Abbot Xander came to greet Vincent as he prepared for his journey away from the Magius Monastery. The morning dawned grey; rain fell in a light mist, ground wet and muddy from the downpour the night prior.

It had been three nights since Vincent had chosen to venture out on the dragon’s errand. None of the monastery members had any recollection of having been possessed by May’uri. Nor any of the events that had taken place during the time they would have been under the dragon’s control. Even the lost tomes had been restored. Time magic used to reverse the damage done. Ash rebuilding itself into solid form, which the dragon possessed members of the monastery then returned to their proper shelving.

False memories had been given to all except for Vincent himself. Replacing the events of the book burning—as well as the training of Vincent in the use of magic—with events akin to their daily lives.

While he had not learned much magic in the short time, Vincent now had a grasp for how the art worked. Having gained the ability to use a handful of spells that he could use for protection during his harrowing journey through Caembra.

Alongside the use of magic, he had also been given a pendant made from dragon scales. The sleek blue surface of these scales shimmered like polished agate. From his understanding, the pendant was the key to finding the tears, however, May’uri had not exactly told him how the magic within the scales was meant to work. Something he would have to discover on his own.

“I wish you would reconsider leaving,” Xander spoke. Loading the last of the supplies into Vincent’s cart. After learning that he would be leaving the monastery for a personal pilgrimage, the Abbot had gathered what supplies they could spare. Food, water, some gold and clothes for trade. What they gave him would not get him far, but together with the cart and horse provided, Vincent was sure to make it a few days out before he would need to restock.

“You’ve done enough,” Vincent said. Grateful for what he had been provided. Upon revealing his choice to leave, he had not expected any help from the old Abbot. Even as a teacher of his mother, he was not obligated to assist Vincent in any way. So, even a week’s worth of supplies was more than the boy felt deserving of.

“Are you sure you cannot postpone your journey?” Xander once more asked of him. Since the Abbot was given control of his own mind once more the night before, he had tried to convince Vincent to stay at least a half-dozen times.

“I’m sure,” answered the Vickery. Hand wrapped around the pendant he now wore over his travel clothes. It held only a fraction of the dragon’s power, yet he could still feel the pulse of magic from the one who had shed those scales.

Not only did he feel as though the dragon were watching over him in particular, he remembered how easy it had been for the dragon to take control of the minds of all those within the hallowed walls of the monastery. If May’uri had done it once before, there was no doubt his influence could once more spread throughout them all. And this time, he might not show as much mercy toward the acolytes and teachers for Vincent’s disobedience.

As Vincent was ready to head out, Lea and Iris appeared. The latter carried with her a box of old tomes and scrolls. “Wait, don’t forget these.” She placed the rather small collection of volumes into the cart. “If I’m correct, you plan to search for the lost city of the Arcalius Magistrate. You’ll need references to where they once lived if that’s the case.”

Lea was not far off with her speculation. In the days leading up to this departure, the dragon had revealed the Magistrate had once held dominion over one of the tears he’d shed in ancient times. With any luck, their tear was still hidden away where they had once thrived. And with better luck, the Magistrate would still exist and he could further his abilities under the guidance of the true masters of magic.

“I’m coming with you,” Iris said. Climbing onto the cart and into the driver’s seat. Before a word of protest could be said, she had taken the reins.

“I believe that would be Vincent’s choice,” Abbot Xander reminded the young woman. “This, after all, is his journey. You should not just impose yourself upon him.”

“He won’t mind,” she turned to face Vincent with a smile. “Won’t you?”

Not one to enjoy making sudden or rash choices, Vincent had practiced for this exact situation. “I must do this, alone.”

“You’ll need someone to help keep you safe,” argued Iris. She motioned her arm in an upward sweep. Bringing attention to his lack of weapons on his person. “No sword, no magic. What will you do if someone attacks you on the road?”

“I’ll manage.” She knew he was decently capable of handling himself. It was no secret that he had not come directly to the monastery after the fall of his home. Vincent had taken care of himself in the past. And the blood of both the Vickery family and his mother, one of the last few archmages, flowed through his veins.

Iris had claimed that she wanted to go alongside Vincent to protect him, but all could see through her words. Since his arrival at the monastery, she had done everything in her power to try and build a connection thanks to the friendship of their mothers. If he vanished suddenly without her, then all the work she had put into forging that bond would wind up going to waste. At least, that was how it seemed to present itself.

Her dedication to trying to forge and maintain that bond had worked on Vincent to some degree. While he had always kept her at a distance, even he had to admit there was some degree of mutual care on his end. Though he had never—and planned to never—admit to that.

“Prove it,” she suddenly blurted out. Dropping from the cart, she took a wide stance as though she were about to engage him in hand-to-hand combat. The air around her fists grew dense with magical energy; distorted as though they had suddenly become encased in glass.

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“There will be no need for confrontation,” Abbot Xander called out. Stepping between the two of them. Sternness frozen upon his usually carefree face. “Enough of this, Iris. Stand down.”

“I’m sorry Abbot,” she was unable to meet his gaze. “But I can’t let Vincent leave without knowing he’ll be safe out there. We’re the only family he has.”

Her words struck Vincent. Pained him in ways he thought impossible. Family? Had that been how they saw him. Was that why not only Iris, but also the Abbot were so against his departure? Turning his attention to the cart, his eyes fell upon the box Lea had brought with her. Knowledge from the monastery. A piece of that place to take with him.

Within the walls of the monastery was the greatest known collection of knowledge in the land. Knowledge that was considered sacred to those who had learned there. And she was so willing to part with a piece of that collection for his sake.

His mind then shifted to nights ago. When he had seen their eyes possessed by the dragon. How Lea had pleaded forgiveness for a crime she had not committed of her own will, only to discover she had been pleading to the very creature that had puppeted her. Watching that had pained Vincent. Broken him enough to surrender to the dragon’s will rather than try and escape.

Against his will, and without his own knowing, these people had been a family to him. Maybe that was why it was as easy to leave them as it was. Because he was leaving to protect them. Leaving to protect himself. Only pain came from having a family or those to love. Love could easily be used against someone to bend their will. As it had been done to him, even before he knew that he felt love for these people.

“Fine,” Vincent mirrored her stance. Ready to prove to her he could protect himself should the need arise.

“Enough of this,” Xander now focused his attention on Vincent. “Neither of you will be doing any fighting. Vincent has made his choice, and we must respect it.”

“It will be fine,” Vincent said.

“It’ll be over quickly,” added Iris. The distorted air around her hands began to smoke. Igniting into palms of flame. Fire magic had been one of her favorites to use. Though she had not quite mastered the art of creating flames to the degree of fully immolating their properties.

Her flames were able to produce heat, but they did not burn. Instead, they had a more concussive force to them. Getting struck by a fireball thrown by Iris was more akin to having a sack of beans thrown at you. Painful, blunt, but not so much deadly.

Relenting, the Abbot moved aside to let the two of them get this out of their system.

Iris made the first move. In quick succession, she threw four punches. Flames launched from her fist with each swing. Fireballs arching out to mirror the way in which she had thrown her punches.

Vincent easily dodged the first two. Thrown with a jabbing motion, but the two follow-up flames arced toward him thanks to the hook punches thrown. He managed to evade one, only for the next to land into his back. Striking between his shoulders.

Stumbling forward, Vincent kept his balance. Gathering himself in time to see Iris drop to the ground. Leg sweeping to release a wave of flames at his ankles. Timing it just right, he jumped over the flames and charged her. Forced to leap to the side as a wave of flames as thick as a door cut at the spot he stood. Followed by a barrage of all three methods of attack.

Even if Vincent continued to dodge these attacks, she was keeping him at bay. Stopping any forward momentum. If he was unable to close the gap between them, he would never win and prove to her he could take care of himself.

His only hope now was to let her tire herself out. Wait for his opening when her movements became sloppy. Exhaustion would overcome her at some point. But would he be able to maintain enough stamina to wait her out? It was true, using magic did eat away at one’s physical strength. But Iris had been active in her studies of magic, while Vincent had wasted away, locked in his room with books. His body was not as conditioned as his opponent’s. Which would likely give her the edge.

Worrying about how long she would last recklessly throwing fire his way was not a luxury Vincent could afford. He needed a plan, quickly.

Two more flames struck him. The first landed clean into his gut. Air knocked from his lungs. The next curved with the force of an uppercut. Pushing him off his feet as his head flew back. Tossing him to the ground.

“Is that the end?” Abbot Xander called to the two of them. “Have you settled this little quarrel?”

“Not .. yet.” Vincent rose to his feet. Struggling to catch his breath. Iris had proved herself to be quite the skilled combatant. He now understood why she was so confident she would be able to help him on his journey. Anyone less stubborn than Vincent would have conceded after that last blow. He cursed the Vickery in him. Knowing it was some remnant of his family pride that pushed him back on his feet.

While he had not studied the art of magic in of itself with his time at the monastery. Why spend time learning about something he was incapable of? However, the conflict with Iris had shown him some applications to be done with that power he now had coursing through him. If only he knew how to trigger the activation of his power.

“You’re stubborn,” Iris called out to him. Unaware of the irony in calling him stubborn when it was her own stubbornness that had the two of them locked in combat to begin with. Wanting to end this in one final attack, Iris inhaled deep. Bellowing out a torrent of flames that danced toward Vincent. If he was hit by this the battle would surely be over.

Seeing no other way to get through this fight. Vincent charged ahead. Running toward the flames meant to knock his down and out. It was risky. The flames took up a space at least twice as wide as his body, but he also needed to get as close as he could before attempting to dodge. It was the only way to ensure him a chance to counter-attack after his dodge.

Should he move out of the way too soon, that would give Iris time to react. Move too late, and he would feel the force of a whole person tackling into him, or something much worse.

Now! His timing had been slightly off. The edge of the flames brushed against his shoulder. Throwing his balance, causing Vincent to shift his weight and force his body to complete a full spin as he caught his footing and continued to dash forward.

Surprising all, himself included, as he closed the gap and tackled Iris to the ground. Pinning her under the full weight of his body.

“You win,” she groaned. Still trapped under his weight.

Just in time. With his arms weak, he collapsed on the ground at her side.

“Looks like you can take care of yourself,” Iris admitted. Turning to face him as they both lay on the ground. “Just promise you’ll come back and visit us at some point.”

“I can manage,” Vincent agreed. As much as he wanted to start his journey at that moment, fighting Iris had taken more out of him than he first realized. Not only were his limbs aching and his gut throbbed in pain, but he had not eaten anything before she showed up. Pangs of hunger only made the strike to his stomach that much more unbearable. Not to mention his clothes had gotten covered in mud after collapsing to the ground twice.

He would enjoy a nice rest and a warm meal, and then he could take off to seek the tears of the dragon. He figured that May’uri could not oppose his desire for rest. After all, how useful would he be in seeking the tears if his body was too tired to move?