Satisfied and content, I lay on the soft grass, listening to my friends fall asleep one by one. Small, fluffy creatures took turns moving from one part of my body to another until they settled in their usual spots. Tina nestled on my chest, and her companion settled near my head. Chikita found her place between me and her mother's grave. She sighed often, shuffled her wings, and before finally drifting off, shed a few tears. Soon, I heard her steady breathing. Tarnis lay not far from the fire, stirring the dying embers and occasionally adding small sticks to the flames. Yurion slept like a centaur: his horse body lay on the grass with legs tucked under, while his human form sat upright, arms crossed over his chest. His head bowed onto his chest, the centaur slept soundly. Bamp and Emfit spent the night under the open sky, filling the air with their growling snores.

As I drifted off, I felt a presence knocking at the edges of my consciousness. I recognized the sensation—a gentle dizziness, a feeling of weightlessness. Oceania! My beloved, omnipotent mage! She wanted to speak with me, to share something important. I could hardly remember the last time we spoke.

"Hello, my friend!" I heard her gentle voice.

"Hello, Oceania! I'm glad you found time to talk to me. I missed you."

"I’ve always been with you. Didn’t you feel it?"

"Sorry, my mistake."

"No need to apologize. Have you ever noticed how people teach their little ones to walk on their own? First, they just hold them steady so they can stand, and then they help them take those first steps. When they see the little human can stand and move their legs, they let go but keep watching until they’re sure the child has learned. Even when children, at two or even three years old, are already running and jumping on their own, the adults still keep an eye on them. In my view, you’re like a child taking those first steps. That’s why I’m always by your side."

"In your opinion, do I have any success?"

"I'll be honest—you've exceeded my expectations. Your magic is flawless; everything you do benefits Orkvalia and all the living beings in this land and beyond. This is good news!"

"There must be some bad news too?"

"Unfortunately, the world of Orkvalia is not as we’d like it to be. I tried to change the established rules, but unfortunately, my attempts were unsuccessful."

"Don’t keep me in suspense—tell me everything as it is."

"Before I upset you, let me ask: how many magical spells did you come up with in the first days after arriving in Orkvalia? I’ll answer for you—a few dozen. How many spells have you created recently—two or three? How many of the spells you’ve created since your arrival do you remember or use often?"

"It’s hard to say. I don’t need to create larks or little people every day. What’s the point of this conversation?"

"The point is that you are still an apprentice wizard after living here for almost a year. You are now on the same level as when you started learning. The source of magical power that accompanies you at the beginning of your journey is dwindling. The longer you stay in Orkvalia, the less magical energy you will receive."

"So what does that mean?" Oceania had left me puzzled. "To reach the next level, do I need to leave this world and return? Is that it?"

You can stay here, at the same level you have managed to reach. I think I explained everything to you. Your appearance in this world made me happy. I saw potential in you. When I first met you, Arian, I sensed something special. My essence, entwined with your thoughts and feelings, immediately grasped your nature. You stood on the border of two worlds, and your soul shone as brightly as a star in the night. I didn’t need to look any deeper to know—I was in the presence of a good person."

You are full of kindness and compassion, and these are not just words. I have seen how your thoughts reach out to help others, how you strive to make the world around you better, and how you care deeply for the joys and sorrows of others. There is no room in your heart for cruelty or malice—only an endless desire to do good.

You are honest, even when the truth is hard. There is no deceit or cunning in you; you are open and straightforward, which makes you truly valuable. Respect for others is your natural state. You do not judge people by their mistakes; you do not place yourself above them but seek to understand and support them.

You are not afraid of responsibility. I have seen how you make decisions and stick to them, how you take ownership of your actions and do not shift the blame onto others. You have humility; you do not see yourself as perfect and are always ready to learn, to grow, to become better.

You are generous and willing to share everything you have. Your thoughts, your time, your strength—you are willing to give it all if it can help someone. This is a rare gift, and I value it in you.

You are just, but not harsh. Your sense of justice does not demand sacrifice but seeks to restore balance. You understand that within each of us lies both light and darkness and your wisdom lies in seeing the potential for good in everyone.

And finally, there is a light within you that I see through all the layers of your soul. A light of love for life, for people, for this world, despite its imperfections. You are someone who can forgive and move forward, who believes in the best, and who can inspire others to do the same.

You are a good person, Arian. Not because you are perfect, but because you strive to be better and bring light and kindness with you. And that makes you special in this world, where it is not always easy to stay true to yourself and your principles.

"You know, Arian," she began, and there was tenderness in her voice mixed with something like regret. "People like you are rare in Orkvalia. Few can bear the light within themselves, preserve it, and let it grow despite all the challenges. And it is these people who can become wizards of the highest degree—those who can not only wield magic but perform miracles, inspire, and lead others."

I remained silent, feeling her words slowly seep in. There was something delicate in them, something elusive, like a soft light breaking through the fog.

"You have a gift," Oceania continued. "I opened the doors of magic and creativity to you, but the path you chose was not what I expected. Instead of founding a school of mages or leading a group, you decided that you could solve all of Orkvalia's problems alone."

I felt the weight of her words. Time seemed to stand still, and I realized I had made a mistake. More than once, I had used my power to overcome visible enemies, to protect the innocent. But I was always alone, like a soldier going into battle without an army. I believed that was the right way, that I could handle everything on my own.

"Time is lost, Arian," she said softly, with bitterness in her voice. "Along with time went the chance to become something more than what you are today. Your power is not only a weapon but also a tool for creation, for inspiring others. You could have been a leader, a teacher, or the founder of a whole movement, but instead, you chose the path of a loner. And now, as your connection to me weakens, you see how important those opportunities were."

I remained silent, listening to her. Inside, everything seemed to tear apart from realization. Perhaps, for the first time in a long while, I felt that the path I had chosen was not the only one. That there was another, perhaps a better path—a path that I missed.

"But not all is lost," Oceania added, her voice wrapping around me like a warm wave. "You still have a chance to change something. You can direct your power for the benefit of others, and help them realize their potential. The key is not to be afraid to acknowledge your mistakes and learn from them. You are still the person I saw then—bright and kind, and that is your true strength."

Her words sounded like both forgiveness and hope. I felt that new doors were opening before me again, though not the same as before. And that gave me the strength to move forward, to correct my mistakes, and to become who I was meant to be from the start.

I lay on the grass, not feeling my own body, silently staring into the darkness where, it seemed, the very voice of Oceania resided. She was still with me as if waiting for me to decide to say something important, to finally open up.

"When I found myself in Orkvalia, I was lost," I admitted, feeling the words drag heavily from my tongue. "I never dreamed of becoming a mage or leading a school. I always dreamed of being a sculptor, and all I wanted was to return to my world as soon as possible. To become who you expected, I needed instructions or simple hints. And I acted relying only on my feelings and thoughts."

"Why didn’t you ask me?" Oceania's voice came unexpectedly soft and gentle. "I was waiting for your questions, but you remained silent."

A pause followed, and in that silence, I felt her words penetrate deep into my consciousness, unraveling the tangle of my misconceptions. Why indeed hadn’t I asked? Why hadn’t I trusted the one who had been with me from the beginning? Bitterness swept over me as I realized that the answers had always been so close, but I had missed them.

Oceania, as if reading my thoughts, tried to comfort me.

"You want to be a great sculptor," she continued, her voice flowing gently in the silence like a light stream. "It’s an admirable aspiration. You are familiar with the works of renowned sculptors from your world, aren’t you? Look at the creations of Antonio Corradini, at his 'Veiled Virtue,' where marble drapes the body like the finest fabric as if it has a life of its own. Don’t you feel the presence of magic in these works? Can’t you see how the master understood the structure of stone, how his knowledge of the human body and its emotional depths was embodied in every line, every curve?"

Her words inspired me, filling me with a gentle thrill. Oceania spoke of magic not just as a force to be used in battle or for protection, but as an intrinsic part of any creation.

"Magic will give you the ability to understand the structure of stone," she continued her words carrying a certainty that wrapped around me like warmth. "It will expand your understanding of depicting the human form, infusing your works with that unique light and warmth that belongs to all great masters. Magic is not just a power; it is a key to the depths of creative understanding. It can transform an ordinary block of stone into a work that takes your breath away."

I listened to her, and understanding slowly dispelled the fog that clouded my vision. I had been wrong to think of magic as something alien to my dreams. It had always been there, waiting for me to open up to it, ready to give me everything I could wish for. I just needed to ask, and it would have shown me the path I could take.

"Thank you," I whispered, feeling how everything that had tormented me up to this moment began to fade away.

Knowing that our conversation was not yet over, I turned to Oceania, sensing that her answers could clarify what had been troubling me all these days.

"If I stay here, as you say, I will become a gray mediocrity," I said, feeling the weight of these words. "But what will happen if I leave this world?"

"This world will live on without you, composing songs and legends about your deeds."

Her voice once again filled the space around me, like the whisper of sea waves rolling pebbles on the shore.

"You are not the gray mediocrity you think you are," Oceania said softly yet firmly. "With your help, relations between humans and rocktopuses have been established. You punished a gang of scoundrels and helped the forests regain their freedom. You defeated two dragons, Vulgaris and Laverna of the Pyronax family. All of this not only strengthened peace in Orkvalia but also gave me new strength. You have done much to make this world better, and that has opened the way for you to even greater achievements."

I pondered her words. Everything that once seemed like small victories or mere strokes of luck now took on a new meaning. Every action, every triumph mattered not just to me, but also to Oceania herself, to her strength and her existence. Vulgaris and his hideous mother Laverna were dead! Great news!

“All of this,” Oceania continued, “will make you more renowned and earn respect among townspeople and peasants. But I wish for more for you. I believe that your potential could lead you to heights you have never even dreamed of.”

I took a deep breath, feeling the air fill my lungs with nervous excitement. Oceania's words were more than just wishes. She saw something in me that I had yet to realize myself.

“Will the magic spells stay with me in my world?” I asked, feeling the fog of uncertainty envelops me once more. “Will I be able to use them if I return home?”

“That remains a mystery to me,” Oceania admitted, her voice tinged with delicate sorrow. “Orkvalia's magic knows no boundaries, but crossing between worlds changes its nature. By leaving the world of Orqualia for a while and then returning here, you will once again be able to access the inexhaustible source of magic. But how and in what form it will manifest in your world, I cannot predict.”

Her words were hopeful, but they also held an undercurrent of the unknown.

“Do you understand now what I wanted to tell you?” she asked, her voice as soft as a gentle tide, lulling my doubts.

I nodded, feeling her words slowly settle into my consciousness like ocean waves gently erasing footprints in the sand. In this silence, I began to understand: that my actions here are important not only for Orkvalia but also for myself. Whether I stay or go, every choice I make carries a power that can change the world—this one and the one I yearn to return to. I need the Key that opens the portal, and it's with Pyronax, as Nyx told me. To deal with the dragon, I need a sword forged from celestial iron. The circle has closed.

Reflecting on the events of the past days, I realized I hadn’t stayed anywhere for too long. I lived briefly in the forest village, and the journey to the Dragon's Lair didn’t take much time. I don’t know how much time has passed since the moment Laverna swallowed me and when I hatched from the egg. I have no watch, and I didn’t track the number of sunrises and sunsets; time flowed in one wide ribbon. I didn’t feel the change of seasons. With the trees missing their leaves, it was impossible to tell the time of year. Was it winter, autumn, or perhaps the height of summer? There were rains, there were cool days—how could I determine the passage of time?

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

But the most unresolved question: what to do with Chiquita? Who should I entrust with caring for the young one? She won’t be able to feed herself, and we know nothing about her relatives. I would be glad to see her father alive, able to care for his little daughter. But what if he’s not? My only hope is that the blacksmith Malleus might help me find a place for the little dragoness…

My sleep was interrupted by a loud, disgruntled voice:

“And how long is he going to sleep?”

I opened my eyes and saw above me a strange construction. It turned out to be part of Chiquita’s wing, which she had draped over me when she saw I had curled up from the morning chill.

The giants exchanged glances as they looked at the meteorite. Emphit grabbed the rough sides of the meteorite and pulled it towards himself. The sky-born guest, buried in the ground, reluctantly left its “nest.” I was filled with a sense of joy. The seemingly impossible task now felt achievable; we had a glimmer of hope that the meteorite would be brought to the village.

Emphit, holding the meteorite in his hands, quickly descended the slope of the hill. He was breathing heavily, with large beads of sweat rolling down his broad face. After a hundred steps, the elder giant passed the heavy burden to Bamp.

“Heavy,” he remarked, sharing his impression. “And not easy to carry in front of me.”

Bamp gave up sooner than his uncle. He didn't even wait for Emphit to take the meteorite back into his strong hands. The stone simply dropped to the ground. Chiquita flinched, and Yurion, who was pulling the cart, jumped aside.

“It’s smooth and slippery,” Bamp complained. “Hard to hold something this heavy.”

I looked at the meteorite. What magic could I use here? Oceania had said I could understand the structure of the stone, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t see anything.

“Oceania!” I called out to my mentor in my mind. “Help!”

“Make it easier to carry,” Oceania responded. “You have wild grapevines at your disposal.”

I scanned the nearest thickets but found nothing.

“She’s mocking me!” a frustrated thought flashed through my mind.

“You’re a mage, with great potential at your command,” I heard in response.

“What a fool!” I cursed myself. “I couldn’t figure it out on my own.”

“Uvam crescere!” I chanted a quickly devised spell. The ground began to stir, releasing vibrant shoots. My friends watched in amazement as the rapidly growing wild grapevines wrapped themselves around a dry tree.

“Tear them off and weave a basket from them!” I instructed the giants, keeping my hands over the earth. I didn’t know how many vines would be needed for the contraption, so I didn’t ease the spell, letting the vines grow thicker and stronger. My hands trembled slightly from the strain, but I wasn’t going to stop. The massive green stems continued to burst from the ground, entwining each other, forming a dense and flexible rope.

The giants, surprised but obedient, began tearing the vines and deftly weaving a basket as I had instructed. Their enormous hands skillfully handled the plants, crafting something sturdy and reliable. I noticed that the vines, infused with magic, had become much stronger than usual.

“More vines, quickly!” one of the giants shouted, urging me on, and I focused even more intently on the spell.

When the giants finally had enough vines in their hands, I lowered my arms, feeling the earth calm beneath my feet. A wave of fatigue and slight dizziness washed over me, but I knew the job wasn’t done yet.

“There,” I said, watching as the giant finished the last loop of the vines, creating powerful straps for carrying the meteorite. “We need to make sure the basket will hold the weight.”

Emphit carefully tested the strength of the straps, tugging at them, and nodded with a satisfied smile. With Bamp’s help, the basket with the meteorite was hoisted onto Emphit’s back. He smiled broadly, showing that the contraption was comfortable and allowed him to carry the load without frequent stops.

Reflecting on my conversation with Oceania, I decided to start recording the spells I created in my travel notebook, where I always jotted down ideas and sketches on the go.

“To instantly grow wild grapevines, vividly imagine the ruby-red, slightly tart juice, the numerous jagged leaves, and say: ‘Uvam crescere!’—Latin for ‘grow vine!’” This is how I documented the first spell. Along the way, I recalled the other spells I had devised and used during my time in Orkvalia: simple and complex spells to draw water, start a fire, and build a small yet reliable shelter. I didn’t want to remain a mediocre, faceless image. Not everyone in my world gets such a chance, so why shouldn’t I seize it?

I longed to return to the world where my childhood friends—Michelle, Nikos, Basil, Alex, Theodore, and Sasha—still lived. My parents and younger brother, whom I missed dearly, were there too. But in this world, I had made many new friends I didn’t want to leave behind. I thought that if I stayed in Orkvalia, I would try, with Nyx’s help or with Oceania’s guidance, to bring my family here to live permanently. If, of course, they would agree to my wishes.

The road to the blacksmith's village was calm and unobstructed, allowing us to travel lightly, enjoying the moment and playing with Chiquita. Bamp, lifting the little dragoness above his head, decided to help her learn to fly, running in circles with her. Chiquita flapped her tiny wings with all her might, her gaze constantly seeking reassurance from the giant, as if hoping for a miracle.

When we tied a rope made of wild grapevines around her body, Yurion took on the role of her flight instructor. He ran even faster than Bamp, and the dragoness, like a kite, soared above the ground, dipping her snout now and then into the tall, dense grass.

I watched our young ward with a smile, pondering her future. My heart was filled with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, I knew she would need someone to care for her, someone to help her grow, as she was still too young to fend for herself or defend herself. On the other hand, I couldn't imagine my life without her. The little dragoness had captured my heart from the moment we met. Her grace, her eagerness to learn and improve — all of it inspired my admiration.

She was growing before my eyes, and her desire to become stronger delighted me. In the beginning, her flames were like the weak flicker of a dying lighter, but within a few days, Chiquita was breathing fire as powerful as a good blowtorch. I couldn’t even explain to myself why I felt such warmth towards her. Perhaps it was because dragon blood flowed in my veins, or maybe she just genuinely appealed to me.

I watched Chiquita and saw in her the potential to become not only a beautiful but also a strong dragoness, capable of protecting people and aiding them. I hoped she would become someone whom Orkvalia would remember and respect. One day, the ugly duckling would turn into a magnificent swan. For now, perhaps the blacksmith, Maleus, could help her, but deep down, I knew that no one could provide her with the love and care that I could.

This thought spun in my mind, and I realized that, for Chiquita, I was no longer just a savior or a friend — I was something more. Even if I hadn’t fully understood what that was yet, I felt that my bond with her was much deeper than it seemed.

Chiquita's practice flight amused everyone except Tarnis. At first, he simply watched our antics with a frown, but soon he couldn't hold back. Furrowing his brow, he addressed me:

"Teaching Chiquita to fly is undoubtedly useful, but you’re forgetting about the other dragons. These creatures have keen eyesight and can spot a mouse from miles away, let alone our ‘flights.’ Those who attacked Chiquita's mother haven't forgotten about her, and let's not forget Chiquita's father. He doesn't know our intentions and might think we’re torturing the poor girl."

His words were justified, and I didn’t argue. We gently settled Chiquita in the cart and covered her with a shirt kindly offered by Bamp, so she would feel safe.

We walked through endless meadows, crossing ravines and hilly terrain covered in thorny shrubs. I experimented with magical spells, leaving behind blossoming, fruitful gardens, sturdy wooden or stone bridges, and fields sown with grain. Along the road, at intervals, wells with fresh drinking water sprang up. After each successful experiment, I made a corresponding note in my notebook.

I found myself thinking that while creating spells capable of building or reviving something, I had an unbearable urge to create something that could destroy it as well. When I could no longer endure this devilish temptation, I turned to Oceania for advice:

“Oceania!” I called out, feeling a strange, inexplicable desire for destruction bubbling inside me. “Every time I create something good, I feel like I must do the opposite as if I crave to destroy what I’ve built. What’s happening to me?”

Her voice softly filled my mind, like a warm breeze carrying the scent of sea salt and ancient reefs:

“You’re feeling the natural law of balance,” Oceania began, her voice deep like the ocean’s abyss. “The world is designed so that every action has its counteraction. When you create fertile gardens and build bridges, you’re not merely altering the surrounding world — you’re interfering with the delicate balance of nature. In one place, you add, but elsewhere, something must be taken away. It’s the law of conservation of energy that permeates all beings and phenomena on this planet.”

She paused, giving me time to reflect on her words, and then continued:

"Destruction and creation are two sides of the same coin. One cannot exist without the other. The desire to destroy what you have created does not mean you are inclined towards evil. It is a drive to restore balance, an unconscious yearning to return harmony to the world. It is important not to suppress this feeling but to understand it, so you can find a way to balance your actions. Remember, true magic is not in creation or destruction alone, but in maintaining the equilibrium between them."

I pondered her words, feeling my inner turmoil gradually subside. Oceania’s response not only comforted me but also helped me realize that to truly do good, one must accept both aspects of power—that I am not only creating but also responsible for the changes I bring to this world.

"Judging by what you’ve said," I asked, sensing an internal discord, "if I create a demon simply because I want to and direct it against my enemy, would that be acceptable?"

Oceania did not respond immediately, as if choosing her words carefully to convey her answer:

"It all depends on your intentions and goals," she began, her voice sounding both wise and gentle, like a soothing melody of the tide. "When you create something powerful and dangerous, be it a demon or any other force, your responsibility lies in how you use it."

She took a brief pause to let her words sink in before continuing:

"Imagine you are holding a sword. If you use it to protect your life, the safety of your loved ones, and those you care about, that is acceptable. You are not seeking violence but merely defending what is precious to you. But if that same sword becomes a tool for murder, theft, and gain, serving only to satisfy your dark desires and ambitions—that is not acceptable. Your power should not become the cause of others' pain and suffering without just cause."

Her words struck at the heart of my contemplation:

"Creating a demon solely for vengeance, destruction, or domination will not bring balance but will only disrupt it further. True magical power lies in understanding the consequences of your actions, in striving not to disturb the natural order but to uphold it. Your magic should be a tool for creation and protection, not a weapon of destruction. Remember, true strength is in resisting temptations when you are capable of indulging them. I cannot restrict anyone, whether good or bad. The use of magic in this world feeds me with life-giving essence. If people stop using magic, I would simply cease to exist."

Her words sounded mournful as if she shared my concern for the future. I paused for a moment, trying to understand how to prevent magic from falling into the wrong hands.

"You mentioned the word 'bad,'" I asked, feeling anxiety tighten around my heart. "Can’t we impose some limitations on the use of magic?"

Oceania replied with an even sadder tone:

"I cannot do that. There must be a law of balance: good must counteract evil. Magic is a part of the world, and it does not choose sides. I believe that the world will not suffer if, for every nine good mages, there is one sorcerer. Nine will always be able to counteract one."

Her words were simple but full of deep meaning. Oceania, as the embodiment of magic itself, understood that light and darkness always go hand in hand, and that neither can exist without the other.

"Consider the example of salt," she continued, choosing her words to better convey her thoughts. "Without salt, soup would be bland; a pinch of it adds the necessary flavor. So it is with magic: a touch of darkness only highlights the light."

I listened to her, and within me grew an understanding that the world contains neither absolute good nor evil. Every action, every spell carries a force that can be used for both good and ill. Okeania could not limit magic. I realized that we could not avoid shadows, but we could make sure that the light remained brighter and stronger. This is the balance we must maintain for the world to continue existing and evolving. That is why Oceania spoke of a school of mages. To lead it, I must study all aspects of magic—from the simplest spells to the most complex rituals, and understand how each force weaves into the fabric of the world, and what consequences its use entails.

Oceania believed that magic needed not just to be controlled but to be taught to others. Not everyone is given the chance to understand the depth of magical art and the responsibility it carries. She saw in me someone who could create a place where mages would learn not only to wield power but to use it wisely. I would need to master each discipline of magic myself and find those who could teach and guide others.

Giant Bump. [https://i.imgur.com/1YAqtvq.jpeg]