The Horde was our cue to leave, and we had all agreed to splinter off and travel our own journeys. That’s where my story truly begins: in a small farming town called Leyton. Though it had outgrown its name, the town still relied on selling crops and livestock to the capital in order to stay afloat. I scavenged the surrounding forest and stole some sheep during the night and hung around the walls of the town as they were mostly clear of beasts.

One day, I was warming up in the sun-light, just below the tree canopy where the indented leaves would make way for my body to absorb the rays. I basked for a good hour when I heard a sudden crash near the front gates of the town.

My curiosity weighed quite a lot back then, so I scuttled along the branches of the forest towards the main road which fed into the gates of the town. I made a small porthole within the thick leaves and peered through, spying a group of armed men holding long halberds defending the gates of the town. There were ten men, all in a line, pikes poised towards the front against a group of humanoid creatures. They had leathery skin plating their limbs with a complexion enclosed by wrinkles which crushed their expressions inwards. They had large, yellow fangs which pointed upwards, nearly missing their eyes, with accompanying claws and unkempt toenails.

“Those green goblins have a disgusting smell, may I add. This is why I avoid them, even now.”

“Fortunately, the olfactory senses of humans are not as sensitive as yours,”

“That is quite good fortune indeed,”

The Steadfast Knight nodded in agreement.

The lot of goblins had equipped steel and leather armour, many of which did not match each other. Their weapons looked poorly maintained too, with blood stains rusting the blunt blades, and their maces had large dents coating the surface.

The goblins charged; the guards dug in their heels. The defenders held their ground, using their superior range to avoid the dull-minded attacks, strategically maiming one then slaughtering another in a regular and collected manner. Their dexterity and skill with the halberds shone as the guards made a counter-offensive on the retreating group, hunting the stragglers down and beheading them swiftly one by one.

It was then when I caught whiff of a strangely distinct scent which was rapidly strengthening. I looked down the dusty road, the glaring sun still overhead. In the distance was a silhouetted figure dressed in a dark robe and strange, alien staff, The guards took a while longer to notice the stranger.

The guards kicked the corpses towards the copse beside the pathway, all whilst the cloaked figure continuously approached. The guards had assumed their appropriate posts once more by the time the mysterious person was perpendicular to my tree. It was a black robe with a few purple stitches embroidered along the seems. In his right - presumably dominant - hand was a large, wooden staff made of twisted branches and twigs, sporting a large, violet crystal encased by the branches towards the end.

One of the guards approached the… man:

“Morning sir, do you have your registration with you?”

“I believe it would be better to paraphrase the conversation,”

“It takes the fun out of telling my tale then…”

The Steadfast Knight peered towards the entrance of the cave.

“Make it quick: I need to be back before nightfall,”

“Right…”

The man remained silent.

“Sir?”

The man remained silent, though he seemed to be fidgeting with something in his left hand.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Sir, we are currently undergoing some policy changes to our entry rules now, so if you could please identify yourself-”

The man lifted the staff. The man hit the ground with the butt of his staff.

A powerful seismic shock coursed through the ground, nearly knocking me off my perch. The guards, however, did not fare so well, being sent tumbling down onto their hinds. The man tapped his staff on the ground again, shaking the ground once more. The wooden walls of Leyton started to shift around in their place as the main gates started to rattle, eventually tumbling down as its hinges gave way.

The armed men recovered, assuming a crescent formation around the mysterious figure. The man swung his staff across his body, producing a violent wind, sending the centre guards flying. The flanks charged, halberds spearheading, which was countered by the figure’s subsequent fiery attack, materialising a large, flaming ball which was casted at the left wing of the assault. The remaining three split to avoid the next barrages of fire and energy, preventing their continued advances.

I spectated the battle, in awe at the guard’s agility and the man’s ability to conjure such spells.

“It was quite the claw, or rather nail-biting fight to watch at the time. It was a sudden break from the monotonous lifestyle of sitting near a settlement, waiting for something eventful to happen; it was also my first exposure to magic, and one which was the catalyst for my sequential interest.”

“Well, then who won?”

Eventually, the guard’s stamina was worn down, yet the mysterious man’s magic was still relentless, which resulted in the defender’s demise. The rest of the town’s force was prepared, but they met the same fate as the guards at the front gates. The thatched roof and wooden structures of Leyton were subjected to arson as the man set ablaze the entire town.

I was still curious of the man’s strange, non-human smell, so out of a mix of curiosity and overconfidence in my combat abilities, I approached the magic man.

…

The evening was drawing near, and the town was coloured an orange and crimson hue, lighting up the night sky. I stealthily snuck up behind the man, who was sitting on the ledge of a cobbled wall, now charred slightly from the flames.

“Come out, however you are.”

I was still unacquainted with the human’s common language at the time, though the combination of my mother’s teachings and time spent near a human settlement gave me a rudimentary semantic and lexical understanding of the tongue.

“Fear not, your presence does not seem human, yet I can tell that your intellect rivals that of man.”

I slowly peaked my head from a pile of rubble and looked at the man, still slumped over with his oversized garments.

“Come closer,” the man requested, still facing the other direction.

I took a step towards the man, who turned slightly. His heard turned as well, allowing me to view his face, which he did not have. I was confused, which the man had seemed to understood.

“Ahh, do not be surprised, young Lizard, I was a human, but no longer,” the undead skeleton said softly, “I hold no grudges against you, only the inhabitants of this town.”

I took another step closer to the thing, who sighed and looked towards the spacious town centre again, now burning like a bundle of firewood.

“This town has given me great injustice,” continued the skeleton. “I pray for you to listen to my story and recite it one day in the distant future. Your kind lives long, and your intelligence does so too, so spread the word of this wretched soul: Oliver Cuthbert, and the great injustice this town of Leyton has inflicted on me, and my dear wife.”

My gaze was still fixated on the skeleton’s staff which was now put aside, leaning against a crumbled fence.

The skeleton looked over to me, noticing my strange interest.

“Ah, have you never seen magic before?” he inquired. “You must be truly young then.” He reached over and held the staff, waving it around slightly which produced a slight hazing in the air. “This is magic son, normally, other creatures can make it themselves but I need to use a crystal because I lack a soul, now that I have deceased.”

I was slightly confused at the paradoxical statement, which shone through my scaly face.

“Right, I’m still… ‘alive’ because, I’m not really alive you see,” the wretched skeleton said. “As far as I know, I am a simple manifestation of my past grudges and displeasures, but now that those have been cured with the destruction of this town, I am destined to fade away and join the ones I have damned as well.”

It took me slightly longer to process this statement, though I understood the sad intonation of his words.

“Magic is mysterious to most people, Lizard. It can do wonderful things, but it is also a tool of destruction. Humans are incredibly irrational, and despite the gift of logical thinking, still make decisions based on emotions and feelings and on-the-spur thoughts. The travesty of this situation is great.”

I sat down next to the wretched man, intent on listening to his teachings.

“Magic is a gift to all, but only a select few have the ability to utilise it, however, seeing as you are a pure dragon, you should have some - at least - limited usage of the power.” This piqued my interest, as magic was something which my mother had talked of before, yet I have never seen nor experienced myself. “You seem to want to learn, young man(?), here: lend me your paw.”

The melancholy man presented me with his hand, which I placed mine on top of. The thoughtful man closed his eyes and whispered to me:

“You should start feeling the magic energy in your veins. Let your heart pump the mystical fluid throughout yourself, and feel it re-energise you…”

Indeed, I felt the warming sensation of magic in my still-developing veins. It rushed through my heart, yet gently flowed near my skin.

“This is energy, in its most pure form - according to my teacher. Some people hold different beliefs, but I am a subscriber of my initial teachings. I believe that the great spirits of nature fuel the hearts and minds of all living beings and enlighten our souls to the wonders of magic. Let your revitalised soul generate this essence.”

I followed suit, and calmed myself, allowing my mind to fall into a shallow trance which seeped the magic energy into my bloodstream.