I was defenseless. With my body pressed against the ground, with the symphony of snapping branches, I was sure I would have to let my bones join the orchestra. My chest was already feeling the pressure and my joints were grinding against the strain.
I could move my fingers and drag my arms against the ground, but my head and chest were firmly pressed against the ground, as if the atmosphere and the ground acted like a vice. I was tasting the leaves and branches when my mouth was pushed into the floor.
Maybe, if I could look for my stones, if I could find them in my pocket, I could try impaling the dragon further in its wound. But while I could drag my arms, I also needed to twist it and pull it off from the holes within the foliar litter. My thumbs were stuck, then my pinky, and my pointer. It was getting harder to pull myself from the accidental traps.
I could not turn around to see if there were any more of my team still standing and fighting, and I could no longer see the dragon to find out if it was trying to fight them. The best I could do was listen, and I did not hear guns or spells.
Giving up my struggle, mostly because it was tiring rather than for being defeatist, I lay still and thought of figuring out a solution. Intelligence was a human’s greatest weapon. If we cannot win with raw power, we find a way to leverage our strength and amplify it.
What was I to do when I had my hands and legs tied?
Then, the dragon whined. There was some struggle.
My body was light.
I pushed my body off the ground and turned my head to find the dragon struggling against a golem crawling on its body and finding its way towards the wound.
Sitting down, I put my hand in my pocket, but before I could do anything more, the dragon had ripped the golem off his body. The gravity spell quickly returned, this time in a snap rather than gradually. My head slammed into the ground, I had no time to either stop myself from falling or brace for impact.
I just ate the dirt. A big mouthful. Coughing rocked my body, but I could barely expel air when the atmosphere forced itself into my lungs. Every time I cough, I gagged with the same air I had just tossed off my lungs.
However, I had managed to hold on to a stone. If I could just see the dragon, then I just had to impale it through the wound and wait for it to bleed to death. But that was easier said than done. Even if I could pinpoint the source of dragon magic, I would be able to find out where he was. Just as I would be able to smell an odor, unless I pointed my nose toward the source, I could not find the source of the magic. I felt the dragon somewhere, I just didn’t know where. My magical senses were just as good as my intuition — useless.
There was one way, however, that I could do it, and that is if I opened my senses to magic and let the searing magic give my spell a direction. I had never used a spell with my senses open, I was not sure what would happen to me. But I was more scared of dying to the power of the dragon. When I was far away, and protected by the soil, I was burning whole. At this distance, with a direct sight to the dragon, I knew I would not be able to survive.
Bang! A gunshot.
A scream from the dragon broke the spell once again.
I reincorporated myself again, and twice again gunshots. I reached out to hold on to one of my stones.
The golems struggled, crawling and bounding towards the dragon. Padrict cast his spell, but before he could set it off, the dragon once again activated his spell. Stronger than before.
I was ready, this time.
I fell on my back, my head pointing upwards. I could see the dragon this time, as I forced my eyes to look down to my feet; I could see a blurry shape between my toes, like I had created a biological iron sight.
With this, my magical sights were lined up as well, aiming towards the dragon's wound.
“S—sss—” I began, but I could not speak correctly.
Grunting when I tried to pronounce a vowel, and blowing air through my teeth when I tried any other consonant that wasn’t an S.
I had to try my luck with voiceless magic. It was harder, and I had no staff to help me stabilize and direct the magic; I had lost it somewhere between the first gravitational spell and this one. I was already going to have a hard time doing my magic with the world trying to crush me, but now I had to do it without any other tool to direct my magic. The stone was the last straw, as I had to make its magic flow within me — as external magic is harder to control — more so when I had no magic within me to mix it and stabilize it.
If I were standing up without pressure, I would be able to do it; the struggle would be there, but with my training, I know I will be able to do it. It would be painful, as well, but that wouldn’t stop me. But with so much disrupting me and my concentration, I could not do it without help.
Come on, I begged myself. Just do it. Cast it. You’ve done worse things.
I hadn’t, I knew, but how was I supposed to raise my spirits? I was not about to throw in the towel. So, I had to lie to myself and make myself believe it.
‘Fake it ‘till you make it.’
This is what I have always been about. To see myself as a good magician or a good person, not someone photogenic or a Casanova like Tedet. I was a good wizard, good at heart and good in skill. I could do this, I know I had it in me. People believe in me; my friends. Tedet and Misa. Grikhat is expecting Tedet alive and she trusts me with their child. The one person who used to despise me and had learned to trust me, Yand-Una, my ex-warden, was now in my top three best friends. If all of them trust and believe in me, how am I not believing in myself?
Most of all, Martin, the love of my life. The man I love the most in this world. My heart ached for longing. How I wished to hold his hand and hug his body within mine. To have him close, to feel his warmth. To kiss his forehead and cheeks. The smell of his clothes, that lavender softener he uses to give it a comfortable smell just for me — yes, all of it just because of me. I wanted him. I wanted my Martin. My handsome and joyful boyfriend.
If it wasn’t for Tedet or Misa. If it wasn’t for Grikhat and my new nephew-son. If it wasn’t for Yand-Una. And if it wasn’t for me. If it wasn’t for all those people combined, it had to be for Martin.
For Martin, I had to survive. For his love.
I was not at all blind to what I was doing. I knew exactly the kind of power I was drawing forward. And if you aren’t aware or you fell asleep in your Magic for Dummies class, I’ll refresh your memory, grasshopper: love is magic. And a very powerful source of magic.
Just like happiness and sadness, just like anger and fury, love was an emotional source of magic that no other could compare. It was an incredible and incalculable source of power.
I felt it. I felt it in my heart. I knew it within me, in my chest, beneath my sternum, snuggled between my lungs, beating rhythmically. My heart exuded love, magic, power. I felt it. And I no longer had to cast any magic. I lathered the stone’s magic with love and it was like putting lubricant in a rusted bolt. Nothing at first, but then, something gave, and soon it was loose and smooth.
My magic simply flowed like I had not felt before; like a soothing and warm shower of water dripping down my body on a cold night. It washed it all.
And it ripped the earth agape. From its center, a spear, thin and pointy, brittle and hard, thrust upwards, impaling the dragon through the open wound in its abdomen. The spear broke on impact, leaving a piece of the rocky spear in the wound.
The world gave up on its hold on me. Rushing back, all other sensations gave way to a wave of aching all over my body. I could not stand up without the feeling that my ribs were going to turn to dust.
But Thanatophagon? Screaming and wailing in agony. It grappled and clawed its open wound, still oozing blood, trying to lodge the spearpoint free from its body but, with every exercise of energy, the dragon staggered. Falling on its side and writhing more and more into a fetal position.
Then crying. The dragon whimpered, its rumbling voice trembling off into soft exhales as it held itself close, bracing for the end.
I heard the rustling of footsteps and I heard friends and allies approaching me.
“Ed!” The distinct sound of a radera calling me. Must be Tedet.
Echoing his call, a feminine voice called me twice. Misa was just beside him, I knew.
I was simply lying on my back when they appeared, and to my other side more stomps crunching the forest litter. Orlan, Padrict, and Shkadaur must have been there, too. I was suddenly surrounded by everyone.
“Ed, are you okay?” Misa asked, cradling my head as she did. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
“I am,” I answered, and it hurt moving my lips and tongue. “Everywhere.”
Tedet chirped to that. I smiled through the pain of my lips cutting through my cheeks.
“Ted!” She complained. “That’s not funny, Ed.”
“It was a little,” my best friend confessed.
“The dragon…” I began but did not finish. There was no need to continue.
“Dying,” said Padrict. “Soon.”
“Good,” I affirmed.
The death of an animal wasn’t exactly something to be happy or proud of, especially when you were the one to give it the coup de grâce. However, this was a dragon, an entity too powerful, wild, and irresponsible to be allowed to live. Dragons cannot be domesticated, and they cannot coexist with humans or any other animal. They are rational but they are not social or empathetic. All they want is empowerment.
You could say the same for humans, but humans as a whole have learned their lesson, they have improved. We have organized ourselves to promote good and enforce justice, morality, and ethics. Dragons do not have that and do not want that. They understand it and they explicitly abhor it.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Thanatophagon dying was more good than bad.
I started laughing.
Tedet croaked next to me.
Misa complained that none of this situation was a laughing matter until she also began chuckling. Padrict cackled like a madman.
“I thought for a moment I had changed my destiny,” he said. “Death to a dragon would’ve been better than dying to those stupid old men of the Council.”
“I should’ve thought of that sooner,” I said. “I had to dig into my emotions to pull that spell off. If I had just thought of destiny, I might have pulled off a Miracle.”
“Faith?” he almost laughed at that. “You know what? That doesn’t sound so farfetched anymore.”
“Don’t tell me you’re a Faithless.”
“You really think Faith the size of a mustard seed could move mountains?”
“What about killing a dragon?”
“That’s a fallacy, Edwhite.”
I smiled.
Then my smile transformed or, more accurately, was disfigured under the pressure of gravity.
I grunted as I saw my other allies dropping beside me.
NO! NO! NO! NOT AGAIN!
From what limited line of sight I had, I spotted the dragon resting its head on the gigantic pike I created, looking straight at us.
“Edwhite,” it said, gasping the words with so much effort. “Die.”
Its maw opened only slightly, but it was enough for me to see the glow inside it.
“NO!” I cried, only for it to be a hard-pressed, incoherent wail.
Something! Someone! Help me! Give me power! Now!
From within, a sensation called me. Something whispered. It called to me, beckoning.
“Edwhite Avarez,” it said, and its voice tasted like honey. “Open your eyes.”
No. Not my senses. Anything but that.
“I have been waiting,” it said, caressing its voice against my cheeks. “Use me. Take me. Open your eyes.”
I knew now what was calling me. I had been harboring this power for a long time, ever since I made that pact with the demon from Yand-Una’s arm. I had sold part of my soul to get a bit of power to threaten the elves. They let us leave and the power was never used. Now, the power called out, heeding my call for aid.
“It’s time,” it beckoned. “Open— your eyes, open them.”
I saw glimpses of the blue light beyond its ever-opening maw.
Like flashes, I recalled the visions passed to me by Padrict. The monster or demon, the person or me, the building. I saw parallels all around me. I was the person, the demon was the dragon or the demon in my arm, and a building stood tall next to the dragon, as it supported it one last time — the Sword of Atlas. The fire that surrounded and consumed me and everyone else around me, at its center, was hellfire. I was essentially on my deathbed and Padrict feared for my life that was about to be taken away by the dragon or myself. I thought of something worse, as my soul being taken by the demon. In some way or another, I would die today.
There was no coming back from using the demon’s power.
I gulped my self-respect and concentrated on my arm, alluding to where Yand-Una had her demon residing in. Then, I braced myself for the fire.
I opened my senses.
For just an instant there was heat, and I began to panic; images of flaming vampires flying towards me filled my imagination. But soon, the burning was blocked by a fresh breeze of… fire. Cold fire. The fire in my arm burned and the warmth in my heart was still red hot from the residual power of love. Both combined kept the sundering flame of Thanatophagon at bay.
From the vail of my fire, I saw into the dragon and I saw a child — a teenager. The dragon was young and inexperienced, but it was fueled with anger. Death peered from behind its shoulder and, for a second, I thought it was looking right at me with its void sockets for eyes. But then I realized that it was not me who it was embracing.
The Death-eating dragon was now at the mercy of its prime meal, and death reveled in the moment.
“Use me,” the power called.
And I knew what to do. I knew what I would be doing to the dragon.
I did not move, I did not speak, I did not strain myself in any way.
Do it, I thought, talking to myself as to the demon power.
Hellfire erupted from within me. Tracing a path of death and destruction towards the dragon. To anyone watching from outside, the fire would’ve looked normal, but to wizards, the fire was corrupt. And to those who saw with their opened senses, they would be able to see the screams of a trillion souls in the every flare of the flame. Faces of agony were traced in the smoke the fire left behind.
Thanatopahon did not scream, its voice was swallowed by the flames as its fire reached out with literal hands to grab onto the sound as it escaped from its jaw. His scream was incorporated into its cacophony; another one of the many trapped screams within the fire that had burned every evil soul for eternity.
Death, right behind it, caught its deceasing body with a loving embrace, like a prince to his princess.
Calmly, the dragon drooped, its head dragging down the Sword of Atlas.
I had not noticed when the dragon’s magic was dispelled, my body had felt lighter and without realizing I was already moving like usual. I pushed myself up from the ground to find everyone beside me looking awestruck at the dragon, and then back at me. It took me until I saw the blinding light shining behind Misa’s head to shut my senses for good.
“Agh!” I exclaimed. “Too bright…” Rubbing my eyes and turning away from her.
Misa turned behind her but probably was confused to realize the sun was not in that direction.
“Evil magic,” said Shkadaur.
“That was hellfire,” summarized Padrict. “Which demon was it? I never sensed it.”
“Not mine,” I said and continued with the scarcest explanation I could come up with that satisfied their curiosity. “Leftovers from a pact that saved our lives before. All on official Council business.”
Not exactly the truth, but not exactly a lie. Yand-Una never told anyone, but she also knew there was no point in doing it when she was also thinking of doing the same. All I did was leave out the details.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Padrict pressured. “Demonic pacts come at a cost, and using hellfire… it must have done something to you.”
I felt no different than before, except now I had the strength to stand up and walk. My pain had gone away, and I thought there was residual magic still coursing through me. I may even be able to use some spells even if only at half or a quarter of their power.
“Maybe,” I admitted. “But so far, I feel alright.”
“That may be a worse sign than if you felt something wrong.”
Chills ran down my spine. Something must have gone wrong and I had not figured out just what it was yet. Padrict was the scholar, and if his knowledge told him something was off, then he was probably right. I thought I had only given up a piece of my soul with it, but maybe “a piece of the soul” isn’t that straightforward. What does it really mean to lose a piece of your soul? How much does losing a piece entail?
This was a philosophical answer I did not have the knowledge, intelligence, or wisdom to answer. And it seems Padrict hadn’t had enough of them either.
“What now?” asked Tedet. “Do we just go?”
“We need to report to the Council,” I said and thought I heard Padrict shiver with chills.
“I also need to report this to the High Order,” explained Shkadaur.
I had never met the hadtherad equivalent of the Council, but I imagined beardy radera with as much charisma as the old men in the council. Given their alien nature, it gave me goosebumps to think someone like Tedet could become like the Council.
“Are you leaving, now?” I asked.
“You think I leave you alone with the dragon?” he responded with his own question.
“There’s nothing you can do. If we report first, then the Council will do as they please. If you leave, you’re just letting a few wizards fumble with a carcass. The Order will deal with us and the Cabal at the same time while we figure out what to do with a dead dragon. If you stay, instead, they’ll have nothing to work with.”
“You suggest I go,” he said.
“Make it quick.”
He did nothing, but his pimples turned a little pink.
“You are right.” Then, extending his hand, he waited for me to stretch it.
I did.
“Sometimes, you are alright, Avarez. Why the Council hate you?”
I smiled. “I ask myself that question every morning while looking at myself in the mirror. They must be jealous of my youth.”
Shkadaur croaked. That was the first time we connected. He let go of my hand and instructed us to defend the place from any supernatural creature that may come our way. The dragon had flown above the city, that was how he and Orlan found out about it. Besides, we just had a great magical battle, sensitive creatures would be able to figure out something was off within the forest.
And speaking of Orlan…
“Where’s our conjurator?” I asked.
I had not seen him around us while we were attacked by the dragon for the last time, or even when we were talking between ourselves. My team turned to see all around them and found nothing except some unmoving golems.
“He was—” began Padrict but he could not find or sense him. “There’s no way he’s hurt—”
“Orlan!” shouted Misa.
There was no response.
Tedet and I echoed Misa’s call, but we did not hear an answer.
“Spread out?” asked Misa, her commanding attitude leaking even after our fight.
“Spread out,” I concurred. “If he is injured, we need to treat him quickly before anything else happens.”
Misa instructed Padrict to cover her back as she took point. Something in her initiative to take action and be the spear point of an attack, to take the first hit before others… that was who Misa was from the start, but she had the strength and tools to make herself an effective warrior. It was a bit unnecessary, but Padrict nodded and did as instructed. He looked like a soldier following orders; once told what to do, life was simple: follow orders, complete the mission.
The team separated to search for him. The place was unusually calm, and that made me scared of finding the man lying dead under a pile of forest litter. I did not want to believe we lost him like that. He was a great asset and a man that I thought I misunderstood. I wanted to have a little conversation with him, and apologize for my attitude even. I did not hate him; he only gave me the creeps. He also seemed apologetic about his early attitude towards me.
Spreading around the Sword of Atlas, to look for him beyond the dragon’s corpse, we looked around for something on the floor.
I was happy and surprised to see him leaning atop the dragon, a few of his golems working on something under the corpse.
“Orlan!” I called out playfully. “Something caught under the dragon?”
My smile quickly vanished when the man only stared back. He was not happy. But quickly, a smile was produced on his face. It felt fake. Did something bad occur?
“Are you okay? Orlan?”
“Nothing,” he answered. “Just trying to fix something.”
“Let me help you.”
From behind him, Misa and Padrict called his way too. But after a few attempts, the tone of Padrict changed. It even sounded aggressive. What was he doing?
“Hey!” he shouted. “Stop! Stop that!”
“What’s going on?! Orlan?”
Suddenly, a golem grabbed my leg, from beneath the branches. Half of a robot, from the torso up, held me in its painful grip. In response, I cried a wail of pain from the twisting of my ankle, making me drop to my butt.
“STOP!” yelled again Padrict.
In an instant, the golems around Orlan stood up and moved across the dragon, toward the pair behind the corpse. Misa did not hesitate.
“Freeze!” she said, and I imagined her aiming her gun at the machines. “One more step and I shoot.”
The machines stopped while moving above the corpse, but still menacingly they faced the pair.
“I don’t want this, guys,” Orlan said. “I just want a few pieces of material and we leave this place in peace.”
“We can’t let you do that, Orlan,” I said.
“The dragon is property of the Cabal,” explained Padrict. “If you take it, you’ll be a traitor. A dangerous individual. You’ll be branded a warlock and hunted. The Cabal will kill you for it.”
“I need this,” he said. “I need this.”
“You don’t need this kind of power. You don’t need to taint yourself like this, Orlan. Let us help you. We just killed a dragon, for the Mother’s sake! Don’t make the Cabal your enemy. The Knights will hunt you too!”
“You don’t get it, Avarez? I thought you would.”
“I am trying to be a good person and work within the system. I know the Cabal is not perfect, but we’re still doing good!”
“You know the Cabal doesn’t care about us! The Council is playing their little chess game with us! They don’t care about us or our lives. It’s just ‘follow the rules or die.’ Some of us don’t even get that kind of luxury.”
“We have each other, man! Don’t do this.”
“Yes, we do. As an ordained brother. As a fellow wizard. As another man in trouble. Avarez, Padrict. Let me do this.”
I shook my head.
“Not like this,” I said.
Orlan looked across to the other side of the dragon and sadly shook his head in response, too.
“You are leaving me with no choice,” he declared.
“There is always a choice.”
“Fate is not set in stone,” explained Padrict. “You can change your destiny. You always have a choice. Choose the right thing. We can help.”
Padrict did not believe at all what he said, but we both knew that if we needed to defuse the situation, we needed to show him everything was possible.
Orlan shook his head and said: “Some of us don’t get that kind of luxury, Padrict. Some of us, don’t have a choice. Unlike you, I have no other route to take.”
“You have no clue just how wrong you are about everything that you just said.”
“You really think so,” said Orlan while laughing. “Then you are deluded.”
“No,” I explained. “You just don’t realize how free you are.”
“Free?” And then his face changed. “You think I am free?! You think I am here because I want to? Because I chose this? I never had any other choice but to become what I am. If only you knew what it is like to be me, Avarez. I thought you would understand. But I misjudged you. You are as deluded as that whole brainwashed cult you call the Cabal.
“I have no other choice! This is ALL I have left! This is ALL I can do! This is my miracle! Right here! This dragon is my miracle. I thought it was over for her, but now there’s hope. And you think you can deny me my life back? HER LIFE BACK?!”
Her? Who is he talking about?
“Who is ‘her’?”
“Who?” He shook his head in disapproval and shook his hand towards the golems. “No one you care about.”
Bang! Gunshot.
My leg sprung in pain.
The sound of machines straining all around us.
Orlan and Padrict casting spells.
And Tedet was nowhere to be seen.