"Visualize heat. Fire. Like my magic."
Leon took the stone, its weight grounding him slightly.
"Fire, huh?" he said, forcing a shaky grin. "Guess I'm borrowing your powers." He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the distant drums and the chill in the air.
He pictured fire—crackling flames, like the ones he'd seen in anime or the campfire in his favorite RPGs.
His mind wandered to Saria's fiery aura from the ritual, the way it had flared around her hands.
The stone grew warm in his grip, and a spark of excitement cut through his fear.
Maybe I can do this.
The warmth grew hotter, too hot, and Leon's eyes snapped open as the stone glowed red and his hands lit in fire.
"Crap, crap, fire!" he yelped, flinging it away. It hit the ground with a dull thud, a faint wisp of smoke curling from its surface.
He stared at his hand, expecting burns, but his skin was unmarked, tingling with a strange energy.
"What the hell was that?" he said, his voice high with panic.
Saria's face remained blank, but her eyes flicked to the stone, then back to him. "Your magic," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "Or to be precise, my borrowed magic. Your body adapts to it. You're a healer, but you can channel my magic, my fire through your magic." She picked up the stone, unfazed by its heat, and handed it back to him.
"Try again. Control it this time."
Leon's jaw dropped. "Control it? I almost set my hand on fire!" His voice was a mix of fear and exasperation, but he took the stone, his hands trembling.
"Okay, fine. I'll try." He closed his eyes again, gripping the stone tighter. This time, he focused on a smaller flame, like a candle, picturing it flickering in his palm.
The stone warmed again, but slower, a steady heat that didn't burn. He opened his eyes, grinning despite himself. "Hey, I did it! No fire this time!"
Granny Elda, leaning against a nearby wall, snorted. "Barely. You're like a baby with a torch, flailing around." Her cackle grated on Leon's nerves, but he ignored her, his chest swelling with a tiny spark of pride.
Saria nodded, her expression unchanged.
"It's a start. You'll need more practice, but it'll do for now." She turned toward the sound of the drums, her hand resting on her sword.
"The front line's that way. We need to join the defenders. You'll heal, I'll fight."
Leon's brief moment of confidence evaporated. "Front line?" he squeaked, his eyes widening.
"Like, actual fighting? With monsters?" His mind flashed to the goblin in the basement, its snarling face and the sickening squelch of the dagger. He wasn't ready for more of that—not even close.
Saria's gaze was unrelenting. "Yes. You're a healer. You keep our fighters alive. I'll handle the rest." She started walking toward the drums, her steps steady and purposeful. "Stay close."
Leon stumbled after her, the stone still clutched in his hand, its warmth a small comfort against the growing dread in his gut.
The village's empty streets seemed to close in around him, the boarded-up houses and distant screams painting a picture of a town on its last legs.
I'm not a hero, he thought, his heart pounding. I'm just a guy who got zapped into a fantasy world.
But Saria's fire magic, the curse they'd broken, and the faint spark of his own power told him he couldn't run.
Not now.
As they neared the edge of the village, the drums grew louder, joined by the clash of steel and guttural roars.
Shadows moved in the fog, and Leon's grip on the stone tightened.
He glanced at Saria, her face still a blank mask, her sword now drawn and glinting in the moonlight.
"You've got this," she said, her voice low but firm, the first hint of encouragement he'd heard from her.
Leon forced a shaky nod, his throat too tight to speak.
He wasn't sure if he believed her, but her words were enough to keep him moving.
Eldwood needed him, and somehow, he'd have to find the courage to be more than the nervous, nerdy gamer he'd always been.