The Forsaken Hero

Dragons were masters of magic. This supposedly well-known fact was recently made known to me, yet I knew beyond a doubt it was true. Its breath weapon was the single most destructive spell I’d ever witnessed. Yes, a spell, not an ability or magical technique. By observing it in the cave and during my vision, I could understand something of its soul.

The Dragon’s soul was corrupted by demonic magic, yet the characteristic chaos and unbridled rage were kept under tight reign. Its mana was used almost instinctively, seamlessly welding the dragon’s native power and the Infernal frost together. It was similar to how I’d cast my first spell, relying more on willpower and imagination than understanding.

My mind raced with possibilities. Were magic circles and runes truly the only way to cast magic? What if there was so much more than the church had recorded? I’d discovered many flaws in their presented methods, with causes ranging from a lack of resources to blatant corruption.

On the other hand, this just be the difference between magical creatures and humanoid species. Demons seemed to cast as humans did, through learning and experience, while the dragon and basilisk had no such education.

The speculation didn’t linger in my mind. Whether or not I could mimic the dragon’s magic remained uncertain, but I had already learned a lot, so I shifted my focus to a more practical matter. Soul Casting had the glaring weakness of being unable to take advantage of physical enhancements, like staffs or wands. But as I observed the dragon, it displayed no such limitations.

It was impossible to determine whether magic circles were truly used, as the actual casting of the spell was done internally, yet I could assume as much. After casting the spell, the dragon somehow condensed the completed spell into a stream of raw mana, which then flowed out of its soul and crafted the breath’s attack. While it technically exposed the spell to countermagic, such a method also overcame Soul Casting’s flaws. If I could create a way to mimic the dragon’s technique, my magic would reach newfound heights.

Unfortunately, understanding the principle was far from enough to invent an entirely new discipline of magic, but at least I had somewhere to start.

The next two days passed in a flash. Whenever I wasn’t sleeping, I was experimenting with Soul Casting. The others worked tirelessly, but progress was slow. It felt like we were slowly crawling, with every passing hour bringing only a few dozen feet of progress. As we progressed, we ran into countless cracks and crevasses from the cave-in, which proved easy to dig through and replenished our constantly dwindling supply of air.

At long last, the soft glow of distant sunlight sank through the ceiling, breaking into the cave with a burst of fresh air. Shouting with joy, Soltair summoned remaining his mana and punched through the roof of the cave, blasting several tons of rock out of the way. Relief surged through me as the pale light of magical illumination gave way to the brilliance of the open sky.

”At last,” Trithe sighed, sagging wearily against the wall. The unending toil had been particularly grueling for her slight frame, which possessed none of the natural bulk held by Soltair or Fyren.

The surface beckoned, a mere thirty feet above us, but the walls were far too sheer to climb. Fyren offered his hand, but I shook my head, taking a deep breath as mana saturated my soul. While I’d been unable to attain the kind of ability the dragon exhibited, my mana control had come a long way.

”Binding Winds,” I called, Soul Casting the second circle spell.

A rush of wind appeared beneath my feet, caressing my soles and pushing me upward. I staggered, nearly losing my balance atop the unpredictable gale, but managed to regain my footing. My heart leaped in my throat each time the winds dipped beneath me, but, sweating profusely, I managed to make it to the rim.

”Did you just... fly?” Soltair asked, mouth agape.

”K-kind of.” I took a long, shuddering breath, my tail twitching nervously, and muttered, ”But I’d rather not do that again.” The simple structure of the Binding Winds spell wasn’t designed for such a purpose, and it had taken everything I had to prevent myself from tumbling through the unpredictable currents to the ground below.

”Quite impressive, even if it looked like you’d fall a few times. Was that your first time attempting that?” Fyren asked, alighting beside me.

”Yeah.” I looked down into the hole, feeling a thrill of unease shoot through me. It looked a lot deeper now than it had at the bottom, and I instantly regretted my recklessness.

Trithe jumped up after Fyren, her face twisting in pain as she landed unsteadily. Soltair was quick to catch her, offering his shoulder for her to lean on. She did so readily, but the tightness around her eyes never faded.

Eyeing her with concern, Soltair said, ”Why don’t we rest for a day before going after the dragon? It’s been long enough that if it wanted to do something, it would have.”

’ ”Not a bad idea,” Fyren nodded. His shoulders carried an uncharacteristic slump to them, and his eyes seemed slightly dull.

As the three found places to stretch their bedrolls out, I looked around, shocked at the changes in the region. Following the cave-in the entire mountain had collapsed, forming a sunken caldera nearly a mile in diameter. The ground consisted of heaps of earth and jagged boulders, without a plant in sight, like the mountain had turned itself inside out.

The mountains behind the ruined peak were intact, as was the swamp below, but countless rockfalls and mudslides transformed the hills in between. I glanced anxiously toward Viriden but found our new elevation had dropped so much as to render a sight of the city impossible. While the city in my vision hadn’t looked at all similar, I couldn’t help but worry.

As the rest of the party settled down, exhaustion etching lines on their faces, I found a small boulder to perch on, overlooking the transformed landscape. With the three asleep, I could finally assume the responsibility of keeping watch.

”Finally,” I muttered, leaning back against the rock.

How many times through our journey had I been allowed to sleep the entire night? Although I knew they’d never admit it, constantly being relegated to the sidelines was a statement of my worth and equity among the party. I’d long lost count of the frustrated glances Soltair and Trithe gave me during the excavation when they thought I hadn’t been looking. At this point, keeping watch was perhaps a trifle, but an undeniable sense of satisfaction flowed through me.

Leaning back against the rock, I sighed in contentment. An unfamiliar twitch played across my lips, teasing muscles I scarcely knew existed. Perhaps I was just in a good mood now that we were free of the oppressive darkness of the depths, but watching the sleeping faces of my companions brought an indescribable sense of warmth. Perhaps, sometime in the future, I would suffer at their hands, but I pushed that thought away. Today, we survived together, and I got to keep watch. That was enough for now.