out.
Kevinar stood up from one of the lounge sofas, his sharp elven eyes catching mine with a nod of acknowledgment. “Ryan,” he greeted, a rare smile on his face. “I half-expected that we were done. That was a well-fought battle.”
“Thanks,” I said. “It was Jeldorain and I, really. Couldn’t have done it without him.”
Aw shucks, Jeldorain said, grinning.
Ike bounded over, grinning as well. “Took you long enough! Thought you might've gotten lost in one of those grand hallways.” The little kobold gestured around them, pointing at the grandeur of the place. “They gave us this and all our gear back too. I think you might have criticalled your diplomacy on this one.
I chuckled. “Yeah, maybe. It’s not so hard to do when all they respect is battle and you have the ability to become a 100 foot tall super monster.”
Together we opened all of the doors, checking the place out before settling in for the night. There were ornate bedrooms, one actually sized perfectly for Jeldorain and I, promising a very relaxed and gentle sleep for a change. There was a kitchen, a larder stocked with dried goods, a garderobe, a feasting hall, and lastly a great library filled with dusty tomes and a beautiful hearth at its end, wooden logs already set and ready for the flame. As Kevinar and Ike set about getting that started, I wandered idly through the library, checking the titles.
As I approached them, I could smell the age of them, a scent that was part dust, part aged parchment, and part incense. The shelves raised to the ceiling, and I knew I wouldn’t see a tenth of what was here even if I spent all night checking it.
To me, that suggested a secret. Running my fingers across the titles, muttering them to myself beneath my breath, I checked book after book, pulling out the ones whose words interested me. Jeldorain watched with me, sharing the cockpit of our mind and helping suggest titles to take into inventory.
By the time that the fire was going and Kevinar and Ike were calling me over, I’d taken three thick tomes, each of which Jeldorain said held the promise of a skill level up or spell.
The first of these was titled, “The Alchemists' Legacy,” its cover a tapestry of celestial patterns. The second was called, “Chronicles of the Etheric Realms,” bound in leather that shimmered with an ethereal glow. And the last was named, “Veils of Illusion and the Art of Seeing,” featuring an eye on its cover that actively examined me as I held it up in front of me.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“Let me get just one more,” I called back over my shoulder. Tracing my fingers against the spine of each book, something flickered out of the corner of my eye.
Jackpot, Jelorain exclaimed, his spirit grinning icicle teeth in my direction.
I turned towards where I’d seen the flash, dropping to my knees to scan the section it had come from. There, it flickered again, a tome entitled “Whispers of the Elemental Ancients.” Its placement didn’t make any sense, its spine jutting through that of its neighbor in a way not unlike a video game object glitching through a wall.
I reached out to give it a gentle tug, but instead of grabbing a hold of something solid, I felt an electric shock roll through my body and gave out a surprised yelp despite taking no damage.
“Hey, Ryan, you alright over there?” Ike called.
“Yeah, just fine,” I yelled back, staring at the now vacant square cubby where there had been three shelves worth of books before. I pushed my head forward to the edge of its darkness, peering into its furthest reaches and spying the rolled up parchment of a single scroll, its edges lightly singed.
“I just found a secret!” I called over to my companions.
“Is it a sword?” Kevinar shot back.
“It’s a scroll.”
“Then I’m not interested,” Kevinar responded and I could hear the echo of Ike’s chuckle reverberate through the room. I reached in and grabbed it, pulling it out without incident.
Now what? Should I open it? I asked Jeldorain, as if his wide-eyed stare wasn’t an answer in itself.
Now please, oh great master strategist.
Unraveling the scroll, we bunched together and watched as it revealed a series of spell glyphs. “Ember's Grasp,” I translated, as Jeldorain gasped.
That is a power of the flaming hells, he said, his voice confused and uncharacteristally nervous. I shouldn’t be able to read it, or even be able to touch the paper it is written on. This sort of magic is forbidden to my kind.
We read on, getting the details of the magic. The spell allowed the caster to summon and control flames with the finesse of a puppeteer. The incantation, written in a script that flickered on the parchment like living fire, promised mastery over one of the primal forces of nature.
Ember’s Grasp: Summon a swirling vortex of flames that can be manipulated and controlled with precise movements of your hands. Engulfing a target into the summoned inferno causes 8-32 points of fire damage, with a 1% chance of immolation.
The spell's effectiveness diminishes with movement and can be quenched by magical water or ice. This spell consumes 30 mana upon casting and lasts for 5 minutes, requiring the caster to stay immobile and to avoid taking any damage as it is active.
This spell is a mastery spell, considered a skill for the purposes of its flame-based capacities. Upon successful reading of its runes, a C-rank will be conferred upon those who use the scroll, and the scroll will collapse to dust. Further rankings will confer the following abilities:
Flame Puppeteer: The caster can shape the flames into simple forms such as animals, weapons, or walls, using them to intimidate, distract, or shield allies from harm.
Heatwave: Once during the spell's duration, the caster can choose to expand the flames in a sudden burst, doubling the damage for that turn but ending the spell immediately after.
Double Damage: All damage inflicted by this spell’s effects are doubled.
“Give me one more second!” I called over to the hearth. Holding the scroll before me, I thought of studying it and understanding it, and watching as the scroll crinkled into ashy motes before me, disappearing into the air. A second later, I felt heat enter my body, a lancing torrent of lava tearing through my veins. I screamed, and I could vaguely hear the echoing footsteps of my companions on their way over to me.
When they got to me, though, I was done. The pain was gone, and I stood up to regard my companions. Both of them stared, their mouths wide, no words to say.
“All better now,” I said, smirking.
“Your eyes!” Ike exclaimed. “They’ve turned orange.”
Glancing over at Jeldorain, I gasped, seeing the same change reflected in himself.
How are you feeling, Jeldorain?
Steaming. Smoking. All-powerful. He laughed, a full-hearted chortle that echoed through our body. I think the fact that you are not an ice infernal meant that you could infuse yourself with an aspect of a flame infernal, and that has transferred to me. I am now a very unique being in this universe, Ryan.
I smiled. “Jeldorain says everything’s okay. Let’s head over to the hearth and start talking about tomorrow.”
No, Ryan, you don’t understand. This is amazing! I have so much I want to talk about!
“He also says that he has a bunch he wants to talk to me about, but he’ll respectfully wait to do it until after we’re done having our own conversation.”
“Sounds good, Jeldorain,” Ike said cheerfully, turning to head back to the fire. Kevinar cast me a suspicious but friendly glance, while inside me Jeldorain left our cockpit of control to go sulk in the corner.
We’ll talk, Jeldorain. Just now’s not the time. Right now, we need to talk diplomatic strategy.