I once again found myself within Aeron's library, surrounded by magical tomes. Where a single one of them could turn a nobody into a king if they had access to them. The sad reality was that, because of whatever the 'gods' did to our cores, we were practically incapable of practicing normal wizardry. The false attunements, like my lightning and space affinity, were parasites that drained energy from my real affinities as well as my core to sustain themselves. Looking longingly at the pages of magic that were never meant to be, I forced my eyes away from it with a heavy heart. Nothing could ever be simple, could it?
"You are lucky, you know," Aeron spoke while reading a book, never lifting his eyes from the yellowed pages.
"Oh? Explain to me what part of my miserable existence has been lucky, Aeron?" Bjorn and most of my squad were dead, and it was all my fault. If only I had gone there instead, maybe they would still be alive.
"Your affinity for soul magic is completely unaffected by the parasites." My eyes widened at his words as I stared at him in shock. "These false divines may be powerful, but only Solomon and Lunesra have dominion over souls. While most affinities are tied to one's energy circuit in some way. Soul magic is not; it does not even run off mana." He paused for a second as he flipped the page of his book. "That is one of the reasons I had you learn soul well. Instead of using your own soul for magic. Why not use pieces of your enemies' souls instead?" For the first time since the conversation began, Aeron raised his eyes from the book, looking directly at me. For some reason, it looked like his skull was grinning.
The image sent a slight shiver through my spine. It reminded me just how powerful the being tied to my soul really was. "Sit down, Drakkus, this is going to be a long conversation." With a wave of his hand, an embroidered chair appeared opposite him.
—
"I don't know how he is still alive." The healer said as he double checked his magical apparatus. "The dagger pierces one of his lungs and is stabbed into his diaphragm. The only thing keeping him alive is the innate regeneration of the elves." Checking his pulse again, the healer shook his head. "There is nothing we can do except wait for his recovery. If he ever does."
Jurgen listened to all of this with clenched fists. If anyone could make it through this, it would be Drakkus. In his one hundred years of life, he had never met anyone with a stronger determination. Without looking back, he left the room, not deigning to give the healer a response.
—
"You're doing it wrong, you dimwit." Aeron smacked me over the head in frustration. For the better part of an hour, with little success, I had been attempting to reach oneness with my soul. It was the very first lesson of any soulmancer. Where you had to reach so far into your inner being that you reach what is called the soulscape. Although difficult, it is still considered a basic ability. But, no matter how I tried, I just could not do it. There was a resistance that I just could not overcome.
After another failed attempt, I released a tired sigh. "I just can't do it. It feels like trying to scale an insurmountable wall."
Aeron watched me intently for an uncomfortable amount of time before responding. "Our time is up anyway. If you don't return to your body soon, it will cause… Complications."
I would never admit it outwardly, but a part of me was disgusted with using the souls of my enemies as a fuel for power. It's one thing to make them suffer while alive, but to do so even in death is an abhorrent act that I struggled to justify. Aeron waved his hand once more, and the library vanished along with him. The first thing that struck me was pain. My entire body was set ablaze in mind-numbing pain. The second was a sharp, sterilized smell of herbs and some disgusting concoction spread across my wounds.
When I opened my eyes, I was convinced I had gone mad. Sitting next to me was a mountain of a man with dark brown hair and a thick beard. Had I been more wounded than I had first assumed? Was I in a state of delirium to be seeing the specter of Bjorn here? Or was it my guilt that made me see him? All such thoughts were wiped from my mind when he jumped from his seat and rushed to my side. He squeezed my shoulder, causing me to wince in pain as he put pressure on my wound. Huh, when did I get that? I wondered as my mind began to wander. I was struggling to stay on a single thought as one thing flashed after the next. I had some vague memory of standing in the courtyard, bloodied and bruised, but that was it. I saw as Bjorn moved his lips, saying something, when I realized I could not hear him. Above the ringing in my head.
—
Bjorn's brows furrowed the moment he felt the tension in Drakkus's body. The way his muscles tightened beneath his grip, the unfocused gaze, the shallow, uneven breaths—none of it spoke of recovery. It was the look of a man clinging to consciousness by sheer force of will.
"Stay with me," Bjorn said, his voice lower now, steadier, though the urgency beneath it was unmistakable. When Drakkus failed to respond, his grip tightened instinctively before he forced himself to release some of the pressure. He had already caused enough pain.
Without another word, Bjorn rose to his full height and turned toward the door. "Get a healer in here. Now," he barked at the nearest soldier, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. When the man failed to move immediately, frozen for a fraction of a second under the weight of his presence, Bjorn stepped forward, his expression darkening. "If he dies because you were too slow, I will personally see to it that you regret it." Bjorn practically growled at him.
The soldier scrambled out of the room, nearly tripping over himself in his haste. Bjorn exhaled sharply before turning back to the bed, his gaze softening just slightly as it settled on Drakkus. "Don't you dare die on me," he muttered under his breath, though whether it was a command or a plea, even he could not tell.
—
Sound began to fade. Not all at once, but slowly, as though it were being pulled away from him piece by piece. The ringing in his ears grew louder, drowning out whatever Bjorn had been saying. My vision dimmed once more, the world around me blurring into indistinct shapes and shifting shadows. Then, without warning, the pain vanished. It was not relief. It was an absence. And that absence was far more unsettling to my hazy mind. Darkness crept in at the edges of his vision before swallowing everything whole.
—
Fire. It was the first thing I saw. Or more aptly, it was all that I saw. Not the chaotic blaze of a battlefield, nor the controlled burn of a forge, but something far more absolute. The flames stretched endlessly in every direction, consuming without discrimination. They did not crackle or roar as normal fire would. Instead, they burned in silence, their presence felt rather than heard. I stood within it. Or perhaps I was part of it; the distinction was still unclear.
The heat did not scorch my flesh, yet it pressed against me all the same, seeping into something deeper than my body. Each flicker of flame felt… familiar, in a way that unsettled me more than the fire itself. Memories stirred at the edges of my mind. Fragments of a past I could not fully grasp. The sensation of being consumed. The feeling of something being stripped away, layer by layer, until nothing remained but what could not be destroyed. But, not just once, it happened over and over again for what felt like an eternity.
The fire pulsed, and with it, something else moved beneath the surface. Not a presence in the conventional sense, but a weight. An awareness that did not think or speak, yet acknowledged me all the same. It coiled within the flames, vast and incomprehensible, its attention brushing against me for the briefest of moments. A question formed in the back of my mind, though I could not say where it came from.
Was this power? Or was this the price I had to pay?
The flames surged. And at the edge of his vision, I saw a figure. That was completely burned until only blackened bones remained. The white fire surrounding him added to his mystery. Our eyes met, more like I met the glowing orbs of fire it had for eyes. The being merely shook its head in denial.
For an instant, I felt as though I were being pulled deeper, drawn toward the center of it all, where the fire burned brightest. The sensation was not physical, yet it carried an undeniable force, as though something within him resonated with what lay beyond.
Then—
Cracks formed all around me.
Thin at first, barely noticeable, like fractures spreading across glass. They ran through the fire itself, distorting the endless blaze into something unstable. The world around him began to splinter, pieces of it breaking away into nothingness. The fire flickered before fading, and in the blink of an eye, it was all gone.
—
Pain returned like a blade driven into my body. Air rushed into his lungs in a ragged inhale, my chest tightening violently as my body struggled to reassert itself. The sterile scent of herbs flooded my senses once more, grounding me in reality, whether I welcomed it or not.
Voices echoed around me, distant yet urgent. The sound of footsteps surrounded me. Yet somewhere beyond my awareness I could still feel the fire calling to me.