A modest campfire broke through the dark of night; a soft rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze and the faint rumbling of a nearby river broke the silence surrounding Vincent.

Eyes closed, he focused on his breathing. Long inhales followed by slow exhales. Since the ability to use magic was something new to him, he had not quite learned how to draw on the power at a moment’s notice. Unable to rely on it to get out of dangerous situations or to avoid possible threats before they came to fruition. So, he had begun at the basics. Breathing.

It was an application of magic he had learned while attending one of the lectures back at the monastery. Magical energy flowed through the body along channels closely linked to the circulatory system. Just as air was carried through the body, so too was magic. And proper breath control made it easier to maintain the flow of magic. Ensuring one would be able to properly cast and control the spells they used. Though this was not a necessity in using magic, there were some who believed that mastering this skill would help with the growth and development of one’s own ability to use magic no matter how naturally talented they may be.

At first Vincent believed there was no merit in such ideologies. How could learning to breathe have any impact on how well someone could master magic? He scoffed at the thought and ended up not even staying for the entire lecture.

Then Iris had begun to use meditation and breathing exercises in her own studies. Leading to improved control over her fire magic.

Seconds passed to minutes that became hours. And in that time, Vincent had remained planted. Doing nothing more than breathing. Unsure whether it was having any effect on him or not. What should I be trying to feel? Since receiving the gift of magic from May’uri, nothing felt that different for Vincent. At first he thought the dragon had failed to uphold his end of the bargain, but he quickly realized he’d been wrong when he accidentally froze the broth of his dinner that same night.

Opening his eyes, a sigh escaped his lips. Numbness had overtaken his legs from his time on the hardened earth. Standing had never felt more difficult as his legs resisted holding his weight. It had only been a dozen or so paces to reach his campsite but his weary legs made it feel twice as long a trek.

Abbot Xander had been sure to pack plenty of dried meats and fruits for the journey. If he were careful in his rationing, Vincent would be able to make what he had last at least a month. If not longer. Thankfully, Vincent had never been one to indulge in food like his brother Horace had. Making due with smaller portions since childhood would help with preserving his rations. And if he did start to run low, there was always the coin the Abbot had scrounged together that could help with resupplying his food supplies.

It also helped that the lands of Caembra were verdant and lush. Allowing the horse Abbot Xander had lent him was free to graze to its fill no matter where they wound up hitched for the night. One less thing he needed to worry about using his food or gold to maintain.

Settling by the fire with a few sticks of dried chicken and pineapple, Vincent pulled out the pendant given to him by the dragon. It still had not shown him the way to finding any of the tears as he’d been told it would. Just how do I make you work? Turning it over in his hand again and again, he saw no etchings upon the polished surface. No special markings or anything. It was smooth enough one might use it as a skipping stone to see just how far it would bounce across the water’s surface.

“Useless,” he said. Clouds of dirt rose as he tossed it to the ground. It stopped just before the campfire. “How am I supposed to use this cursed thing?” Vincent poured some of his magical energy into the scales. A glittering sheen rippled over the surface, but there was no further reaction to his attempt. Just as there had been no reaction when he tried putting the pendant under flame. A thought that had only crossed his mind due to the relation between dragons and fire from all the old stories. Until he could figure it out, the pendant was nothing more than a valuable trinket. And jewelry was not something he cared much about.

Still, Vincent could only complain so much. Not only had he planned to eventually leave behind the place he’d been calling home within the year anyway, but now he did so with a power he had wanted since childhood. What could you have taught me? Vincent’s thoughts fell to his mother. Her smiling face still vivid as it had always been in his mind. Would you be ashamed of the choice I made?

Bile rose in his throat as he pictured the sweet face of his mother contorting into a disappointed grimace over his decision to make a deal with the dragon. Fighting down the urge to retch his guts out, Vincent reasoned with himself. I had no choice. He attacked others over this. I was only protecting my home.

Would his mother believe those words? Did he even believe them himself? That final questioning was all it took to send him over the edge. Chunks of his dinner spilled over the grass and dirt. Even if there had been no other way, he still regretted what had to be done.

When his stomach once more settled, rose to his feet. Not quite ready to fall asleep, he went on a midnight stroll. He’d picked an open field to make camp. Meaning it would be near-impossible for him to wind up lost. Just to make sure, he stuck by the riverbed. So long as he followed the river, there would be no fear of his path splitting and him losing his way back.

As he wandered the plain, he found himself unable to hold back a laugh. It had been so long since he last lived this way. Surviving out in the wilds, away from any form of civilization. It almost felt nostalgic for him. Almost felt right. But it wasn’t right for him. Not anymore. Living at the monastery had taught him that. Cities, towns; that’s where he belonged. A place where he could settle down at a desk and read. A place where research and literature thrived. Not out on the plains where one’s ability to fight and forage were key. Skills he’d barely managed to grasp the last time he found himself in this situation.

He thought back to the fight he had with Iris. How he had managed to avoid her attacks the way he had. How he had managed to steal the victory at the end. All of it was a fluke. Skills his body once knew surfacing just enough to allow him to cheat out a victory over the more skilled and worthy combatant.

Should I have allowed her to come with me? Regret sank in. While he was certain traveling along was for the best, as he didn’t want anyone else getting wrapped up in servitude to the dragon, it would have been useful to have someone around who would help ensure he survive long enough to complete the task at hand. No, he shook his head, it’s better this way.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Far away enough from camp; Vincent decided to take his mind off the failed attempts at summoning the power of the dragon pendant. Instead, he would devote the use of his energy into practicing with his magical abilities. Looking around, he noticed three trees that stood out against the silhouettes of the nearby woods. Scrawny ash trees that had grown away from the rest. Perfect targets.

Taking a narrow stance and breathing deep, Vincent reached his back hand toward the river at his back. A fine trickle sloshed over to the young man. About a canteen’s worth trailed before him before it all coalesced into a sphere of constantly crashing waves that helped it keep its shape.

For a practiced mage, creating water was a simple feat. In his few days of practice, Vincent had never come close to creating water, or even pulling it from the air or other objects around him. For now, water and ice magic were forms he would get little time to practice, so now was the perfect time to try.

Crossing arms before his chest—connected at the wrist, pointer and long finger extended while he folded in the rest—Vincent inserted his will upon the blob before him. Front hand extended out, pellets of water burst from the source. Beating into the trees ahead. Or at least, his intention had been to strike the trees. Each pellet had began on course to hit their intended target. But just before contact, some broke off at a sudden turn. Others stopped midair and collapsed into the grass, and then some simply just launched in the space between the trees. Distance from his body seemed to weaken his control on the water. Meaning he would need to work on holding his will upon the liquid as it hurled toward his foes.

Retaking his crossed armed stance, Vincent took a deep breath. It misted out, wrapping itself around the water and freezing it into a solid mass. Following his movements he had just performed, spikes of ice that were needle-thin shot forth. Each managing to reach the trees. Half shattered on impact, while the other half managed to imbed themselves into the bark. Tip only, but it was a start. It seemed that not only did skill and concentration matter with magic, but the material one attempted to manipulate held a factor in how difficult using that style of magic would be.

For the next hour or so, Vincent continued to train with water and ice. Seeing only the barest of improvement in his ability. He would have pushed longer, but the use of magic seemed to put its own wear on the body. Muscles ached and his breath heavy.

Satisfied with the small progress he had made, he decided it was time to head back to camp.

Once he was back at the camp, he took a map out from one of the saddlebags. Trying to determine the best location for him to head to next. There were a few towns not far off that he could try exploring. One that caught his eye was a place called Sanghorn. Of all his possible choices, that one was the closest to where he was now.

Looking beyond the towns, Vincent noticed a landmark that caught his attention. It was about three days out from where he was now. Lake Illory had an island at its core. And built on the island was a place known as Caster’s Sanctum. I’ve heard that name before. Curious, Vincent went to the books Lea had been gracious enough to give him. He looked over the titles. Tossing aside the ones he knew wouldn’t hold the answer he was looking for. Eventually he found an old tome with a torn leather cover. The name had long since worn away, but he was certain this was the right volume. He flipped to the table of contents to find he was right. Within these pages was a list of places in which magic was studied, as well as locations with special magical properties.

Caster’s Sanctum was one of these locations. A place much like the Magius Monastery. Unlike the monastery however, the sanctum was not a place of learning. Instead, it was a place where one went to get help with magical problems. Vincent’s eyes moved from the pages and over toward the dragon scale pendant resting by the fire. Orange glow softly reflected off the blue scales. If he was unable to discover how to make it work, then that was the place to go for answers. Surely someone there had to have the arcane knowledge to get the tracking spell, or however the thing worked, to activate.

The only hurdle in his plan was getting someone to agree to helping him. If they were to ask questions on where he got the pendant, or what it was meant to find, what lie could he tell them? Admitting to having made a deal with a dragon seemed the wrong move. Firstly, he doubted anyone would believe that tale even if it was the truth. Secondly, if they did believe him, how would they react? Would claiming to work for a dragon cause them to turn him away? Would they find it too dangerous to let him roam and lock him away for life?

The longer he thought on it, the more he found the idea of reaching out to those within the sanctum to be a terrible idea. But he had no other choice. No one had told him his mission would be easy. Though he wished it would be. He decided it was best to leave it for in the morning. A night’s rest would do him well.

Laying out his bedroll, Vincent snuffed out the fire. Staring up at the endless abyss above until sleep took him away from the waking world.

Vincent stood at the jagged cliff edge. A bottomless void all that awaited him if he were to fall. Dark clouds reached across the sky. Bringing torrential rain and lightning closer by the second. With each flash, the long serpentine silhouette of something became visible. Howling winds rushed by the young man, powerful enough to inch him closer and closer to his demise.

He tried to step away, only for the gusts to increase in power and return him to where he once stood. The ground underfoot began to crumble away. It wouldn’t be long until he helplessly was swallowed by the darkness awaiting below.

“You have not begun to fulfill your promise,” roared the dragon from within the clouds. Ear-splitting as it echoed all around. “Do not disappoint me, my dear pawn.” There was only one beast that would refer to him in such a way.

Winds and rain grew stronger. Vincent had to raise his arms and look away from the clouds to even speak. “I’m trying.” He hoped the dragon could hear him over the violent storm. “The pendant, it does nothing.”

May’uri roared once more. The force of his cry alone split the storm. A pathway opened in the rain, letting Vincent approach.

He hesitantly stepped forth. “I cannot figure out how the enchantment works. It does not point me in any direction. It does not speak to me, or show me the way. And I am still a novice when it comes to my magic. So, I have decided to seek those who can help me. Those who dwell within the Caster’s Sanctum.”

Lightning struck before Vincent. Forcing him into an abrupt pause. He fell to one knee where the bolt had blocked his path. “Unless you are willing to teach me how to use the gifts you have given me. I must make my way to the sanctum.”

“The Caster’s Sanctum,” something akin to a laugh escaped the dragon. “If you have chosen that place, then the enchantment is working. Good. Make your way to the sanctum. Once there, locate the Draco Mirror Chamber. We will speak again once you find that hallowed place.”

Vincent wanted to ask more questions. Understand what the dragon had meant when he said the enchantment was working. He was never given a chance to do so. With one final roar, the winds picked up and forced Vincent over the edge.

Cold sweat dotted his brow as Vincent snapped awake. Labored breaths made him feel as though he were suffocating.

Night still hung in the sky, and the world sat quiet. Even his horse slept soundly despite the startled yell Vincent let out upon waking. He invaded my dreams. In the stories he’d read in that book Lea had given him, he had never heard of such a thing happening. Wait. Vincent narrowed his gaze. The day before the dragon had approached him, Lea had given him a book that recounted the story of May’uri and his long since deceased twin. That had to be more than a coincidence. It hadn’t been Lea to suggest the book. Further proving he never had a choice in all of this to begin with. Every action leading up to his departure had been planned by the dragon. It made him wonder, what other events in his life did the dragon play a hand in.