Funny how the body rests while the soul claws for meaning. Even in dreams, I couldn't find peace—only the things I'd buried, clawing back up through ash.
My eyes opened. Same pulsing light. Same dark circle. My other self waited, fangs glinting in an evil, vindictive smile.
"This again," I muttered as the void curled in. "Next time, let's meet inside your head. I'll bring the nightmares."
"Felt good, didn't it? Not power borrowed—power remembered."
"That speed I used to save my friend, was that your power?" I already knew the answer. It wasn't mine. But it didn't ask permission either. Like something locked behind bone and blood had finally been let loose.
"It's your power," he said, grin widening. "You just have to accept it. Like it or not, you'll need it one day. This power was meant for your control. But that's all the time we have for today's lesson."
I bolted awake. My chest was heaving like I'd run miles. My hands clutched at things that weren't there. The room looked wrong for a breath—too bright, but real. I didn't know where I was.
And then came the beard. Torglel's face inches from mine. I screamed, swung on instinct, and cracked his cheek.
"ARE YOU TRYING TO GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK?!"
"I was just trying to wake you up," he said, rubbing his face with a wince.
"Well, I'm up now—thanks," I snapped, sarcasm dripping from every word.
We gathered at the plateau's bottom. This was our first moment as a real team. Back then we didn't know it yet.
"Alright, everyone, stand back," I said. Even now, I felt the weight of leadership settling heavy on my shoulders. I wasn't sure I had earned it. But I carried it anyway. Because someone had to.
"Well, if this doesn't impress you, nothing will. And if it does, I expect drinks later." Torglel nudged Alythiel excitedly.
Black mist swirled before me, thickening, growing—until it coalesced into Duroga's shape. Scales dark as midnight. Eyes glowing blue.
I placed my hand on his head. "Nice to see you again," I said.
"Solari, what do you require of me?" Duroga's voice echoed in my mind, deep and resonant.
"We need a ride to Soreanth."
"As you wish."
I turned to the others. "Only three of us can ride. One has to be carried. Torglel, you're best for that."
"Is this your way of paying me back for this morning?" he grumbled, a grin tugging at his lips.
"No. That's just the world keeping score."
Laboritus, Alythiel, and I climbed onto Duroga's back. His scales were cool under my grip. He leapt into the sky, circling wide before diving to scoop up Torglel.
"By Tharnak's flaming beard, Solari! May your beard grow backwards, and every goat you meet mistake you for its mother!" I couldn't help but laugh.
Alythiel's voice cut through the wind. "Where in all Sainaro did you get a dragon?"
"I know I told you dragon," I said. "But actually... he's an Umbravyrn."
Her brow arched. "Those were wiped out after the Great Dragon War."
I nodded. "They were feared for a reason." My voice dropped. "They could fold themselves between shadows, strike from angles no one could defend against. They turned the war in our favor."
"And yet... one chose you."
The horizon blurred beneath us. Shadow folding over wing.
I didn't answer. Not because I wouldn't, but because I couldn't. Even now, I had no idea why he had answered my call that day... or why he still did.
Soreanth rose from the horizon. Streets aflame. Smoke curling skyward.
Alythiel gasped—the stench of burning wood and flesh already stinging our nostrils.
I remembered its towers—once silver, now swallowed in black smoke. I remembered a bakery near the square that sold moonfruit tarts. A girl sang outside it every evening. Now, there were screams.
"Torglel, I'm going to have Duroga drop you in!" I yelled. "Tuck and roll—you'll be fine, I promise!" That was a lie, but that was tomorrow's problem.
"I AM NOT A—" Too late. Duroga released him.
He plummeted like a dwarf-shaped boulder—crashing hammer-first atop a masked assailant. The impact cratered the ground, foe crumpling beneath him.
"YOU COULD'VE DROPPED ME LOWER! ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?!" he bellowed as Duroga peeled away. I smirked. He was fine.
Duroga's tail flicked as he peeled away. Sometimes I wondered if he enjoyed it.
I scanned the chaos below. A knot of city guards, shields locked, were being forced back—overwhelmed and outnumbered.
"Duroga, over there—save them!" I pointed. He exhaled a cone of fire—incinerating the attackers. Their screams ended as ash scattered across the wind.
Duroga landed, dipped his head—almost like a bow, or maybe a judgment. I never could tell with him. He vanished in black mist.
"Thank you for saving us," said a guard at the front, stepping forward. "I am Tschumo, captain of the city guards."
"Alright, Tschumo. You and your men follow me—we're taking this city back."
We pressed through Soreanth's winding streets, tension threading every step. Somewhere beneath the stone, a distant rumble—a warning, ignored by all but us.
That uneasy calm shattered in an instant.
We reached a narrow road, barely wide enough for two. An arrow whistled—slammed into Tschumo's leg. He screamed, collapsing.
I spun, and caught a flash of movement on a rooftop. An archer, already nocking another arrow.
Laboritus's bow sang first. His shot punched through the enemy's throat.
More archers emerged, lining the rooftops above. Shadows with drawn bows.
"GET TO COVER!"
I dragged Tschumo into a side alley. Alythiel joined us, daggers drawn and eyes cold, ready for the next wave.
"Can you heal his leg?"
"Of course." Her hands glowed soft green, knitting flesh. Tschumo gritted his teeth.
I edged out, searching for the next archer.
A hiss—
Pain split my cheek, hot and sudden. Blood ran warm down my jaw. Instinct slammed me down. Arrows thunked into stone behind me.
"Laboritus, cover me!"
I launched myself at the nearest wall, fingers scrabbling for purchase. My muscles burning, heart pounding in my ears.
Ten archers waited above, shadows against the sky.
I hurled a knife—fast, desperate. It struck home. "Great, just my luck," I muttered as the first body toppled, hitting the roof with a thud loud enough to turn every archer my way. Before I could move, another fell. Laboritus' arrow punching clean through his chest, but the element of surprise was gone.
I sprinted low across the rooftop, toward an archer. Panic flashing in his eyes—he fumbled for a blade, swinging wild. I closed the distance, his slash grazing my arm. I didn't slow. My steel found his gut, felt him sag before I shoved him aside.
Arrows came in a storm—hissing, angry, relentless. I dropped to a knee, rolled behind a cracked stone statue. Two more enemies crumpled behind me. Laboritus, silently picking them off one by one.
A blade whistled overhead. I ducked, twisted—caught the archer's neck in my elbow. One hard squeeze and he went limp. I flung a smoke bomb at my feet—haze exploded around us, thick and choking.
Arrows tore blindly into the smoke. I yanked the body in front of me—felt the shudder as shafts thudded into his back, turning him into a pin cushion. I let him drop. Drove my blade into another archer. His scream breaking off as the follow-through finished him. I grabbed his bow, nocked an arrow. In the dissipating haze, I saw the last silhouette. We loosed at the same time—his arrow punched into my shoulder, white-hot pain flaring. Mine struck his chest; he toppled backward, gone.
I dropped down, wincing. Alythiel was already there.
"Just because I'm a great healer doesn't mean you can get injured like this," she said, hands glowing.
Then, softly:
"Be more careful next time."
We slipped down side streets, boots echoing off the stone as we regrouped. Laboritus took point, eyes scanning rooftops. The alleys emptied out into the open market—a sprawl of shattered stalls and toppled crates, the air thick with dust and fear.
For a heartbeat, it almost felt safe. Then the ground shuddered beneath our feet. Subtle at first. Then—worse. A low, bone-deep growl.
The street split down the middle. A golem burst from the earth—massive, jagged, glowing with arcane veins.
"EVERYBODY SCATTER!"
Guards scattered, shouts lost in the blast. Laboritus vanished in a flash of cloak and instinct. Alythiel dove beneath a shattered cart, Tschumo dragged himself behind the remains of a cracked fountain.
I didn't run away. I ran straight at it. Celerius and Mors flared into my grip—twin arcs of resolve and recklessness. I dashed around the golem, striking at joints, hands, legs. Anywhere that might break. Steel rang against stone in a storm of sparks. Each blow slid off like rain on granite. No scratch. No flinch. Just the ancient apathy of forged stone.
It raised an arm—a slab of living stone, built for destruction. I moved. Fast. Not fast enough. The fist came down like judgment. I dove sideways—
The impact shattered the world. Cobblestones exploded beneath it, the shockwave detonating outward.
It hit me—a force like the world's anger made real. I slammed into the wall. Hard. Bones shrieked. My lungs forgot how to breathe. Agony shot up my spine, every nerve raw and electric. I slid down the stones, coughing smoke, blood in my teeth.
"SOLARI!" Alythiel's voice.
The golem's foot lifted. My body couldn't move. If this was how it ended—
At least I was trying to protect someone. That counted for something. I didn't close my eyes. I wanted to see it—wanted to know how it ends. That was all I could steal from fate.
Then the sky split. A lightning bolt slammed into its chest. Stone cracked.
It exploded. Shards rained. I covered my face.
In the crater stood a figure in crimson robes. Hood down. Face shadowed. Still.
"YOU DESTROYED MY GOLEM!" A voice from the smoke. Furious.
The robed figure didn't budge.
"That was meant to level a city, not entertain a sideshow." A mage appeared on the rooftop.
Fireballs screamed toward the mystery person. The air warped with power. Even the shadows seemed to draw back. He raised a single palm—inviting, not commanding. The fire obeyed.
The fireballs stopped. Hung midair. Then the flames rushed backward, swallowing the mage. One blink—he stood defiant. The next, his scream was lost inside a pyre that burned blue, then white, then nothing at all. Only ash drifted down, settling where he'd stood.
Still my favorite mage fight ever.
I tried to stand but the pain was too much. "Who are you?"
The figure turned slightly. Ash swirled. Wind howled. A surge of blinding starlight flickered where the mage stood. The shape unraveled, pulled apart by starlight and wind, then vanished.
The scent of burnt aether hung thick. My skin itched with static, like the spell hadn't quite ended. It wasn't just power. It was warning. There was something surgical in the way he moved. Magic didn't serve him; it remembered who forged the rules. Power like that doesn't just disappear. It hides. Waits. And somehow, I knew—he wasn't done with me.
Alythiel appeared beside me, hands glowing. "A few cracked ribs. Looks like internal bleeding. You're lucky that's all." Her magic sank in—cool and steady, mending pain into something bearable.
"You really need to add 'brain repair' to your skillset," I muttered.
She punched my shoulder. "I told you to be careful."
"And yet, I'm still alive. Coincidence?"
She rolled her eyes, but relief flickered across her face. Before either of us could say more, boots scuffed stone behind us—Tschumo, limping, blood streaking his leg, eyes wide with confusion. A far-off boom shook the stones under our feet. The sky flashed. "What the hell are those explosions?"
"Probably a one-dwarf army," I chuckled.
We broke into a run, heading for the noise. And found him.
Torglel stood in a blackened plaza, surrounded by bodies. His armor steamed like a fire left too long in the rain. The stones beneath him glowed faintly, red-veined, as if fire had kissed them and decided to linger. The air shimmered with heat.
"Solari, you sneaky bastard!" He yelled, a smile betrayed his words.
"Good to see you too."
"I had to use fire magic!" he huffed. "Do you know how hungry that makes me? Fire magic eats through calories like I eat through shame at a royal banquet." He eyed a burning fruit stand, and plucked a half-charred pear, bit into it. "Tastes like ash. Disappointing."
Tschumo approached, stunned. "How did you survive this? There's fifty bodies here."
Torglel shrugged. "Would've been sixty if they hadn't run."
Tschumo just... stopped. Like his mind had tripped over the logic and face-planted.
I stepped in. "Torglel, meet Tschumo—captain of the guard. Tschumo—meet Torglel, arguably the strongest fire user in Thoringard." Tschumo grumbled about needing a drink and a healer for his mind.
Alythiel knelt beside me, tracing a careful sigil in the soot. Her voice was low, steady—
"Uponyaji Plavium."
Above, the clouds began to churn—gray against the broken sky. Thunder rumbled, gentle and distant. A cool wind swept the square. Then rain came. Not the usual kind, but heavy and bright, each drop tinged with magic. It stung where it hit broken stone, then soothed, washing away blood and pain in equal measure. The wounds of battle faded beneath the sudden storm, the air sweet with the promise of healing.
The rain didn't stop for a long time. It couldn't touch what was inside us—
But for a moment, it tried. The silence that followed was heavy.
Alythiel didn't move. Just stood in the rain, letting it soak her like memory. Her lips moved—but no words came. Her hands trembled when she lowered them. Just once. Then she tucked them into her cloak like they'd never betrayed her.
Tschumo bowed. "We are in your debt."
"It was our mission," I said, shrugging.
I turned to the others. "This is much bigger than we first thought. I need to know—are you both still with me?"
Alythiel smiled. "Someone has to keep you alive."
Laboritus nodded. "When a friend calls, I answer."
"Good, we need all the help we can get."
We rested that night, under dark skies and fading firelight. And in the silence that followed, something settled. Not fear. Not dread. Something else.
A beginning.
For the first time since the start, I felt like we were more than survivors—
More than allies thrown together by chaos.
We weren't just a team. We were a promise. Forged in ruin and resolve—
Tempered by what we hadn't faced yet.
And something old had noticed. It was watching.
Waiting. And it wanted us sharp.