The Forsaken Hero

Within seconds, we gathered around Trithe, looking down at a long line of tracks in the ground. The mud here was frozen solid, with ice crystals creeping away from the prints. They were impossibly huge, stretching twice as long as I was tall, and looked somewhat like the lizard tracks I’d seen on Earth. The points of the claws plunged several feet into the ground, breaking through the mud into solid ground.

”What in the world?” Soltair asked, mouth dropping. ”No not my world. We didn’t have these here. Is this a dragon?”

”They’re rare this close to the Divine Throne, but I can’t imagine what else it would be,” Trithe said. She crouched beside a nearby track and ran her finger along the imprint, finding the hard ridged textures its scales left in the ground. ”Judging by its claws, it must be several hundred feet long.”

”Where do they normally live?” Fyren asked, glancing at Trithe.

”I’m not sure, but they don’t show up in Radia. Anytime one does, it is immediately hunted down by someone dispatched from the Divine Throne. I guess that’s our job now,” Trithe replied wryly.

”I didn’t think we’d meet it so soon. How strong are the ice dragons?” Soltair asked excitedly.

She snorted, rolling her eyes in disdain. ”As if I’d know. Any dragon is supposedly the epitome of power, commanding spells and magical techniques far above things most mortals can comprehend. I heard stories as a girl that a young dragon broke out of an imperial encirclement in the Cerxov Emperor and destroyed three cities before a ninth-level mage took it down. But dragons are so intelligent they rarely risk appearing in public. Most of them live far from civilization doing who knows what.”

”I see, thank you,” Fyren said, eyeing her curiously. ”You certainly know a lot.”

Trithe puffed out her chest, causing her breasts to bulge against her leather armor. ”Of course. As the daughter of a City Lord, this much is expected. My lessons covered nearly everything that might potentially endanger my father’s land, which naturally included powerful monsters. Dragons especially, as they are considered walking calamities.”

Soltair cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from her chest. ”I say we follow the tracks. It’s nearly dawn, so there’s no point in going back to bed.”

”Do you think we can fight something like that?” I asked, looking back down at the tracks. The thought that a creature could grow so big forced my imagination to stretch beyond its limits. The basilisk’s size had left me terrified, so what about a dragon many times larger?

Soltair chuckled, glancing between Trithe and Fyren. ”I’d say so. Fire is kind of our party’s specialty at this point, and Sun Magic is the next best thing against ice monsters. Besides, it found us last night, but left before attacking. Perhaps it realized the difference between us and ran off.”

The tracks passed uncomfortably close to the hut we spent the night in. Shivers ran down my spine as I thought of such a powerful monster nearby while I slept in ignorance. Could I truly compete against something acclaimed as a master of magic? I had confidence in my abilities, as paltry as they were, but anything at Soltair’s level was simply beyond my grasp.

After examining the tracks for any other clues, we returned to the shack to gather the remainder of our things. I reluctantly stored my bedroll, which retained a lingering warmth from the night’s rest. While Soltair might not notice departing in the middle of the night, I had trouble keeping my eyes open. The grueling march through the swamp wasn’t something I could shake off with a few hours of sleep.

As though sensing my worry, Fyren placed a hand on my shoulder. ”Are you going to be okay?”

”Yes,” I lied. ”We’ve been delayed long enough.” I was painfully aware of what Soltair alluded to yesterday.

He gazed at me for some time, and I looked away. ”I’m fine. My feet are all healed, see?”

I gave my boots a half-hearted kick and he sighed. ”Don’t push yourself too hard.”

”I won’t.”

As if that had ever been an option for me. Time was moving all too quickly, and my future was far from guaranteed. Over the past few days, I’d begun testing the limits of the Slave Crest and could feel it weakening. Adaptive Resistance was still too weak, yet I knew it wouldn’t be long now.

Soltair poked his head back through the door, the height difference of the stilts making his face appear close to the floorboards. ”You guys coming?”

”I’ll be right out,” I called, slinging my spatial satchel over my shoulder.

Fyren grunted, and I forced myself to stand tall under his concerned gaze. Although my tail twitched, I managed to keep the tremble from my legs. Once we were in the swamp, hiding my exhaustion was easy, as I usually fell behind. Although the party cast frequent glances in my direction, I just complained of the thick mud. It was an easy excuse to sell, as none of them were capable of determining just how much effort it took to slog through. Their inhumane strength allowed them to tear through the frozen ground with ease.

After a few hours, the mud began to disappear beneath layers of ice. Ferns and reeds curled beneath the weight of frost, bending over until their heads brushed the ground. The air was cold, too, although, due to my wards, our only indication was the cloudy mist that accompanied every breath. After another mile, the ground hardened entirely, allowing us to track across the tundra-like marsh.

The end of the swamp came abruptly, but the only indication of that was a change in the frost-ridden flora. The forest of slender pines and firs glittered under the afternoon sun, giving every impression of a winter landscape.

”We’ve got to be close,” Soltair complained, breaking our hours-long silence. ”How much colder can it get?”

”A lot,” Fyren muttered. ”Where monsters are concerned, it can get cold enough to crack the bones of even the hardiest undead.”

Trithe glanced at him, eyes laced with interest. ”What a specific experience. Is there a story behind that?”

”Yes.”

We waited expectantly for more, but Fyren merely smiled. As Trithe’s lips parted in a pout, a deafening roar shattered the peaceful forest. The trees shivered, clacking together in a chaotic cacophony of frozen leaves, and I clutched at my pointed ears, cursing my sensitive hearing.

When at last the dreadful noise faded, Soltair chuckled. ”Yup, we’re close!”

Before we could protest, he took off, disappearing through the woods. Trithe ran after him, leaving Fyren and me alone... again.

”We’d best not get left behind,” Fyren said with a huff.

The woods made better terrain than the marshes, but I struggled to keep pace with them. Every snarl and branch clawed at my feet, whereas they relied on their strength, ignorantly smashing through them. I tripped soon after, earning a long, bloody scratch across my cheek, and added an Aegis to the Nexus. It wouldn’t stand against a dragon’s claws, but it kept aggressive flora at bay.

After what felt like an eternity, we stumbled through a break in the trees. Short, squat houses formed a ring within the clearing, forming a small village. Unlike the swamp huts, this one followed the style of the other human villages we’d passed through. The structures were as frozen as the forest and seemed entirely abandoned.

Although exhausted, I tapped my mana and activated the Eyes of Fate, scanning the village for irregularity. My gaze was drawn to a lone mountain rising from the forest behind the village, or, more accurately, the massive, three-hundred-foot magic circle spinning around its peak.