The Dragon And The Author

Chapter 1: An Impossible Encounter

“Demon! Come out and face us!” cried out the ironclad knight as he drew his sword. He pointed it toward the gigantic stone tower atop the hill, exuding a heroic feeling as he did. Nothing seemed to happen for a few fleeting moments, the stillness only broken by a small breeze. Without warning, the ground began to tremble as a deep and powerful laughter rang out. From within the structure emerged a sinister shadow, impossibly large in stature compared to the one who called for it. To see it clearly was a task in itself, for even the moonlight did little to shed the supernatural dark it was shrouded in, save for the bright and burning eyes that looked on. It perched itself atop the tower, rasping saber length claws against the aged stonework as it stared down at the group with glee.

“My my,” the deep voice boomed while looking over the group with its vertical pupils, “another herd of deathbound, and so soon after the last.”

It leapt from the tower, unfurling a grand set of wings reminiscent of a bat. It descended to the ground just below, each flap of its wings producing a powerful gust. The group stumbled as they tried to keep themselves from falling over. It laid itself down like a cat, not threatened in the slightest by the group.

“Foul terror on these lands, Fayten himself has commanded that we bring an end to your days of slaying Herotiun’s heroes!”

The cloud of black gave a brief chuckle at the knight’s words.

“I’ll admit, it’s been a while since the last pack of cretins claiming they had the support of the gods stood before me. You pitiful lot have fortunate timing though. As I’m in a sporting mood, I’ll allow the last one standing among you the privilege of continuing to live, after we finish.”

From beneath his helmet, the knight ground his teeth in anger at the display of arrogance. Before he could act out of turn, a hand swaddled by a light grey robe touched his shoulder.

“Don’t listen to that beast Sir Gallond. Fayten’s guidance will surely see us through, we only need to follow.”

The knight, Gallond as he was called, nodded at the reassurance of his cleric companion and composed himself. Arfael the cleric then began to enwreathe his staff with a wondrous hue of magic, chanting the words that the god of fate whispered in his ear. Gallond turned once more to face the terrifying creature, still laying about.

“You need not make such an offer demon! Fayten himself has given us the seed of your undoing!”

With a mocking chuckle, the huge thing before them began to draw thin lines of visible mana in the air with a claw

“What is it this time eh? A sword bathed in the tears of virgins? An arrowhead crafted from the rays of dawn? Perhaps an axe carved from a sacred tree?” It drew out the shapes of what it had described as it did so. “I assure you, I have heard them all.”

Now was the knight’s chance to play upon the beast’s confidence.

“Far better! We have a spell that will rewrite your fate! Nothing can stop it! Especially not a vile demon!” he announced back with as much gusto as he could produce.

A giant fist hit the ground with shattering force, dissipating the mana drawings the creature had made.

“Still your tongue deathbound!” the creature had said ferociously, dropping the playful manner of speech it had, “I will not sit idle while you lie to my face! There exists no such spell, any and all can be made inert!”

Just what he had wanted, the bait was taken.

“He utters no lies, demon!” chimed in Percival the rogue, seemingly aware of the plan. “If you don’t believe him, then just try to stop it!”

The cleric continued to make the spell manifest, reciting the words as they were relayed to him bit by bit.

Angry growling came from the living darkness before being replaced by laughter, this time more subdued.

“So that’s your ploy then? I am no wyrmling, this attempt at goading me is neither clever nor well performed.”

“Wyrmling?” asked Willow, the elven huntress of the group.

With a wave of its hand, the shadow surrounding the creature had withered away back into nothing. What came out of it was not a demon, but a black dragon bearing a toothy grin.

“A dragon!?” exclaimed a startled Gallond as the dragon laid itself bare.

“Indeed, I am. Even if you all spent your entire lives learning spellcrafting, you could never come close to my knowledge of the art. Go ahead, cast your meager little spell.”

It then stood upon its back legs, taking a bipedal stance as it towered above the group even more than before. It left itself wide open, snickering as it waited.

“But why do this if you knew what we were doing?” asked the knight.

“So that you may know despair unlike any other, knowing you never had a chance. It makes what comes after even better.” said the dark dragon bluntly.

Gallond turned to the still chanting Arfael.

“You are absolutely sure this is going to work, right?”

Willow lightly punched him.

“Have some faith! He can’t do his thing if you interrupt him!”

Arfael had finally finished the incantation, guided by the words of Fayten.

“Fayten’s Will!” proclaimed the aged cleric as he pointed his staff at the monster. His staff gave off an overpowering energy, flinging a blindingly bright ball of multicolored splendor towards the dragon. It made no attempts to dodge the orb of power, keeping its stance solid and unmoving. It suddenly raised its palm to the oncoming spell, saying in a stern voice “Unravel!”

With those words, the colorful orb fizzled away into nothingness, leaving only a shocked audience and the spell’s disappointed destroyer.

“Ugh, mortal spellcrafting, as shameful as ever.” the beast said as it wiped its clawed hand upon the ground, repulsed.

“Arfael,” the knight whispered over to the cleric in a hush, “was that supposed to happen?”

Arfael’s terror stricken face was a sufficient enough answer for the knight, who had now begun to lose his vigor.

“Finally see your folly then?” the dragon gloated from above the group, “You hadn’t been given a boon from the gods, they’ve long been silent. The forces of magic will always kneel before their true master, me. Now then-”

With a show of stretching its relatively slender limbs, it started to advance upon the group slowly on all fours, like the gigantic predator it was. “-I hope that wasn’t all you had, or this might just be over too soon!”

Each huge step forward forced the group further and further back, none of them daring to take their eyes off the dangerous creature. If they had, an early grave was assured. As they were backing off, Percival noticed something behind the dragon.

Since it would be impossible to lose them in such a position, the creature craned its head around to see what would demand the human’s attention for even a moment.

Swirling with multicolored power, the orb had returned from nothing. And it was now much faster. And it was about to collide with its body.

Even with the surprisingly agile movement the dragon was able to pull out, twisting completely around and hopping to the side, it was no use.

There was no dodging the rapidly approaching spell, it followed its target as though it had been given a mind of its own, changing course seamlessly.

“Unravel!” commanded the great beast once again, thrusting out a forceful palm.

Unlike before, the orb didn’t go away completely. This time, it merely stopped in place and shrunk till it was akin to a marble. It was only temporary though, growing back threefold its original size in mere seconds. Once the growth spurt had finished, it began speeding towards the dragon again, who had started taking large steps back.

“Bah! This is nothing!” it shouted to nobody in particular as it started making complex and precise movements with both hands, held up by its large tail.

The group had begun to reorganize now that they were given room to breathe, wanting to make the best of the opportunity they had been given.

“Willow,” said Arfael to the huntress as he grasped her gloved hands, “Fayten has declared you will be the one to bring an end to this. Take aim.”

Finished crafting its desired spell, the dragon raised its arms above head, prepared to release it.

“Spell Shattering War-” it began before being interrupted by an arrow to the snout, causing it to scrunch up its face. Those fiery reptilian eyes looked over at the archer that had done so with the rage dragons were known for, before realizing what had just happened with a startled expression. Concentration was lost just long enough to break the spell it had made, and there wasn’t enough time to attempt it or any other again. It was already there, it was too late.

The multicolored ball smashed against the beast’s hide, shattering into a prismatic shower.

As the wave of magic washed over it, the dragon seemed to almost pulsate with a faint light.

It tried in vain to purge the magic from its body with growing desperation, but nothing could halt the spell. Every pulse took with it a portion of its power, leeching away the strength of the beast with great efficiency.

With opportunity right in front of him, Gallond rallied the group to charge the dragon as it fell deeper into its panic. Seeing the group scurrying up to it was enough to bring the dragon’s mind around to a more unified line of thought. Knowing full well what would happen if it stuck around, it instead stopped trying to cancel out the spell and spun its two index claws in a circular fashion.

“Swift Exit!” it shouted as two separate beams flew from its claws a distance away, combining into a completely opaque portal. It took to the air with difficulty, looking down upon the mortals. With speed unbefitting something so huge, it swooped towards the group like a bird of prey. With its giant claws, it grabbed at the cleric Arfa-

With his great claws, the black dragon Kinsoriel grabbed the puny cloaked figure standing in the middle of the group. This deathbound ‘cleric’ as they called them was the one who had made this accursed spell that refused to be undone. If he couldn’t be rid of it himself, its creator would do so for him. Once its purpose is fulfilled and the spell broken, it would make for excellent bait, luring the rest of them to their well earned demise. A terrific plan which could only be thought of on such short notice by one of his caliber of course. With hostage in hand, he flew through the portal with as much vigor as he could still muster.

Shrieking violently as it was crossed, the portal closed behind its caster, leaving him gliding in the mountainous forest he had thought of when conjuring it. For whatever reason, he could no longer feel his strength being drained. His stamina was still depleted beyond what he could withstand, and he felt his wings begin to fail. Using the last bit of energy he was left with, he glided as close to the ground as he could. Now entirely spent and unable to maintain his flight, he crashed into the ground just beneath him, sending all within it hurtling to the side. Eyelids heavy from exhaustion, he decided to take a short rest amongst the debris he created. Just a short rest of course. He closed his eyes for just a moment and let sleep take him.

…

It was shorter than he would have liked however. His captive feebly attempted to escape his grasp, only serving to rouse him from his nap.

“Hmmm…?” said the dragon in a half grumble, not ready to wake up just yet. Groggily, he cast a glance with a lidded eye at his soon to be bait. It had wisely stopped struggling when it had his attention. In comparison to the other wretches he had slain, the human he held reacted strangely. No begging for its life, no empty threats; just a look of surprise upon its disfigured, muzzleless face. Looking at it, Kinsoriel noticed something off with his prisoner. It was wearing a cloak, but it didn’t actually seem to be the ‘cleric’ he had intended to abduct. It was much younger looking, and its cloak was nearly pristine. In fact, he didn’t even remember seeing this one amongst the rest of the rabble.

This possibility was enough to fully wake him. He sat himself up in a more comfortable position, peering down upon the human with great intensity. As he verified his fears, the thing had the audacity to speak out.

“You can see me… right?” it asked in a voice befitting a male. Kinsoriel didn’t care either way, because he still wasn’t the right human. Something wasn’t right here, and his comment cemented this further.

“Of course I can you diminutive little thing, and I want answers right this instant.”

The man in his hand simply frowned with a huff, as though this was all just a minor inconvenience.

“I can’t really answer any questions. I really shouldn’t even be talking to you right now. How about you let me go and we just go our separate ways?”

Had he less patience, this infuriatingly casual attitude would warrant a lesson paid in blood. Even the foolhardy deathbound who thought they would win gave him his owed respect.

“Unless you feel you can live without all your limbs, you will tell me what I want to know.”

Kinsoriel decided to accentuate his demand with a squeeze. Just enough to fracture a rib or two of course, to show he made no empty threats. The moment he attempted to lightly crush the man though, he disappeared from his grasp. He looked down at and around his hands dumbfounded, seeing no trace whatsoever of his captive.

“Geez,” he heard from behind him, “you are really quick to anger.”

Turning his head around, he saw the robed man sitting on a tree branch. Without thinking, he thrust out a hand to try and grab him. The speed at which he did this should have been a guaranteed capture, but he felt nothing but air between his claws.

“Oh knock it off,” came beside him, “that isn’t going to work.”

At that very moment, Kinsoriel decided that he wouldn’t mind the possibility of being denied answers, as long as he could get his hands on this pest.

“Hey!” cried the man as the dragon smashed a fist where he once stood. “Would you stop that?” he asked in annoyance as the dragon kept trying and failing to splatter him into the floor. Thinking this to be the work of some form of magic, he decided to fight fire with fire and pointed a claw at him.

“Depriving Net!” he yelled as an ethereal net was conjured above the man. It fell upon him successfully, sealing away any possibility of using his magic again. A splendid spell of his own design, made to deal with actually dangerous magic users. With a sadistic grin, he sauntered over to the man and raised a fist up high.

“Oh this is truly a shame, it could have been avoided if you just gave me what I wanted you know. Goodbye.” With that, he brought down his fist… Only to once again be met with nothing but grass.

“Hello.”

Growling to himself, he went all out in his attempts to end the life of this loathsome man. This was all for naught however. Many minutes and fruitless attempts later, he found himself tired from all the exertion. It was inconceivable how effective this one spell could be, especially one that was not spoken or intoned. Even enchanted gear needed a command to work, and their effects didn’t linger for this long. Kinsoriel looked at the man in his new spot with confusion and anger.

“What kind of spell is this? Why can’t I get you? What’s going on? WHY?”

Dusting himself off with a sigh, the man actually approached him.

“Are you done having your little tantrum then? I’ll tell you if you really want to know, but you need to promise to me that you won’t keep trying to hurt or kill me. Understand?”

Kinsoriel scowled at the presumptuous request, but didn’t try anything.

“And just why would I do that? You have no idea what that means for a dragon.”

This for some reason elicits a chuckle from the man.

“I actually do. ‘Let none of us willingly speak in mistruths or break our word, lest we lose our gift of strength from Valorian and become lesser beings’. Does that sound about right?”

The black dragon raised his brow in surprise. “You know the Draconic Canon?”

The man nodded. “Indeed. Now, promise.”

The longer it went on, the more Kinsoriel just had to know. He still wanted to make this disrespectful stain on his world regret making a fool of him however, and he would never get a chance if he made this promise. Then he thought of a devious idea.

“Very well. I, Kinsoriel, son of Ortremel, promise that I will not harm OR kill you.”

The man crossed his arms, but relented soon after.

“That works for me. Alright, ask me whatever you want.”

Wonderful. Now he would get his answers, and later down the line someone else would get his revenge for him. A loophole was a dragon’s best friend.

“Good. What is it that makes you elude my grasp? What spell is it?”

The man scratched the back of his head as he pondered what he would say. “Well, it isn’t a spell so much as it is a rule.”

Kinsoriel blinked at the explanation. “...A rule? And just what is this rule?”

Looking around the area, the man sat himself upon a rock. “The Author can’t be harmed by his creations. Same with being seen.”

The dragon looked for any sign of a lie from this weird man’s face, but saw none. “And I am to believe you are this ‘Author’?”

The man nodded in confirmation. “Yes. My name is Benjamin, and I am the Author of this world.”

Chapter 2: Unlikely Walking Companions

The black dragon looked down upon this Benjamin as he had called himself, not completely certain of what to say.

“Do you mean you are one of those bards then?”

It was unlikely he was a bard given his lack of an instrument and very average sounding voice, but they were much more likely to know spellcraft than some run of the mill writer.

“No, I am THE author,” he reasserted from his sat position, “and I created everything here.”

What. Kinsoriel didn’t bother hiding the confusion from his face as he thought of what this odd man was spouting.

“Elaborate.” He ordered simply.

Benjamin stood up and waved an arm across the landscape in presentation.

“Everything that exists here, I wrote it to be so. All the creatures, all the continents, everything.”

He then turned back and pointed a finger to the dragon. “And you.”

Nothing from what he said sounded like a lie, he really believed his words. So, that’s what he was. He wasn’t some gifted mage, nor was he a genius in magical theory. He was some town reject who had wandered into his territory, and the gods took pity upon his miserable lot, blessing him immensely. That they would do something like this after centuries of inaction, to bless a deathbound of all things who would credit himself for their creations, that was just as awful an explanation. Even so, It was far more believable than… that. The fact that he was even considering such a blasphemy to be the real explanation was telling.

Kinsoriel rose and started the walk back to his tower, not willing to waste any more time interacting with this strange deathbound.

“W-where are you going?” asked the mad man as he struggled to follow.

“We are done here, where I go does not concern you. Farewell.”

As he pushed through the contents of the forest, he couldn’t help but notice how large the trees appeared to be. Maybe they had just grown since he had last been here. It had been a long time after all, though he wouldn’t have guessed trees could grow so quickly. Why, the height difference reminded him of when he was still maturing. His thoughts were pushed aside by the stubborn fool, still trying to keep pace with his large steps.

“What do you mean by that!? Hey, wait!”

Pathetic. This ‘Author’ had already been given his parting words, and yet he would disrespect this courtesy he was shown. There was nothing more to be said.

“Don’t you want to know more about that curse?” he screamed as he lagged more and more behind

Oh? So he did know of that then did he? While he no longer felt that sickly sapping of his strength, gathering knowledge of real dangers was always worth pause. A wise dragon is an impervious one after all.

“Speak while I deign to listen.” said the dragon, halted in his tracks.

Finally having closed the distance, the loon lightly coughed.

“Man you walk fast. Alright, so, that curse that was cast upon you, it’s still there right?”

Was it? He certainly couldn’t feel it if it were the case. Even if it were a dormant thing, he had more than enough experience in detecting them. Well, moreso making them, but still.

“No, I don’t believe it is.”

The man snapped his finger and pointed towards Kinsoriel with a disgustingly smug smirk

“Oh, but it is my scaly friend. It has bound itself to your very being. Haven’t you noticed everything looks bigger than usual?”

Before he could emphasize just how far from friends they were, he took another look around him. Though he didn’t think too much of it in passing, everything was larger. Even this deathbound was a lot bigger than what he was accustomed to. He had been shrunk.

“Yeah, that was actually just part of what the curse was supposed to do. Right now, I’d say you're about half your size.”

If what he said was accurate, Kinsoriel was once again the size of a young adult. Perhaps he should be thankful he hadn’t been made the size of a hatchling, but this was an insult the likes of which he had never felt before. While this stoked his anger, he caught on to the man’s choice of words

“What the curse was supposed to do?” he repeated.

“Yeah, but uh… um… you stopped it before it could be finished by grabbing me!”

This ‘Author’, like every other deathbound before him, was not very good at lying. He was playing dumb, which against one apt at picking up deceptions, was actually dumb.

“The curse. what. was. it. supposed. to do?” spat out the annoyed dragon, making sure every word was crystal clear.

With a much less confident demeanor that bordered on meek, Benjamin softly muttered, “Turn you into a human…”

Kinsoriel blinked his eyes once, then twice, slowly processing the horrid words that had been spewed before him.

“WHHAAAAAAAT!!!???” He roared out, startling everything in the immediate area. Just who could envision cruelty of that scale? Death would be preferable to such torture, that was something he could understand. Mortals always sought to bring down their betters, it was a behavior he had come to expect. But that? To taint a dragon with inevitable death? Force them to become a being devoid of all their divine gifts? He had to consciously hold his impulses back, lest he break his promise in violent fashion.

The little author, clutching his little fleshy ears, was quick to recover in the face of a seething dragon.

“I can help you get rid of it though! Not only that, but also make sure you’ll be safe against it in the future!”

This certainly helped calm down the dragon, but he wasn’t satisfied in the slightest.

“Why should I believe you? You claim yourself to be this ‘Author’ who made everything, and yet I see nothing of such power from you, save for a spell you probably had no hand in making.”

He gestured his hands in a sarcastic, welcoming way.

“By all means, you show me what you can do oh god of gods! I’m waiting!”

The human sighed and put a hand to the back of his head.

“I can’t right now.” he admitted reluctantly. Of course.

“And why is that?” asked the dragon, intent on breaking down this fool’s misplaced pride.

“I don’t have my book, alright!”

Not really the answer he was anticipating, nor one he had a response for.

“What?” asked the dragon earnestly.

“The book of this world, the thing that allows me to make anything happen, I don’t have it. I think I dropped it when you grabbed me." He put a hand on his chin and muttered under his breath, "Somehow.”

It was almost scary how this man could believe in his own delusions to such a degree.

“We can go back to your tower, then I’ll show you what I can do. Is that fine enough for you?”

While he still didn’t believe a shred of what was said, it wasn’t as though he had much to gain by denying this request. He could use the trip to extract more information out of this idiot, he certainly seemed like the type to blather on if he would be allowed. And of course, blessed idiot or not, any deathbound that dared make a joke of him would have their fated deaths come even swifter. When he had an appropriate way to exact his revenge, having him in reach would make it even easier. The more he thought on it, the better it sounded.

“I see no reason to refuse. You are given the honor of assisting me for now, so relish it.”

With a clap of the hands, Benjamin said “Great! Let’s get this story back on track then, shall we?”

Kinsoriel lightly chortled with a little tuft of fire escaping his maw, finding the absurdity of the situation somewhat amusing. Thus, he resumed the trek back to his tower, now with this insane little tagalong he had with him. With any amount of luck, it wouldn’t last very long.

For one with the power to do just about anything in this world, one he made and dictated the rules of mind you, Benjamin certainly didn’t feel like it right about now. More the opposite really. Just what went so wrong that this situation even came about? Was it when he decided to have a front seat for the beginning of this adventure? This was never a problem before, he had always tried to be up close and hands-on when it came to important parts of his stories, in any and every setting he had made.

Maybe inserting himself so directly under the guise of Fayten was to blame. He couldn’t deny that speaking straight into Arfael’s ear was much more fun for him. But could his decision to do that be what is to blame? No, his status as this world’s Author should still prevent that, and nobody else saw him standing right next to them anyhow. Unless he willed it, nobody should have been able to touch him either.

All of this pondering on the how and why wouldn’t change what had already been done; he had not only been seen by his main character, but he had directly interacted with him. If that wasn’t bad enough, he also spilled the beans as to who he was in some stupid attempt to get him to do what he was told. To be fair to himself, it wasn’t as though he could lie either. Of all the multitudes of characters he could get questioned by, it just had to be the one he gave the inbuilt bs detector. If any of the others within the Infinite Library heard of this, he’d never live it down. Especially if it went all the way to Father himself.

Thankfully though, this was still the start of the story. Kinsoriel was still very much a haughty jerkass, still close minded. Thinking about what could have happened if he did believe him, it made him internally wince. All he had to do was get his book, then he could just revert everything to the way it was supposed to be.

Other than the unpleasant reptile at his side, it wasn’t so bad to be taking a walk in such a peaceful environment. The Gairem Split, once the territory of Ortremel, was a grand mountain range that was lush with life. It was supposed to be a place that came up later in the book as Kinsoriel’s new base, somewhere in the middle. Coming to terms with what he lost in more ways than one, and building back up from scratch. It'll be a great sequence once everything's square, a nice emotional moment. Wait a second, they were here already? It dawned on the Author that they were not where they were supposed to be. Swift Exit was supposed to go haywire, flinging Kinsoriel to another continent. On the one hand, that would be really bad for him at this very moment. Since he was still a full dragon, the other main characters that would be meeting him about now would either flee or fight him. It would also mean that the book would be stuck half a world away. Not good at all. But on the other hand, being here meant that they actually weren’t very far away, and they had actually gone where the dragon had wanted. Which meant that right about now Kinsoriel’s tower was-

Suddenly, both he and his main character looked to the sky. There was a black plume of smoke tinted with blues and purples, and the smell of burning books clung to the air. This, this wasn’t supposed to be seen! Warily, Benjamin looked over to the dragon, who had a thousand yard stare.

“Tower… My… Tower.” He said in a soft tone, more for himself than Benjamin

His entire body tensed up, almost trembling. His usual expression had contorted and shifted into one of pure anger. Through bared teeth, he said in the lowest of tones, “MY… TOWER.”

With that, he took to the sky like a bullet of wrath, leaving Benjamin to chase after him. The longer everything kept going like this, the harder it would be to fix. And if something were to happen to the book… Oh dear. He could only hope that he would find his book before things got even further out of hand.

Chapter 3: Up In Flames

Without any hesitation, Kinsoriel raced towards the source of the billowing smoke. He futilely hoped that this was somewhere else, that his sense of direction was somehow flawed.

“Please Wex,” he prayed to himself as he struggled to maintain composure, “don’t let that be my tower.”

Kinsoriel wasn’t nearly as pious as many other dragons were, but he still praised the god of knowledge and night. But perhaps he wasn’t devoted enough, or his prayer simply wasn’t important enough to respond to. Asking for divine intervention was no use to anyone anymore. The acts of the gods became little more than distant memory, something not even his parents had witnessed. Even so, he still wished in vain.

Beneath all these layers of denial, he knew the awful truth; that burning stone tower was his. As he landed before the structure, now a daunting height from his shrinking, his mind was alight as it tried to think of a way to save the library. Is it magical flame? No, the smell of mana was coming from his books and not the fire, as bitter of a thought that was. Could he stomp it out? No, he couldn’t think of a spell that would do that fast enough without crushing the entire place. Actually, could knocking over the tower stop it? Gah, that’s something a deathbound would come up with! Face to face with this disaster, it was degrading his critical thinking. Action needed to be taken now, he didn’t have time to think.

He took a deep breath and steadied himself. With deep concentration, he moved his front limbs in smooth wavelike patterns while focusing his mental image to that of water. He would drown these putrid flames in a lifesaving torrent.

“Storm Stream!” he yelled with a thunderous clap of his hands. Above the tower appeared a dark cloud with a boom that mimicked that of its summoner. Instead of regular rainfall, it poured all together in one continuous stream. The flames were doused out as the waters touched them, creating large puffs of steam. It took a solid minute before Kinsoriel would let the cloud disperse.

With a grim expression, Kinsoriel flew up to the only entrance atop the tower, preparing himself to assess the damages. As he descended the spiraling stairs, his eyes connected with the many books he housed in the walls. These had been singed completely before being put out. Such destruction was irreparable, even with his magical prowess. Sure he could repair the leather coverings and the paper pages, but the contents were beyond him and every other notable spell crafter he knew of. When he saw what had become of his main library, he was in shambles.

Every volume, every set, all brought to ruin. Amongst these blackened and water logged things were books that had only ever been handwritten; and now they were gone forever. The proud dragon didn’t weep, but a solitary tear found its way down his muzzle. He ran a hand gingerly along his once immaculate shelves, cringing as he felt their grizzled remains. He was choked up, not from any lingering smoke or steam, but rather the immense emotions he was feeling. All these precious tomes which he had gathered over many years, some totally irreplaceable, were undone in an instant.

Whoever had done this was worse than evil. There wouldn’t be a container small enough to contain the remains of the perpetrator once he found them. He would erase them as thoroughly as they had done to his treasured library.

He continued downward towards the base of his tower. Down here was where he kept some of his favorite foods for later consumption, usually while he found himself reading and relaxing. The water from his spell seemed to pool here, drenching the floor. Much to his surprised delight, this final bookcase housed some books that were somehow untouched by both fire and flood. It wasn’t much, but he would take whatever he could.

Wex may have smiled down on him after all, because amongst the books that had survived was his very first. ‘Spellcraft for Wyrmlings, by Yigstoll’, given to him by his father. Not at all engaging anymore, but he remembered reading it over and over, it being his introduction to the world of magic. The sentimental value more than justified its place on his shelves, and he was relieved to see it well and good.

Tracing a finger in a horizontal line, Kinsoriel declared “Pocket!”. A small hole of space opened along the traced line, which was then filled with the books he had managed to save. What good fortune he had was still miniscule when compared to the devastation around him, leading his mood to sour once more. There was nothing more to gain from what was once his dwelling, so he ascended the spiraling stairs one last time.

Once he had gotten back to the roof, his keen hearing picked up on the rustling of foliage at the edge of the clearing. Thinking it might be whoever had done this, he reared back and prepared to leap upon them. Out from the tree line stumbled not the arsonist who had chosen death, but the fool who had followed him.

“Oh,” he said disappointed as he relaxed himself, “it’s you.”

“Y’know, you could have brought me with you.” Benjamin complained as he pat the dust off of his cloak.

Kinsoriel scoffed angrily at the remark as he leapt down from his poor tower. “How presumptuous of you, tiresome little human. I may not harm you, but do not think for even a moment that I will be a servant of pests.”

He turned back to his tower, placing a clawed hand upon it with a heavy breath. “Especially when something of far greater importance was at stake.”

The air was left empty for a moment as they both said nothing.

“I know how you feel.” Benjamin said finally.

Kinsoriel tilted his head back, staring at him with a look so fierce it could cause stone to shudder.

“How dare you make light of this tragedy by saying such a thing. You know NOTHING of what I feel. Had I not rushed into making a promise like I was hatched yesterday, you would be splattered across the ground. Or can your feeble mind not understand that?”

Rather than shrink away, Benjamin continued to stand. “Don’t be so dramatic, I’m not trying to insult you.” He pointed a thumb to himself. “I am the Author, I DO get it.”

Kinsoriel wanted to argue against this with all of his being, but even amongst such powerful emotions, the deathbound’s reasoning was at least partially correct. Insane or not, he may well indeed be a writer of some sort. If there would be any who could fathom this tremendous loss, it would be someone who shared an appreciation for the art. Some writings from mortal writers had found their place upon his shelves as well, so it wasn’t impossible to say they could have it in the first place. That didn’t mean he would apologize however; he just dropped it.

Not saying anything else, Benjamin seemed to be looking around the area, probably for his own book. Even while he was still wallowing, Kinsoriel couldn’t help but chuckle as he heard the man grow frenzied while looking for something that likely didn’t even exist. Seeing another suffer helped him forget his own plight, if only for the moment.

“Where is it!? It has to be here, it has to be!”

A while of searching later, he came back and sat next to the dragon, legs crossed and empty handed. He had to take deep breaths to regain his composure, looking up to Kinsoriel when he had finished.

“This is beyond bad, you know. Everything could come apart at any moment with that book in the wild.”

The well studied dragon had little if any sympathy for him. He just lost thousands more than the human after all.

“Perhaps now we can say you might understand my losses.” He said down to the author rudely.

Benjamin glared back at the dragon. “Don’t you get it? Your entire world is at stake! If anyone messes with that book improperly, everything could go ‘poof’!”

He made an exaggerated motion with his hands for emphasis before getting up and off the ground. Kinsoriel looked on with lidded eyes, wondering if he should even bother with the mad man’s doom saying.

“Well I don’t see the end of anything in the near future, except those deathbound arsonists of course.”

Saying those words aloud reminded the dragon of what he should be doing instead of moping around. He unconsciously dug up the ground beneath his claws as his rage built.

“Speaking of, I have quarry to find. Follow.”

Benjamin did as he was told, hanging alongside the dragon as he began tracking the presence of mortal blood. Suddenly, the human snapped his fingers, earning an annoyed look from the dragon.

“What now? Can’t you see I’m busy?” Kinsoriel asked before flicking his forked tongue back out, tasting the air.

“The arsonist has my book!” said the Author enthusiastically.

Kinsoriel corrected him without looking back. “Arsonists, not arsonist..”

“No,” With great gall, the fool decided to share his theory, “it was one. And it wasn’t the group you fought that did this, it’s someone else.”

Kinsoriel laughed dismissively between flicks. “Oh, and who would that be then? Do tell.”

“Harax.” he replied.

The black dragon paused and had his head perk up a bit. Thinking he misspoke or simply meant something else, he needed confirmation.

“Harax?” he asked, “Describe him for me.”

With a chin rub, Benjamin began rattling off descriptors. “Bigger than you are at regular size, orange scales, very territorial, lives in a stone cave ov-”

“Enough!” Kinsoriel cut him off with a stomp. There was no question about it. He was describing the same brutish meathead he thought he was. To say they were on bad terms would be putting it lightly, but he was a dragon as well. Dragons settled things in person if there was a feud, subterfuge was craven and cowardly. Another ugly invention of mortal kind. Could this really be the case?

“I refuse to believe you. Not only is Harax a dragon, but he is an adherent of Valorian. He would not do this.”

Benjamin held his hands on his hips before shrugging. “Alright, don’t believe me. That’s fine.”

He then started to walk off, leaving Kinsoriel amiss at the sheer impudence

“Where do you think you’re going? Stop this instant!”

He did not. With a single bound, Kinsoriel lept in front of him, pointing at him with a claw. “I said STOP! You will not act out of turn, do you hear me?”

“Of course I do, I just don’t have time to waste. I’m getting that book, and it doesn’t matter if you come with me or not. So go ahead and go after your own leads, I’ll be doing the same.”

The black dragon could swear in every language he knew, and it still wouldn’t be enough to express how much he despised being treated this way by a deathbound. He swallowed his indignation for now though, realizing Harax may in fact be the answer he needed to another problem.

“Nevermind that. We will go to Harax then, but you will follow me. You are not the master.”

With a thumbs up, the Author agreed. Kinsoriel grumbled and growled, but said nothing further. He would much rather be on the trail of those who burnt his tower, but what better way to rid himself of this nuisance than paying a visit to someone who hated deathbounds more than him?

Chapter 4: Change of Plans

It probably wasn’t a good idea to just drop solutions like these so casually, but Benjamin had already given himself a break over it. He would gladly make untangling himself from all this and getting everything back to normal that much harder, just so long as the alternative was avoided. Clean up would always be preferable to rebuilding from the ground up after all.

Not like he had to explain the how or why either, nor did he even really need to accompany Kinsoriel. He could probably even do this all on his own a bit faster, but having him close by meant he could minimize any impacts he would need to correct later.

What actually did occupy his mind as they tread towards the giant cave was a more important question; how had Harax found his book? Just as he was supposed to be completely undetectable, it shouldn’t have been possible for anyone else in this world to see it. Whatever had allowed for this to happen in the first place could probably be blamed for that as well, though he was still completely in the dark as to what that actually is.

“Little author, what is it you write of?” Kinsoriel asked, still looking forward.

Benjamin looked up at the dragon suspiciously. “What was that? I didn’t quite catch it.”

There was a low rumble that had emanated from the dragon’s throat at this, but he reiterated nonetheless. “What is the subject of your writings?”

So he did say that. It was unexpected to have such a mundane question asked of him, given who had asked it. He would have expected angry comments or deriding put downs, and that was if he decided he would talk at all. This was eerily pleasant of him. He decided that he may as well answer him.

“Well, I like making stories about flawed characters overcoming their flaws. Happy endings and all that.”

It was silent between the two for a while, before Kinsoriel audibly grit his teeth. “Is that really all you have to say?” the dragon complained.

Of course it was. No matter how lax he felt disclosing events for this world, he’d be out of his mind to say anything regarding any others. He could still come out of this with some amount of dignity if any of his peers caught on. If he told this fantasy character about high end technology and out of universe concepts, he could kiss that goodbye. He didn’t lie though, he really did enjoy stories that had happy ends.

“I’ll tell you more about them later, they don’t seem like your type.”

Kinsoriel stopped to give Benjamin one of his many looks of frustration. He then gave it up, simply saying, “Very well.”

That was easier than he expected it would be. Something still seemed a bit off about it though. “Why do you ask anyway?”

He half expected his question to fall on deaf ears, but this was not the case as the dragon spoke up.

“Once we conclude our business, I will have your book for myself. I simply wanted to know how I should categorize it.” Benjamin looked on with lowered eyebrows and a slight scowl as the arrogant lizard continued. “It is an honor you don’t deserve of course, but I shall make an exception.”

Okay then, that was still on brand for him. It was unlikely that the dragon had just started to believe in his authordom, so maybe it was just an urge to be petty.

“That’s not happening.” he said defyingly.

Benjamin caught a short lived and malicious grin from the dragon before going back to a neutral look. “It’s comical that you think you have a choice.”

He felt like saying something, but didn’t. Let him have his moments for now, they wouldn’t last. When everything is back to the way it should be, he’ll get a nice dose of character development. Humility is in your future dragon, you can count on it.

He couldn’t wait. Kinsoriel could barely hide his glee at the thought of getting rid of this thorn in his side. It didn’t matter if that book he kept whining about existed or not, the dragon would shelve just about anything as long as it reminded him of his triumph. He wasn’t picky when it came to his trophies after all, it’s the thought that counts.

Based on where they were currently, he estimated that it would take until nightfall before they reached Harax. They could be there in minutes if he felt like carrying this living burden, but he would rather not. He could still come out of this with some amount of dignity if he handled the situation correctly. If another dragon witnessed him serving a deathbound, let alone letting Harax see such a sight, he might never hear the end of it. If it went really bad, he may even be labeled a Canon Breaker. At least having this extra sliver of time would allow him to think of how he would ask for assistance.

They both mostly kept to themselves save for Kinsoriel’s question, not really conversing in any significant way. Then there was a loud rumbling from the black dragon’s stomach. Famished. It occurred to him that he hadn’t been able to save any of his food from the tower, and the last time he had eaten was before that vile group of arsonists had come around. As much as he would like to get this over with as soon as possible, he couldn’t ignore his hunger.

“Little author,” he called over as he stopped, “you will wait here while I go hunt.”

The man shrugged and sat on a log nearby. With some galloping movements, the dragon sped off in search of some quick pickings. He followed the trail of what seemed to be a pack of deer, scents, hoof prints, and disturbed foliage. As he neared, he slowed down immensely and began to prepare.

In a tone softer than average, he cast a variety of spells upon himself. Silent Step, which covered his feet and hands in sound blocking mana. Transparent Body, which made the dragon almost see through. And Scent Scrub, keeping his scents close to him and not on the wind. This was the hunting method of a smart dragon, an efficient dragon.

This string of spells ended up making him a bit fatigued, a surprise to him. He wondered how he could possibly begin feeling tired after casting only three minor spells, before remembering his predicament. If he had a smaller body, he would also have a smaller reserve of mana. If there weren’t so much else thrown at him today, he’d bite his own tail for forgetting such a big thing.

Having finished his preparations though, he stalked closer towards his prey. Just as he had guessed, it was a pack of deer. They were busy grazing in the middle of the clearing, with not a single care in the world. Ripe for the taking. He inched closer, salivating more and more with every step. When he finally got within striking distance, another smell came to him. It smelled like a-

BOOOOOOOOOOM

-dragon. While the dust gradually cleared, all that could be seen was the silhouette of said dragon and the two mangled deer in its clutches. Kinsoriel didn’t need to see anything though; the full bodied laughter that came out of the cloud revealed who it was in an instant.

“Harax.” Kinsoriel said while stepping forward, dismissing his spells at the same time.

“Hmm? Who’s there?”

The shape of Harax inhaled for a moment, blowing away the remaining dust. When it had all finally gone away, the gigantic form of the orange dragon was revealed. Worshippers of Valorian were usually on the larger end of dragons, and Harax was no different. Even at his original height, Harax outsized him by a good few feet. As he was now, it was like looking up at his parents. He had a much thicker frame as well, in contrast to Kinsoriel’s more slender figure.

“Kinsoriel? Is that you?” Harax said incredulously while looking down on the shrunken dragon.

“Yes, it is I. I am in need of your assistance.”

Instead of keeping a serious look about him, Harax went back to laughing. Oh wait, he was actually laughing harder than he was before. If he didn’t have a use for the lummox, Kinsoriel wouldn’t bother. Seeing as he did, he held his tongue for the moment.

“Oh sorry about that, you wee little thing. How’d you get so small?”

Kinsoriel’s very finite amount of patience for mockery was not exclusive to deathbound, so he found it hard to keep his face from taking an angry look. “That is not important right now, I have found myself in an awful situation and need your assistance.”

His reiteration didn’t seem to get the smirking orange dragon to listen any more than he had before. “Sorry ‘soriel, but I’m not moving a claw till you tell me what’s going on with ya.”

Of course he would want to push this of all things. Kinsoriel weighed his options; let his irritating neighbor in on this temporary weakness, or continue in the company of a lunatic for even longer. Deciding to go with the former, he would disclose some of what had occurred.

“All you need to know is that a pack of deathbound did this to me. I need you to kill one.”

The orange dragon looked on apathetically. Was this not serious to him?

“While I would take great pleasure in doing so, it sounds like you lost.”

What? What would that have to do with anything? “And?” he asked as he felt himself tensing up slightly.

“Woe to the conquered. They had every right to do whatever they like with you. Valorian’s word ‘soriel.”

He couldn’t believe what was being implied here, not one bit of it. “They burned my horde Harax! My entire tower! Are you really going to say that they were just in doing that?!”

Harax showed not even a speck of sympathy for his fellow dragon as he flashed an evil smile. “Yes I am, just as I might say that you shouldn’t lounge about in my land any longer, weakling.”

Confusion drowned out the insult in Kinsoriel’s mind. This land didn’t belong to the brute, that threshold was still an hour out. He hadn't thought much about it till now, but why was Harax here? Realization struck the black dragon like that arrow from today; out of nowhere, and completely throwing him off balance.

“You…” is all he could say.

The much larger dragon laughed to himself before ripping a leg off of one of the deer with ease.

“I’m very understanding of course, so I’ll let you off easy. Here.”

He unceremoniously dropped the shank of meat in front of Kinsoriel with plop.

“A gift for you as you look for a new home, I wish you much luck!”

Before the black dragon could do anything, Harax had flown off, laughing even harder as he left. Left broiling in rage with no outlet, Kinsoriel looked down at the leg that he had been given. Even as his stomach growled at the sight, he instead turned it to a pile of ash with his breath. That soft shelled bastard’s act of generosity was in fact just another insult, one he would not swallow. This was his territory, those were his deer.

Even if his involvement wasn’t completely clear, that little author was right; Harax was behind this. So much swirled around in his head as he thought of everything. A dragon, if he could even call him that, had engaged in an underhanded land grab. To pour salt on the wound, this ‘dragon’ was supposedly a worshiper of the god of honor! He shouldn’t even have his strength or his orange coloration if he acted like a treacherous snake!

Him being so wrong where that deathbound was right was irritating yes, but it was vital for him to see the bigger picture. There was no reasonable way Kinsoriel could figure out Harax had betrayed the dragon way so suddenly, and he had known Harax for decades at least. How then could this man have known? If he was in on it, why would he fess up so easily?

Nothing made logical sense, nothing in this entire day did. The foolish side of his mind considered, for a fleeting moment, if what he had claimed might be even slightly true. This foolish side of him was a consequence of being so open to new knowledge, and needed to be leashed accordingly. At best, that blessing the gods had given him also included some form of precognition. At worst, even a blind hog finds an acorn every now and then. That’s all that deathbound could ever be.

With both parts of him in agreement now, he decided to find another pack of what should be his deer. He emerged with a clean catch half an hour later, now starting to feel truly taxed from having to use so many spells in a short period. The hunt had helped to get him to simmer down from his rage, but he still had arrangements to make. As he was right now, he’d have no chance of taking on that filthy wyrm of a neighbor. If he wanted his revenge, he needed to focus on regaining his true size first and foremost. It seemed he would still need this loon, until a better alternative came up at least.

“I have returned.” Kinsoriel said as he got back to where he left the man. He had moved from his spot, earning a bit of annoyance from the dragon at the minor disobedience. Looking a bit closer however, he looked almost terrified, with a twitchy and hunched over stance. The black dragon said nothing of the weird behavior and instead got down to making a fire to roast his meat.

“If you beg hard enough, I may give you a morsel of food.” Kinsoriel offered smugly.

“I didn’t need to eat you know.” he said, looking on edge, “Now? Now I have to. Or I’ll die. I can die now. And if I die? I can’t come back.”

His oddness only seemed to increase. It’s like he only seemed to understand he was a deathbound now. Did something happen while the dragon was away?

Chapter 5: Stromwell

Earlier…

“Little Author,” Kinsoriel said as he came to a stop, “you will wait here while I go hunt.”

Seeing no reason to argue, Benjamin simply shrugged and sat on a nearby log. He wouldn’t take long, and as far as Benjamin could remember, there wasn’t anything he could mess up nearby. Not like he’d listen if he objected anyway.

After the dragon had disappeared into the forest, Benjamin found himself just lounging around. A little amount of time to think about things without having to worry about anything else; what a treat. Not like he hadn’t been doing that already as he walked, but this sudden alone time gave him an idea.

He straightened out and peered at a tree. ‘Then, a lightning bolt struck the tree, setting it ablaze.’ he imagined as hard as he could. He grimaced as the tree remained unstruck, green and billowing still. He tried again and again to no avail. The possibility of success wasn’t very likely, but it was still disappointing.

Normally, he only needed to think of what happened and it would be so. It didn’t matter how nonsensical or contrived, though any Author worth his salt would still avoid that if possible. There wasn’t any question of it now; he needed that book to do anything.

He laid back onto the log, trying to relax. A hard task, given he was used to the fine chairs he would often will into existence. He wouldn’t have to be without such comforts for much longer, they were only an hour away from Harax’s lair. A slight rustling caught his attention. Even though he was on the lighter end of the scale now, Benjamin doubted that was Kinsoriel. The lack of any tremors only further cemented this thought. Shifting over to his side, Benjamin saw what might be the worst possible thing he could imagine in his current predicament.

“Resting on your laurels eh?” came a familiar, demeaning voice.

“Stromwell.” Benjamin drug out with deep seated resentment.

If there was ever a benefit to engrossing himself in the worlds he made, seeing less of his older brother was certainly in the running. Always wearing that same outfit of his; the dark gray suit and vest, complimented by a white shirt and pinstripe tie. That wood grain paneled pen Father had given him was still in his upper breast pocket. It likely never left it either. Fine silk gloves, black leather derby shoes, and a trimmed beard rounded out the look; that is, if you wanted to scream how ‘mature’ you were to everyone around you. Stromwell could have been born in that outfit and just never learned to take it off; such a thing would hardly be surprising. What was he doing here though? He wasn’t the type to just drop in on his fellow Authors.

“Don’t you have a character arc somewhere to crush for shock value?” Benjamin spat.

Stromwell scoffed at the insinuation, continuing to close the distance. With a waggle of his finger, a chair that could be at home next to a fireplace appeared. Benjamin briefly coveted the lovely looking seat, before his attention was once again drawn to its owner.

“Yes yes, I’m sure you have plenty to say, but I’m not here because I want to be.” Stromwell droned. He reached a hand into his suit, rummaging around in it. When it came back out, it was holding something Benjamin hadn’t expected; his book. “I believe you were looking for this?”

He lightly shook the black covered volume around. Benjamin’s eyes went wide as he looked at it. No wonder he could bring a chair out of nowhere in his world! It all made sense now, this was just a prank of some sort. It wasn’t very funny though.

“Oh wow, thanks Stromwell.” Benjamin said with faux gratitude, reaching out a hand to grab the book. “I don’t know what to say.” Before he could grasp it once again, it was pulled away. Hands left empty, he looked back to Stromwell. He had a rakish brow, and a grin that broke his typically subtle demeanor.

“No need to thank me Ben, I’m not doing you a favor.” He leaned back into the chair and folded his hands on top of the book. “More the opposite really.” Benjamin, now sitting up completely, looked at his older brother intensely.

“Okay then, I’ll bite.” Benjamin stated as he folded his arms, “What do you mean by that?”

Stromwell scooched a bit forward and looked Benjamin straight in the eyes.

“Nobody else has ever fumbled as bad as you have right now, Ben. Nobody.” A single hand gripped the edge of the seat as he went on. “I don’t know how you managed to do it, that’s where we are here. But… you are in luck. I just so happened to be there in time. Nobody else knows of your failure.” He raised a finger with his final word. “Yet.”

Benjamin began to see what his game was now. Write the makings of a blackmail plot once, and anyone would be able to see it as well. But besides that, did he say that he didn’t know what happened either?

“You mean you don’t know how this happened either?” He asked genuinely, with a twinge of concern around his words.

Stromwell huffed. “Keep up would you. Now, as I was saying, nobody else knows. We could keep it that way, if you wouldn’t mind doing something for me.” Benjamin wordlessly waited, hoping whatever it was that would be demanded of him would be reasonable. “You see, I have been needing an assistant for some time now, and nobody seems up to it lately. Be mine for, let’s say, 100 years, and we can come to an agreement.”

A distraught look twisted itself onto Benjamin’s face. They didn’t see eye to eye much of the time, but did Stromwell really loathe him so? For Benjamin to become an assistant to another Author, that would be like hanging a sign off his neck that read ‘Inept’ in bold red letters. Assistantship was only meant to give newcomers experience before they went on to the real deal. Shaming him and glorifying Stromwell as a superior; for 100 years. If tossing aside his image for this stuffy prick’s benefit was the only alternative, he’d rather be a failure for the next millennium; even if it reached Father.

“Run off and tell them then, I don’t care.” Benjamin said as he stood. “Just give me back my book.”

“Really? You won’t oblige such a simple request? And just why is that?” Stromwell sneered and crossed his legs. Benjamin could feel his temples throb more and more as his brother spoke.

“Why? Why should I even need to explain myself to you?! You have no right to be interfering in MY world.” Vitriol bubbled up, catching in his throat before he said anything else. Stromwell stopped smiling in any fashion, taking a very so-so expression.

“I’d watch my tone if I were you, little brother.” Stromwell stood up, meeting Benjamin’s gaze directly. “With a proper answer now. Why deny my request?”

“Because I’d never want to be the assistant of a hack like you!” Benjamin felt his answer escape his lips before he could even think. They were both taken aback. Stromwell went from shock and confusion to anger, and finally back to his neutral look with a sigh.

“Is that so?” He stared over to the chair. It disappeared without any movement or flourish on his part. He looked back to Benjamin. “Don’t worry about making a deal anymore, I have a far better idea now.”

Benjamin, who had now recovered from his outburst, felt uneasy at his words. ”W-what do you mean?” He asked as Stromwell opened up the book to the first page. With his free hand, he took the wood grain pen out of his breast pocket. Despite his neutral façade, there was a malicious gleam in his eyes.

In what felt like slow motion, Benjamin tried to take the book back from the vindictive man. In reality, it probably was slow motion. He was powerless to stop him as ink flowed from the pen and across the title page. Once. Twice. Five times. Ten. Until Benjamin’s name was completely crossed out.

“Here is what’s going to happen. I’ll be keeping this all our little secret, and you…” He flipped to the back of the book, ripping out an uneven piece of its endless pages. “You are going to finish this story without being the Author. No protections, no special rules, and you can only keep the knowledge you write here.” As he said this, he stuffed the torn paper into Benjamin's near totally frozen hands, along with a pen he brought into existence just then.

“If you can manage this, the book will come to you. But if I see you pop up at the Infinite Library ‘early’... I’ll take over this setting for you. After all, you’d never be able to come back to a world you died in.” He moved in a little bit closer, lightly smacking Benjamin’s cheeks twice. “Oh what am I saying, you’ll be just peachy! After all, you aren’t a hack like your dear old brother, right?!” He frowned as he said that last word, turning around and walking off.

Raising his head over his shoulder, Stromwell said one last thing. “Oh, and I’d hurry with writing down what you want to keep. You’ll only have one minute to do so.” He looked to the sky, snapped his fingers, and disappeared without a trace. Time started flowing normally again after he had done so, Benjamin nearly falling over from his preserved momentum. When he righted himself, a floating digital clock appeared before him.

Fifty six. Fifty five. He didn’t have any time to waste. Clutching at the pen with a death grip, he jotted down all that he could. Every vital name, every big plot point he could dredge up, absolutely everything. Nineteen. Eighteen. He struggled to think of what else he might need to know about, he came to a grim realization. He would now be a part of this world, but he didn’t have anything there to help him survive it. Thirteen. Twelve. He quickly wrote down whatever he could to make sure he didn’t die immediately. One. Zero.

As soon as the clock had finished its countdown, it disappeared, taking with it Benjamin’s unsecured thoughts. He could feel his meta-knowledge get wrenched out of his head, and it was excruciating. The pain had come and gone near instantly, but it brought with it other feelings. An emptiness in his stomach, a dryness in his throat. The chill of the wind made him shiver. He… he was no longer an Author, he was just Benjamin. And he felt completely vulnerable.

Wanting to get away from this now too obvious wind, he moved to a more sheltered area. He looked over the page he was given, seeing what his mad scribbles had left him.

‘Kinsoriel, Draconic Canon, Nela’s group, Carthex the Butcher, Betrayals, Continents, Cities, Mythology, Dangerous Plants and Monsters, Spel-’

He stared blankly at the unfinished word, the blood draining from his face. He tried to remember anything at all about the rules of spellcraft and magic, drawing a blank. It was completely gone. Everything else that he had successfully written was still there in his mind, but nothing from the partially written word. The broad terms he had given himself worked, which meant he could have just used generic terms and saved it all. Freaking out over the timer had left him at a hefty disadvantage, which was exactly what his brother wanted.

He smacked himself in the face. Not used to feeling real pain in created worlds, he unwittingly hit himself too hard. This wasn’t something he could just ignore, he had to truly live in this world now. Normality would be the death of anyone in a land of sword and sorcery, and this was high fantasy!

The world swirled around him as it all became too much. If he died, this world would be doomed to Stromwell’s wrath. A perfectly calm Stromwell would axe off important places and people in his awful interpretation of realism. But with a bruised ego, he could very well make this place a grimdark nightmare.

That could happen any moment! He could trip and hit his head and that would be it. Did he even know how to swim? What if he choked? It occurred to him that he’d need to eat now! The minutes ticked by as Benjamin continued to spiral deeper into his fears.

“I have returned.” Kinsoriel said, coming back into view. This barely registered to Benjamin, he was too preoccupied with babbling to himself. The dragon layed down and got to making a campfire with a small gout of his breath. As he held the meat between his claws, the deer roasting over the tongues of flame, he looked over to Benjamin.

“If you beg hard enough, I may give you a morsel of food.” he said with a self gratifying expression. Bringing up the concept of food in the first place brought Benjamin’s mind back to what he had said, though not by much.

“I didn’t need to eat you know. Now? Now I have to. Or I’ll die. I can die now. And if I die? I can’t come back.” Kinsoriel said nothing in response to his words, just continuing to roast the deer. Worry overwhelming him, Benjamin held his face in his hands, rubbing at his head incessantly. Time passed, and he was still having as hard a time coming to terms with what had happened. How could his brother even think to do such a thing to him? Surely they could have just talked things out right? But then again he w-

His circular line of thought was put to an end as he found a hot hunk of meat laid on his lap. It hadn’t burned him though, because it was also upon a flat rock. His mouth watered at the sight, a feeling he wasn’t used to. Looking up, his eyes met the cook, who had already begun ravenously digging into his meal. Before thinking of touching the meat, he called over simply, “Thank you.”

Kinsoriel briefly stopped his glutinous shredding, only to go back to it a moment later. Whether he had heard and given pause, or was just taking a breath, Benjamin did not know. He soon joined in, eating the meat with gusto. He didn’t have any utensils, and he had to rip bits off with only his hands and teeth. A messy process, but also surprisingly effective. The venison was gamey but rich in flavor; hard to eat but worth every bite. Grease stains found their way all over his cloak, but he didn’t care at the moment. He felt much better.

They were almost certainly screwed, but it was that ‘almost’ that made the difference. Even with all the ways he could fail at every corner, he knew he would have to conquer them if this world was to survive. And to that end, he refused to throw in the towel.

Chapter 6: A Short Detour

Satisfied with their meals, Kinsoriel and Benjamin went to sleep shortly after. Dreams were part of Wex’s domain, being a way to filter the knowledge of the under mind. His devotees held them in high regard, even those with less zeal like Kinsoriel. Questions that plagued him during the day were often solved after a dream filled night. Why didn’t this spell work as well as it should? What form should his home take? Those sorts of things. Perhaps he would be given an answer to any of his many new problems. Even if it were to come in the form of a nightmare, he would take it.

He dreamt of nothing. The void between when he closed his eyes and opened them ate up his night. He awoke no wiser than he was when he went to sleep. Well, it was never a reliable way of getting answers regardless. He sat up a bit and stared at Benjamin’s still body. He snickered. He didn’t need his dreams to fix his problems. He already had all he needed in this loon.

He cleared his throat loudly. “Ahem.” The human didn’t stir. Kinsoriel scowled, repeating himself louder. “AHEM.” Benjamin twitched, but nothing more. Inhaling deeply, he shouted. “WAKE UP!” That was more than enough. Benjamin leapt up in shock with a yelp and a panic stricken look.

“Shake off your torpor, I need you aware and coherent.” Kinsoriel pulled himself up into a sitting position, waiting for the deathbound. Despite a sluggish start, Benjamin sat up promptly.

“A-alright then,” Benjamin stammered, “how c-can I help you?”

“I want to know more about this curse. You will tell me.” He watched the man’s face closely, making sure he was telling the truth. Benjamin looked like he was recalling what was asked of him, but he was left aghast. Kinsoriel peered closer, trying to detect what was amiss.

“I… It’s… gone.” Benjamin said in a way implying a revelation. Everything was still much bigger than they should be, so that was clearly false.

“No it isn’t,” Kinsoriel said with an annoyed growl, “don’t toy with me.” Benjamin… almost seemed to cower?

“That’s not what I mean, I… I don’t know how it works anymore.” He looked up at the dragon with a deep look of distress. “It was taken from me.” Kinsoriel could feel his left eye twitching as he heard this. “But! But just wait one second!” Benjamin said, his hands up defensively, “I still know who will!”

His tone, posture, smell, and facial expressions all made him out to be very nervous. Unfortunately, they didn’t show him to be lying. That meant that this was the truth, as far as he could tell at least. Kinsoriel was frustrated to be given yet another delay. He had wrongs that needed to be righted, and the sooner the better.

“Ugh, why couldn’t you just be like every other deathbound. How could you forget something like that overnight!?” He tried to ease his bitterness by rubbing over the base of his horns. It didn’t help.

Benjamin meekly corrected him. “I didn’t forget, it was taken.” He looked over at the firepit. “He took it.” Though he had immense hatred for the majority of mortals, Kinsoriel couldn’t help but feel sorry for the mad man. If he was an instrument of the gods, they ought to have hammered out the kinks before they used him. He might have put him out of his misery if the circumstances were different.

“I don’t need any of your excuses!” He roared, causing Benjamin to flinch. “Just bring me to the one who can actually help me!”

“O-of course!” Benjamin stood up, bowing himself a little. “Follow me!”

Interesting. Just yesterday, he barely showed any fear towards the dragon. What he saw now was closer to what he was used to when interacting with deathbounds. No, there was actually a large difference here. Deathbounds only ever act like this when they realize just how weak they are, when their lives are threatened. The little author wasn’t in immediate danger from the dragon, he had managed to get him to promise as much. Could he have figured out the loophole in his wording? It wasn’t impossible, but not likely.

Moreover, he wasn’t trying to bargain for his life or begging for mercy. Instead of that, he was displaying an eagerness to please. He still had no idea what happened yesterday to make such a large change, but Kinsoriel wasn’t complaining. A more servile deathbound would get on his nerves far less often after all.

Kinsoriel silently agreed, giving the go ahead with a gesture. They traveled all of ten steps before his guide came to an abrupt stop. “What now?!” The dragon whined.

“Umm… I don’t know where we are right now.” Benjamin admitted, putting a hand to his face. Before Kinsoriel could devolve further into his aggravation, the little author put a finger up. “I’ve got it!” He turned back to the dragon. “Where’s the closest human city?”

Kinsoriel couldn’t help but groan as he recalled. That particular den of pests was more than a few days out, but that wasn’t the problem. The city, Ferroes as it was called, was a hotbed of those hero types that loved marching off to fight him. While he wouldn’t mind culling some more of those vile creatures, especially the ones he most recently encountered, it wasn’t a wise idea.

There were few areas where mortals had an advantage over dragons, but one of them should never be forgotten; numbers. Even the greatest of all dragons would fall if put against a sufficient number of deathbounds, a fact he knew all too well. Combined with his cursed condition, it would be a very real risk. Was the little author trying to lead him into a trap?

“And why would we bother going there?”

Kinsoriel watched closely as Benjamin answered. “If I could get a map, I could bring you to a person who can help.” Once again, he seemed to be telling the truth. Considering who it was coming from though, it could just as easily be what he thinks is the truth. His worries weren't curbed, but he couldn’t afford not to go along with it either. A precarious position to find himself in.

With an exasperated sigh, he relented. “If it can’t be helped, I suppose we can take a short detour. You can go in by yourself though, I won’t be anywhere near there like this.”

Benjamin gave a curious look. “You’re not coming?”

Kinsoriel rolled his eyes. “I said nothing of the sort. I’ll be far enough away so they don’t notice me. Now…” Kinsoriel opened his hand and put it in front of the little author. “Let’s get this over with.”

Benjamin stared at his hand with a stupid expression. “What?” He asked, now looking back up at the dragon.

“Hurry up already!” The dragon exclaimed as he pointed to his hand, “I don’t have time to dawdle by walking.”

“Oh! Sure, alright.” Benjamin slowly clambered into his palm, his claws grasping the squishy man securely.

The thought of simply crushing him crossed his mind, but he obviously didn’t try it again. That spell, or rule, or whatever it is, it was probably still there. He still needed him for the moment, and he was still bound by his word, so this wasn’t a lost opportunity either.

With a flex of his wings, he started flapping furiously. He left the ground moments later, flying off towards his destination. The feeling of pushing through the wind always managed to cheer him up, even now.

His fear of being seen with this deathbound paled when compared to the thought of walking with him for nearly a full week. If anybody wanted to call him a Canon Breaker, he’d refer them to the wretch in his land first. As far as he was concerned, any action he took to punish the real blasphemer was more than justified. That’s how he would say it should it come up; he still hoped that it wouldn’t in the first place.

Trees whistled by as he flew, the smell of pine making for an extra pleasant experience. He had to make sure to not fly too close the ground though, lest his temporary servant pop out of his hands.

In little under an hour, they arrived where he would wait. He landed with a soft thud, Benjamin less so. The little author just layed on the ground for a moment, trembling.

“Is-s-s-s it-t-t-t-t over?” He chattered

Why was he… Oh. Right. A deathbound’s lack of scales made them vulnerable to anything and everything. Even wind could make them wilt.

“Not yet,” Kinsoriel said while lifting him back onto his feet, “Ferroes lies about two miles ahead over there. Go.” He pointed a claw towards the city.

Though dazed, the little author snapped out of it enough to nod and get moving. “I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

No questions, no talking back. Now this was an attitude he could get used to. If he continued like this, the dragon could see himself taking the man as a pet when all of this was said and done. Right now though, he had to play the waiting game, and he was prepared. “Pocket.” He said as he opened up his little storage space with a finger. He reached in and pulled out one of his few surviving books, content to pass the time reading.

Chapter 7: Unfortunate Shopping Trip

Much could be said of the black dragon. Capable, persistent, proactive in achieving his goals; traits that serve a lead very well. For Benjamin however, these aspects were coming back to bite him in the ass. Those facets of personality were intended for a character that would be completely stripped of power, not this.

Kinsoriel was always written as being wary for his own safety, which would then encompass those he found himself with. He wasn’t there yet and he wouldn’t be for a while. This wouldn’t be a problem if he was made to be a human. But no, we couldn’t have that. Even if Benjamin had value to the dragon, his sheer resilience would taint his view of dangers. Smacking into a tree would be a mild headache to him, while it would spell certain doom for Benjamin.

Three near misses and a terrible chill from that flight had him shivering as he went. He’d only just gotten this life, and he had already come so close to death. Even with his assurances, being around the dragon would be hazardous to his health. He needed more between him and an early grave, sooner than later.

After an hour of trudging along, the ex-Author finally saw it. Sprawling acres of farmland dotted with quaint little cottages here and there. The walls, tall as two houses stacked on one another and about half as thick. The beautiful temple, made of polished stone and accented with precious metals. The humongous forge, billowing with the clouds of production. And the guildhall, fortified so heavily it looked more like a gigantic castle. This was Ferroes, one of the larger cities on this continent.

Seeing all these grand structures as someone living in this world was so… boring. Maybe it shouldn’t have come across as such a let down, but he couldn’t help it. Cities were one of the few things he continued to know all about. It was hard to get excited for something he knew every little detail about, even from his more grounded perspective.

He wasn’t here to be awed by his own creation though. No, he was here for a map. A map, and some supplies. The only thing he had was his cloak, which now had a grease stain thanks to yesterday's meal. That alone wouldn’t cut it, and with how volatile his protagonist is, it could be sometime before he can come to another town. Better make the best of it while he has the chance.

He walked towards the south gate, stationed by a couple of guards. One seemed to be giving directions to a group of adventurers, facing him as he closed the distance.

“-and that’ll be where you can find it. Yeah, no problem, just be careful.” The unoccupied guard raised an open palm forcefully as Ben approached. “Halt! Please wait until we can assist you.” With a slightly peeved look, Benjamin nodded, crossing his arms. After the colorful group passed him, the guard that gave them directions gestured that he should come closer.

“What business do you have in Ferroes, sir?” The guard’s stance was rigid and unmoving as he waited for a response.

“I’m here to get supplies for my journey.”

With a quick glance over at his partner, the guard loosened up a bit and moved aside. “Alright. Enjoy your time in Ferroes, and have a safe trek when you are done.”

Thanking him, Benjamin then went through the gateway. The inside of the city was clean and filled with decorations of many kinds. Little engravings in some of the walls, well trimmed trees, tasteful stuff. Admiring his own handiwork wasn’t important at the moment however, so he continued on.

Eventually, he made his way into the market square. It was your typical fare. People of all shapes and sizes milled about, enough to give a constant feeling of activity, but not enough to feel crowded.

He knew straight away where general shops would be, along with the various equipment vendors. The thought of having some armor was a tantalizing one, but the necessities would come first. With a ring, Benjamin opened the door to the shop, greeting the owner with a wave.

“Welcome, welcome!” said the stocky man as he approached, “Tell me, how may I help you?!”

“Do you sell maps of the Herotiun area?” Benjamin had just barely said those words before the owner bolted back to a corner of the shop. He returned shortly after, unfurling the map with a wiggle. Speedy service indeed.

“Premium quality parchment, inked from the press of master cartographers.” The owner waved his hand in front of the map for extra style. “A wonderful map for a wonderful customer, yes?” He looked to the ex-Author with a miserly smile.

Not one to fall for mercantile pizazz, Benjamin inspected the map for himself. The illustrations did their jobs well enough, but something seemed off about it.

“May I see it a bit closer?” He asked of the owner.

“But of course!” The thick hands of the owner gave the map to Benjamin. “Please, take your time!”

Looking over it personally, the material was indeed of a high quality. But as his eyes looked over it, he realized that it wouldn’t matter. This map was written in gibberish! Odd looking lines and scribbles in place of what would normally be the names of cities and such.

“Excuse me,” Benjamin said while still looking at the map, “but do you have one in english?”

“English?” Asked the owner confusedly as he went back to the corner he kept his maps in. Ben looked up briefly, seeing the blur of a man go through each and every copy he had. He eventually gave up, coming back empty handed.

“My dearest apologies, but I don’t have any maps in ‘english’.” He clasped his hands together and looked at Ben with hopeful eyes. “You seem fluent enough in Dumarin, so perhaps that one will suffice?”

Dumarin? That sounded like it had roots with the god Dumarn. He was this world’s god of self improvement, change, langu- No… he didn’t, did he? He pulled out the scrap of paper he scrawled on and compared it to the map. Sure enough, he had made up another language! From the apparent lack of issues with talking, he didn’t even go all the way, and he just made the written form look strange for the sake of it. While thankful for that instance of laziness, he chose to remember the bloody mythos over his own languages! He could pull his hair out if he wasn’t preoccupied with the owner, who seemed to notice his expressions.

“Is everything alright?” asked the owner, who had begun tapping his fingers against each other. Since the truth would just get him laughed at, Benjamin came up with something on the spot. “Yeah, sorry. I was just born with… dyslexia.”

The shopkeep raised a brow. “Diss-lex-ea?” he sounded out, having likely never heard of such a thing.

Before he could regret using a term foreign to this setting, he continued. “It means I have a harder time reading, unless it’s in English.” He rolled the map back up and smiled nervously. “I’ll take it.”

While he still had a suspicious look on his wide face, the owner seemed more than happy to make a sale than ask any more questions. “Wonderful!” He directed him to approach the counter as he went behind it. “Apologies if I pried a bit much, I simply like to know the needs of my customers. That map will be ten coppers.”

Benjamin reflexively tried to bring the currency into existence, his eyes going wide as his hand was left empty. There weren’t any pockets or pouches he could reach into either. Just as he had thought without realizing earlier, the only thing he had was his cloak. He was flat broke.

With an even more awkward smile than before, Benjamin fessed up. “So, I uh, don’t have any money…”

The owner’s face fell from greedy glee to an unamused frown fast enough to jiggle his jowls. “If you’re looking for charity, go bug the temple.” He pointed a sausage-like finger at the door. “Get out of my store.”

Ben didn’t even try to say anything in his defense, knowing full well there was nothing he could say. As he exited with his head hung low, he could hear the owner mumbling under his breath about ‘damn bums’.

Intentional or not, the owner did end up giving Benjamin some good advice. The temple would be his best bet to find a handout. After shaking the shameful interaction out of his mind, he started walking towards the gleaming building.

Activity on the street calmed more the closer he got. Hustle and bustle had turned to quiet reverence by the time he reached the steps. Approaching the ornate doors, Benjamin felt oddly apprehensive. It was silly of him to feel such a thing of course; the gods in this setting were more like proxies than actual characters. Just one of many ways for him to interact semi-directly as he built the groundwork for everything else. They couldn’t do anything to him, they were all essentially lifeless without his input. Even still, the image of a god setting their sights on him for any reason was one he would rather not imagine.

Finally touching the handle, he pushed open the door. His eyes were assaulted by the lavish and extravagant interior instantly. Gemstones dotted any surface they could. The decor was polished to near blemishless sheens. Everything from the floors to the ceiling exuded a feeling of over indulgence. Even knowing all about this place, the sheer excess still almost hurt to look at.

In stark contrast, the statues made to depict the gods were tame and tasteful. They were each made up of limestone and marble, sculpted with skill and care.

There were seven of them, corresponding to each of the gods. Macab, patron of death and what comes after. Herotia, goddess of heroism and fortune. Valorian, your typical warrior guy with huge muscles. Dumarn, the always shifting god of change and self improvement. Isdri, life giver and nature’s protector. Wex, Kinsoriel’s favored god who presided over knowledge and night. And finally the mysterious head deity, Fayten, lord of time and fate.

Unlike the others, Fayten’s physical appearance was a complete mystery, leading to the statue looking like a faceless cloaked figure. Benjamin knew what he looked like, but not because he had his meta knowledge on this subject; Fayten was Benjamin. To be more precise, Fayten was Benjamin’s in-world persona, allowing him to get more personal than the proxy nature of the other gods.

Before he could continue to think on his pantheon, a voice broke his focus. “Ah, welcome my son!” Looking over where the elderly voice had come from, he saw a priest clothed in garish robes. The priest smiled warmly as he looked the ex-Author once over, faltering a bit once he noticed the grease stain on his cloak. “What brings you to our glorious place of worship today, young one?”

Benjamin gave a little bow of the head before speaking. “Greetings. I hope it’s not too much to ask, but I am in need of supplies for my journey.” Benjamin noticed a mild look of disgust creep up the priest’s face at his request.
“I’m sorry my son, but we do not have the resources to help just anyone that comes to our door.” Even as the priest said this, the king’s ransom that was this temple was still in view. So it was one of those churches. Getting anything at all would be like pulling teeth if he continued like this, he needed to change his approach. Upon realizing that he wasn’t talking with Kinsoriel, he knew what to do.

“I understand that kindly priest, but I am especially needy.” He clasped his eyes together and made the most innocent face he could muster. “I’m on a holy pilgrimage to every temple of note in this land. Yours is first of course.” Oh yeah, lies were on the table here.

The priest squinted as heard those words. “A pilgrimage?” He asked as he rubbed at the greying whiskers on his chin. “Ah! Well, why didn’t you say so earlier my son?” With a more genuine looking smile, he raised a finger. “Give me just a moment. I will go get one of the packs we prepare for such occasions.”

Benjamin nodded and waited as the elderly man shuffled off to the back. Left by himself, his thoughts drifted once again to the gods. It was worth noting that the statues in this church were of the human interpretation. Or if you were a dragon, they were heretical and vain portrayals of their gods. Each of the statues depicted their respective god in the human image. In truth, nobody who knew what they had truly looked like was still alive. This point was one of many that was crucial for creating the conflict surrounding his story.

Too bad knowing any of this did little in helping him now. Each second he spent here made the difference between practical information and context building fluff more apparent.

The priest soon returned, carrying a leather sack with him. Taking up half the space on the back was an emblem representing the Ferroes temple. “Here we are my son, enough hardtack to see your journey through.” Benjamin grimaced as the priest opened it, revealing the bounty of teeth shattering food.

“There is also a pamphlet that shows locations endorsed by our clergy.” He dug it out of the sack, showing the mini three fold pamphlet. Describing it as non-informing would be mincing words. It looked more like something they would give to children, using bright colors and only showing locations as big stars. You couldn’t see any routes or actual geography with the thing, and Benjamin still couldn’t read one bit of it. At least it had the decency to point out what must have been a ‘YOU ARE HERE’ with a big red arrow and an X.

“Thanks Pastor,” Benjamin said as he took the disappointing provisions, “I appreciate these gifts.”

The priest bowed respectfully. “Of course! We love to give back to devout souls like yourself.” As he reciprocated the gesture and started to leave, the priest called one final thing to him. “You may want to look into putting out an escort request, only Fayten knows what’s out there!” At that moment in time, Fayten most certainly did not.

With the pitiful supplies he had managed to scrounge up, Benjamin made his way out of the city. He hoped that the grumpy dragon wouldn’t have too big of a fit when he saw what he had gotten. Something was better than nothing, but this was really stretching it.

Nibbling on the edible rock that was hard tack, he retraced his steps. After an hour, he wasn’t far. As he neared his destination, he smelled something very disconcerting. Burning hair and flesh.

Chapter 8: Business As Usual

Going from page to page in his chosen book was starting to get tiring. While he enjoyed the simple pleasure of retreading a tale he had read time and time again, it didn’t capture his attention nearly as much as it used to. Unable to keep himself immersed any longer, Kinsoriel decided to just put it back into his pocket spell. He considered pulling out one of the others briefly, but didn’t end up doing so.

What was taking that deathbound so long? It had been almost two hours now. One would think that a creature with a limited lifespan would try to be efficient with their time. Clearly that wasn’t the case here. The dragon took to scratching and scoring a boulder as he idled, leaning against a set of pine trees as he did. Scritch scratch, scritch scratch. The tedious rhythm that came from it did little to ease his boredom.

Upon hearing footsteps approaching, he breathed a sigh of relief. “Finally returned have you?” He started to look over and straighten up as he continued, hearing the footsteps stop. “Did you find a map little auth-”

Standing in place of the loon he expected to see was instead other deathbounds. Four of them. “-or?” He finished. Their numbers consisted of three warriors and a magic user. A spearman in light plate, a swordsman with a shield and leather armor, and a larger one in furs with a two handed axe. He could tell the last one was a mage because of the staff he held; along with that pointy hat they were all fond of wearing.

Both Kinsoriel and the group stared at one another for a moment, equally surprised. Their shock was short lived as the big one among them screamed “DRAGON!”

The warriors charged as they drew their weapons. Behind them, the mage pulled out a grimoire and flipped pages rapidly. With a huge flap of his wings, Kinsoriel thrust himself back. The gale’s force gave them pause. The motion was mostly reflexive, though beneficial. Now he was ready to strike down the pests.

He opened his palm, conjuring the mental image of a ball of fire. He focused on how dense the flames should be, the intensity of the heat. Having used this spell countless times before, it seemed strangely fragile. The time it was taking to form was far longer than it should have been. No matter.
“Burning Sphere!” He roared as the flames solidified in his hand, hurling it at the closing heroes.

“Barrier!” The one at the back called out, pointing his staff at the others. They were covered in a light grey shine, and seemed undeterred in the face of the sweltering orb coming towards them. It exploded into a pale haze on contact, and they dashed through unscathed, their barrier spent.

The sight frustrated Kinsoriel. Normally they should be char and ash now since protective spells were generally slow to cast. Even propped up by their little cheat sheet, he would have fried them before the first syllable. Never mind that now, he needed to kill them quickly.

Having closed the distance, the heroes raised their weapons to attack. Kinsoriel raked his claws at the largest, only managing a graze.

He could do little for the other two, who laid into him with sword and spear. The sword glanced off of his night black scales with a shriek. In contrast, the spear struck with a distinct sting! Enough to make the dragon jerk back, purple hued blood dripping from the wound.

Unaccustomed to the sight of his own blood, it made him absolutely livid. His regress pushed him to the trees. The vermin pressed forward, believing they had the advantage. Aided by his fury, Kinsoriel leapt past the advancing deathbounds and rushed towards their mage with a primal gait.

The mage’s face was a mask of terror as the dragon bounded towards him. He read frantically, attempting to repeat that spell no doubt. He wouldn’t get the chance. “Depriving Net!” Kinsoriel snarled, briefly stopping to point a claw. An ethereal net tumbled upon him; his magic and fate were sealed within.

With deadly momentum, the dragon crashed an arm against the ensnared mortal. He slammed into a nearby tree with a sickening ‘thwack’, staining the bark red.

“Mesmer!” A distraught voice came from behind. Kinsoriel turned to meet it, a malicious sneer stretched over his mouth.

“Miss him already? Don’t worry,” He said as he bent over the boulder, “you’ll all be together again shortly.” With a strained heave, he threw the huge rock towards them. Two of them got out of the way in time. The swordsman was slow in his reaction, leaving him with a foot crushed and caught beneath. He wailed in pain while the other two stood around him defensively.

“YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS YOU MONSTER!” The big one declared with guttural rage, pointing his axe at Kinsoriel. Before he could retort, the axe started glowing with a bright light. Kinsoriel’s slitted eyes went wide as he knew what was coming next. As quick as he could, he put his wings in front of his face. “FLASH!” He heard as a blinding light burst out from the axe’s blade. Even with his eyes shut and his wings blocking it, he still saw a sliver of it. These heroes didn’t seem to be rich enough to afford enchanted gear, a dangerous assumption to make. It was expended now at least.

As he pulled back his wings and opened his eyes once more, he looked down on the axeman who was kneeling besides his pinned ally. Hold on, there were three left. Where did the one with the sp-

“ARRHHHHGHGH!” Kinsoriel bellowed as his right wing was stabbed and slashed repeatedly. Given his answer, he thrashed his tail like a bludgeon as he spun around. The attack didn’t strike true, but it forced a reaction from that infuriating little insect. The spearman diving out of the way may have saved him momentarily, but it left him scrambling to get back up. A costly mistake when pit against the experienced dragon. Making a fist, Kinsoriel smashed him into a bloody pile, leaving a visceral impression in the ground.

Looking back to the duo by the boulder, he saw the axe wielder preparing to free his ally. Not by pushing or prying it off, but by winding a piece of cloth around the affected leg. While the dragon wasn’t opposed to seeing his assailants maim themselves in an attempt to flee, his now aching wing demanded he just end it now.

Raising a talon to the sky and standing on his haunches, Kinsoriel brought forth the thought of a thunderstorm to his mind. The crackling power, the darkened skies, all congregated into one thing. Not content with just letting the mana flow at a regular pace, he instead forced more and more into it. “Lightning!” Kinsoriel shouted as he pointed his claw at the duo, a bolt of electric wrath zapping forth from it.

The two barely had time to see their deaths come to them, if any at all. Bright arcs bridged between them as the spell did its job. Smoke rose from their flesh moments before they both burst into flame.

Perhaps he had put a bit too much mana into that one. Call it overcompensating or paranoia, but he wasn’t about to repeat any mishaps. This decision was taxing though, as he was now feeling the aftereffects of channeling so much so quickly. It felt harder to breathe, his limbs trembled.

This little encounter told him all he needed to know. Along with lowering the amount of mana he could contain within himself, the shrinking also affected his output. His body had adjusted to fit the change safely, but that meant everything he cast would be slower than he was used to. Yet another burden for him to shoulder.

At least it was over for now. He trotted over to the boulder and sat beside it, looking over his wounds. That simple spear had done a number on him. The puncture in his side had closed up already, but his poor right wing wouldn’t be flying for a while. Far from the worst shape he’s ever been in, but totally unacceptable against such scum. He stuck out his tongue and began licking at the injuries. Minutes of doing this later, he heard a familiar, grating voice.

“What the?! What is all of this!?” Kinsoriel shifted his gaze over to Benjamin, who was now shaking his head with a hand on his face. What convenient timing, appearing only after a group of heroes tried to kill him.

“Little author, look at me.” Kinsoriel commanded, to which the fool did as asked. With a serious and analytical look, the dragon asked, “Did you send these deathbounds after my head?”

With a confused look, he responded, “What? Why would I do that?! I don’t even know these-” He stopped, face drooping as he looked more at the scene around him. “Oh, I think I saw these guys at the gate earlier.”

Snarling, Kinsoriel demanded his attention with a thump. “Answer me! Were you responsible for this?!”

Slightly shaken, Benjamin quickly responded with a “No!” Kinsoriel looked for any indication of a lie, but found none. Knowing now that he hadn’t been betrayed, he relaxed a little.

Clearing his throat of any residual hostility, he asked another question. “Did you find us a map then?”

“Well, yes and no.” He admitted, looking off to the side. His eyes widened and a smile appeared on his face. “Hold on one for a moment.” Benjamin began inspecting around the mess of a battleground. Kinsoriel wondered what he was doing as he rustled around the trees he smashed that mage into. A minute and some sounds of disgust later, Benjamin emerged holding what looked like a map… and some bloodsoaked garments.

“Now I do.” He said as he continued to go around, scrounging up whatever else he could from the heroes' corpses. It was odd to see a deathbound so open to pillaging from his own. Another face to his insanity maybe. As long as it helped his goals though, Kinsoriel couldn’t care less.

In all, he managed to gather seven gold pieces, four silvers, ten coppers, a money pouch, and a sleeping roll. Everything else was too mangled to make use of.

“Are you done?” Kinsoriel asked, growing tired of seeing him scurry around. When Benjamin had confirmed, the dragon gestured that he come closer with a claw. “Good. Out with that map then, I haven’t got all day.”

At his words, the mortal chuckled nervously. “Alright, let me just unfurl this here.” He opened up the map for both of them to see, staring at it. Kinsoriel could see him starting to sweat silently, also noticing that he wasn’t moving his head.

“Well? What is it now?” With a crestfallen look, the man admitted what was the matter. “I can’t read.”

Leaning back and away from the map, Kinsoriel looked at him with confusion and disbelief. “Are you not a writer then? How can you say you can’t read after calling yourself an author?!” As he ranted, another flaw in the claim came to mind. “You’re speaking in the same language for Dumarn’s sake!”

The little author, if you could call someone who couldn’t read that, knelt down and apologized. “I’m sorry, really! I lost it yesterday, I swear!” No matter how preposterous it sounded, Kinsoriel’s intuition told him this was the truth. Moments like these made him wonder if this deathbound was the only insane one. Was his ability to sense lies going dull?

He could scarcely be mad though. This madman’s plight was so outrageous, it was almost comical.

“Forget it. I’ll read it for you then.” This perked him up, and they both got to work. Though it felt demeaning to his intellect going over the words like he was teaching a wyrmling, it wasn’t any real issue. Benjamin requested that they go over the words multiple times, until he could learn them. It irritated the dragon, but he obliged if it meant he wouldn’t have to do this more than necessary. Him not taking very long on each word also helpted.

After what felt like half an hour, he managed to find where they would need to go. “There,” Ben said as he pointed towards a city, “that’s where he’ll be.” Kinsoriel grimaced once he saw the distance between.

Chapter 9: Pro Quo

After picking up enough words to make sense of the map, Benjamin was able to pinpoint where they needed to go. Tesktar was on the other side of the mountain, but not far at all when you could fly. That should put a grin on his protagonist’s maw, right?

Benjamin looked over his shoulder to see the dragon’s reaction with a smile of his own. Kinsoriel’s face was instead one of sour annoyance.

“Is something the matter?” He asked as he wound the map back up.

“That’s going to take a week!” Kinsoriel complained with a huff.

A week? Getting where they were right now would have taken a week, had they not flown. Why would they start walking now? With his confusion probably visible on his face, Kinsoriel showed what he meant.

He extended his right wing for Benjamin to see. And see he did. It had been damaged in many places, and had purple stains here and there. Such wounds would definitely keep him grounded. The sight begged a question.

“Not to sound crass,” he said as put a hand to his chin, “but couldn’t you fix that with some healing magic or something?”

Kinsoriel tucked his wing back to its resting position as he bared his teeth. “Do you think me so inept that I would not consider something like that!? Do you know nothing at all of magic? Of spellcraft?”

The ex-Author shrank at his words, ashamed at that failure of his. “I… I don’t,” he said remorsefully, “but is it really not possible?”

Though still angry, Kinsoriel eased up with a grumble. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at a deathbound’s ignorance. Heed my words then.”

Benjamin nodded, curious as to what he would say. The dragon leaned back against the boulder as he began. “You aren’t entirely wrong, it is possible to mend injuries with magic. But while possible, it is difficult to do. As with all spells, you need to be able to envision what will happen in detail.” He stopped for a moment to see if Benjamin was following along before continuing. “You need to account for organs, for bone, for veins, all that is damaged. Surface injuries are the easiest of course since you can see all you need.”

Up until this point, Kinsoriel had been explaining this with a surprising level of calm. This changed as he went on, sounding more bitter. “But none of that matters here, because you can’t use it on yourself.”

Not entirely sure what he meant, Benjamin asked, “Why not?”

Kinsoriel frowned. “Because it’s excruciating. The moment it starts, you feel everything. Healing magic requires complete attention. If you lose concentration, no matter how briefly, you let loose mana that had previously been altering your body. I’ve seen some mortals try it before. It never ends well.” The imposing creature seems to shudder for a moment. The implication also manages to get a gulp out of Benjamin. “Even with my mastery of the arcane, I wouldn’t risk it.”

Disheartening as it was for Kinsoriel, perhaps this could be an opportunity. Both to get in his main character’s good graces, and to reclaim some semblance of ability. “Could you teach me how to do it then? How to use magic?”

Without much delay, Kinsoriel gave a short laugh. “And why would I teach a deathbound of all things my craft? Especially you,” he stared daggers at Ben as he finished, “why waste such a boon on some moron who’ll just forget it?”

The hostility in that last sentence was almost palpable. It was enough to choke Ben up a bit as he struggled to make his case. “I get how bad that may sound to you, but please Kinsoriel,” he clasped his hands as he made his plea, “help me to serve you better.”

Phrasing it that way seemed to pique his interest a bit. “Oh, so now you want to serve me? Whatever happened to finding your book, little author who can’t read?”

Benjamin could feel his cheeks blush from embarrassment and anger. Trying not to let it get in the way, he proceeded on. “That’s still my main goal, but it will only come back to me if I help you. Imagine how useful someone who could heal you would be!”

Kinsoriel’s fiery eyes looked closely at him, seemingly deciding something a moment later with a sigh. “This is a not a common occurrence, me coming to be harmed.” He idly put a hand over his side as he said this. “Even still, I see the value you propose. We’ll talk of this later.”

With that, Kinsoriel got himself back up and started walking. Benjamin wanted to get started immediately, but didn’t say anything. Considering they were surrounded by the bodies of heroes barely an hour away from a city, it was wise not to linger anyway.

They walked for a few hours, only stopping to consult the map. Looking over it, it seemed he wouldn’t need any help to read the words. Thankfully, that re-learning seemed to stick. The ones he had been taught felt natural to him, put back into their rightful place in his mind. This would certainly help him not get on the scaly grumps’ nerves.

But of course, there just couldn’t be an upside without any strings attached. During this time, Ben first experienced yet another symptom of his insertion into the story; fatigue. He didn’t really notice it on the trip to the city or back, but it certainly made itself known now. Exhaustion pummeled him with each and every step, commanding that he stop. Pushing through it was getting harder as they went on. It got to the point that he was starting to pant with dogged breaths.

Kinsoriel seemed to notice this as well, giving a disappointed look. “Already tired? The sun hasn’t even set yet!” Benjamin would have said something to the effects of ‘We can keep going, I just need a break’, but his lungs refused to waste any air.

Rolling his eyes, Kinsoriel laid himself down, pointing to the ground in front of him. “Sit.” Benjamin didn’t need to be told twice, his knees almost buckling as he sat himself down.
The dragon just observed him for a second with half lidded eyes, exhaling heavily as he put up a finger. “Pocket.” he said as he moved his finger horizontally. A black void followed its path, opening up like a zipper. Once he finished, he thrust a hand into the magical hole. When he pulled it back out, it held a book. He smiled warmly when he first looked at it, short as it was, before taking on a serious expression.

“I’ve made up my mind, little author. I’ll be teaching you.” He looked down at Ben. “But only if you agree to my demands.”

Ben, still catching his breath, asked, “What do you want?”

With a smug and satisfied look, Kinsoriel began rattling off his list. “You will do as I say, when I say, how I say. You will address me first as master or teacher, though lord is also acceptable. You will not question my teaching methods. And you will pass any tests I may have to show my efforts are not wasted.” He crossed his arms and reverted to his serious demeanor. “Will you agree and abide by these demands, in exchange for my tutelage?”

While not completely coherent, Ben didn’t see any issue with those terms. Sure they could prove to be grating, but that’s a minor thing. Long term thinking was what would get him out of this mess, and this would be a means to that end.

“I,” Benjamin started in between breaths, “will agree, and abide.” Kinsoriel raised a brow and tilted his head up, as if waiting for something else. What else could he want? Oh, wait. “Master Kinsoriel.” Benjamin added after the fact.

That appeared to be the correct move, garnering a look of acceptance from the dragon. “Then from this day forward, I shall mold you into the perfect servant.” He tapped the cover of his book with a claw twice. “And we start that now.” Something about being called a servant by his own creation rubbed Ben the wrong way, but it’s not like it changed anything.

Kinsoriel asked him to come read with him from the book he held. Once he could see the cover of it, he couldn’t help but grin. It was ‘Spellcraft for Wyrmlings’. While he didn’t remember a lick of what it contained, he knew that it held great value to his character. Maybe he was okay with sharing it because he assumed Ben wouldn’t know of its significance, but that didn’t change the act. If he could get more like this out of him, a full character arc wouldn’t be out of reach.

Once at his side, he realized that the book was a bit… out of his demographic. It featured cartoony images and used what appeared to be simple sentences. It resembled that kiddie pamphlet in many ways actually.

“I understand this may be a bit much for a deathbound,” his new teacher remarked from above him, “but we will have to make due.” While being considered below the level of a child stabbed at his pride, he couldn’t deny that he technically was. He’d need to rebuild his vocabulary, and what better way than something like this. Well, there were probably plenty of ways, but he’d already agreed to not question his master’s methods.
Before he could ask which words were which, they were interrupted by a growling coming from the bushes in front of them.

Chapter 10: Mind Cultivation

Closing the book with a solid thump, Kinsoriel raised his eyes to the bushes. Who dares interrupt him? Regardless of what he was doing, even if it was such an asinine thing as teaching a mortal, it should demand respect. Whatever had made that growl would learn this soon enough.

“Show yourself!” His words were met with infuriating silence. As he was raising himself, something stepped out.

It stood on its hind legs, a tall and lanky thing when compared to a human. It had a mangy coat of whitish-grey fur with brown accents. The structure of its bones resembled that of a wolf, though a bit softer. All of this together allowed Kinsoriel to know exactly what it was; a Yotee.

“I’m sorry your greatness!” the yotee sniveled before him with its tail between its legs, “I didn’t know that was your prey!”

His prey? Oh, it was talking about the little author. “No,” he said as he cast a glance at the man, “I’m not eating this deathbound.”

At this, the yotee’s ears perked up. “Then… may I have him?”

Kinsoriel couldn’t help but make a growl of his own at this. “You may not.” He could hear a small breath of relief from his side.

The yotee snarled. “Why not?” It started rearing itself back a bit, hunching over. “It’s not fair that you dragons can just take what you want, and not even eat immediately! Come on,” It crouched back even further, “I’ll just take one bite!”

Once it finished speaking, it sprung forward, leaping and bounding towards Benjamin with slobbering delight. The little author moved behind the dragon as this happened. It’s a shame he would miss this example of what happens to those who don’t listen. The aftermath would have to suffice.

With reflexes honed from centuries of use, Kinsoriel raised his free hand to the side. The yotee unwittingly flung himself into the dragon’s palm as he attempted to get around him. A cruel look crept along his maw, closing his hand around the beast until he felt a decisive pop. He let go of the crushed sack of fur and blood, letting it fall to the ground with a wet flop. As he began licking off what had splattered onto his claws, Benjamin peaked back into view.

“Is it over?” What a stupid question, of course it was already over. That cur thought it could just ignore its better and do as it pleased.

It was strange how it had been so brazen though. Scavenger types usually knew not to test him. Perhaps being half his real size had diminished his intimidation. Regardless, whether born from desperate hunger or misplaced confidence, it was beyond foolish to think that would work.

Benjamin circled around, shaking his head upon seeing what remained. Kinsoriel scrunched up his face a bit as he thought of something. Why had he hidden himself? A deathbound’s ingrained cowardice couldn’t be blamed here. That blasted ‘rule’ of his would negate any attempts on his life, so what was this?

“Little author,” he said, waiting a moment to get his attention, “why did you cower behind me?”

The deathbound took a moment to answer back, looking like he didn’t fully grasp what was asked at first. “So that you could deal with this guy a bit easier.” He gestured at the lump with a slight grimace.

It felt like the truth, but something about this was tickling the back of his mind. With nothing else to go off of at the moment though, he decided he would need to revisit this later.

Besides that, he still needed to begin his lesson. He opened his book back up, giving a ‘come here’ point at the ground beside him. Once his pupil-to-be joined him once again, they resumed their little reading session.

Reading with one who was barely a step above a newborn was as difficult as it sounds. Having to say what each word meant ticked off the dragon a bit, but he already expected it. At least he didn’t need to define them, and pronunciation was an issue he surprisingly never ran into. There was just one exception to this.

“Etherkinetic Flow?” the little author said curiously, “What is that?”

With a talon, Kinsoriel traced thin streaks of mana through the air in the crude shape of a man. “This is the mana that you hold within,” he said as he gestured to the figure, “in many ways, it resembles blood circulation.” He puts a hole through the middle of it with his index claw. “Unlike blood, there is no organ to pump it. It instead flows through us all on its own.” With his claw, he overlaps the hands of the figure with additional mana, making them look larger. “Also unlike blood, you can control where it goes.”

After his little demonstration, he waves away the mana dismissively. “That is etherkinetic flow, though it may also be called E.K. to shorten it. Any questions?” Benjamin’s face lit up as he finished his explanation, though not of any emotion. It looked more like he had suddenly remembered something more than anything.

“Nope, I’ve got it.” he said confidently. Nodding, Kinsoriel resumed the read through.

Time had flown by before he knew it, night quickly approaching. To his honest surprise, the little author seemed to absorb all this information like a gluttonous sponge. From his occasional glances, Kinsoriel noted it wasn’t pretend either. He was actually engrossed in his words. Surely, the dragon had a gift for teaching he hadn’t realized till now.

But now came time for his first test. “Now that I have gone over the basics with you, I want you to show me what you have learned.”

Clapping his hands together, the deathbound bowed his head. “Sure, what can I do for you,” he paused before finishing, “master?”

Smirking, Kinsoriel closed the book and took it back. “You will perform the ‘light’ spell, and you will do it as a dragon would; without aides.” Was he being too demanding? Absolutely, that’s the point. Such a failure would only solidify how different the teacher is from the student. He waited with knowing humor, eager to commit his pupil’s impending blunder to mem-

“Light.” The man held a hand above his head, and from it came a ball of light. It was of very poor strength, barely fit to illuminate more than a couple of feet, but it was unmistakably ‘light’. It sputtered out of existence shortly after.

Awash with surprise, Kinsoriel first thought the most obvious reason this was possible; he had cheated. Slinking around the area to find just how, he checked every possible way he could think of. No notes among the trees or etched in their bark. The air tasted the same as it did before the test. Despite giving a weird look, Benjamin obliged when asked to show his hands and arms. Smooth and devoid of any ink.

All this searching only ended up refuting his assumption. There simply wasn’t any way to have cheated in such a short time, especially when he was watching all along.

This deathbound really managed to do what many of his brethren could never hope to accomplish. And on his first attempt.
“Did I pass?” he asked as he rolled his sleeves back down. Kinsoriel did his best not to appear overly enthused. The last thing he needed was a servant who thinks himself a prodigy.

“You performed well by mortal standards,” he said dismissively with a shrug of his wings, “far below the mark of a dragon of course, but I can see a speck of potential there.”

Benjamin’s face dropped a bit at the lackluster review. “Don’t despair, we’ll make you a worthwhile servant yet.” He raised a claw. “I think you do deserve a reward for your efforts however.” While it was important to establish his authoritative role, recognizing accomplishments was just as vital. Even if he would never admit such a thing, he had been impressed today.

It took a minute or two to dig it out, but he had made another fire pit. After depositing the body of the yotee in it, he started cooking it with precise breaths of fire. This was one of the few situations he preferred his breath to spellcraft. Better flavor, a nice even char, and even a bit relaxing. The sizzling and crackling was like music to him, the sounds of a successful roast.

After thoroughly cooking the yotee, Kinsoriel began to divide the meat into different sections, setting aside a special piece for his student. Once prepared with a stone for weak mortal skin, he called the man over. “Here is your reward.” he said as he handed him his portions.

Instead of gratitude or thanks, the little author looked almost revolted. “Is that… a brain?”

Kinsoriel nodded with pride. “Eat it, and you shall deepen your connection with Wex. It’s an essential part of any budding spellcrafter.”

After poking and prodding at it, he seemed to understand its value and smiled shakily. “T-thanks.”

He must not have believed that Kinsoriel could ever be so generous as to give up the prime cut. While it was definitely a bit more of a reward than he deserved, it was also another part of his training. This would reinforce desirable behavior, make him really give his all to please. Maybe reading that taming guide for a laugh years ago wasn’t such a bad idea.

Satisfied with the act, he started to partake himself. Despite his skillful cooking, yotee meat still tasted mediocre at best. Every hunk he bit off just confirmed this. Their lack of taste is probably one of their best deterrents to being hunted. Their scrawny nature was another. This could be seen when Kinsoriel was left a bit hungry, even after eating every last bit.

While disappointing, it was enough to keep him sated for the night. He looked over to his pupil to see how he enjoyed his treat. The brain alone lay half eaten on his stone. Benjamin himself looked quite queasy.

“Ooooohhhhh…” he groaned as he lay a hand on his stomach. It seemed his pupil really wasn’t used to the delicacy. “I think-” Benjamin started before putting a hand in front of his mouth and almost retching, “I think I’ll be going to bed now.”

Kinsoriel lightly waved a hand, dismissing him. Though a bit sad that he couldn’t eat all of it, that didn’t mean that brain would go to waste. He snatched the rest of it up for himself while the deathbound got out his sleeping roll. Mmm… a much better way to end a meal, a nice and creamy palate cleanser.
He’d have to rectify taking back some of that reward tomorrow. It was on him as the master to do so after all, and he took his title very seriously.
Everything said and done, he curled himself up and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 11: Formless Answers

Rays of sunshine forced their way into Ben’s eyes as day broke. They didn’t need to try very hard, he’d been awake for the past half hour.

How he hadn’t barfed last night was a miracle in itself. It was one thing to eat something that he had seen speak, something he also had issue with, but its brain? Ugh, it was hardly any wonder why he had trouble staying asleep.

At least the roll he took was comfortable enough. Certainly beats the ground.

He heard the large body of his mentor start to rise from behind. In a voice not entirely all there yet, his main character said, “Awaken, my servant.”
With nothing else to do anyway, he obliged, getting himself up and out of the bed roll. This earned a pleased rumble.

“Much better, that’s the prompt response I’m looking for.” Kinsoriel continued while he began packing the roll back up. “We have much ground to cover today, both in your education, and towards Tesktar.”

He stretched himself out as Benjamin finished, and the popping of joints could be heard. “Ahh, there we are.” Once done with his stretches, he looked over to Ben. “Come then, let’s be off.” Agreeing with him, Benjamin pulled out the map and they got back on track.

The path they were taking was a serene one. Clear air and a distinct lack of noise outside of their own steps. Such elements would make for a terrific scene down the line, something he could look forward to.

His compatriot didn’t seem to see it the same way. A small scowl seemed fixed on the dragon’s face the entire time.

“Is something wrong, master?” Saying that last part still felt unnatural in every way.

“No little author, nothing more than what’s already wrong.” The scowl grew as he said this. “I loathe being forced to walk.”

Yeah, that sounded about right. “Look on the brightside,” Benjamin said with a smile, “I’ll be able to help you with that in no time at all.”

Kinsoriel’s scowl gave way to a smirk alongside a snicker. “Ohohoho, that’s a good one. I thank you for your levity.”

That stung in a unique way, something surprisingly common with him. At least he managed to improve his character’s mood.

The tree line gradually thinned, giving way to a refreshingly different sight; a lake. Its waters were crystal clear, reflecting beautifully as the sun neared its apex. Benjamin could barely see the faraway edge at the other end. He couldn’t say the same for the path they would need to walk along, stretching even further.

“Look here, my student.” Kinsoriel sat beside the shoreline, peering into its depths. “I believe we have a learning opportunity.”

A bit skeptical, Benjamin asked, “Do we?”

“Yes, we do.” the dragon confirmed with a slight edge to his voice. “Here I can show you one of the principles of magic use in practice.”

Knowing these principles again after yesterday’s lesson, this caught Ben’s curiosity. “My apologies then teacher,” he said with a short bow, “please go on.“

“Good. Now as I was saying, we can put a principle into practice, number three to be exact.” Kinsoriel raised a brow expectantly. “You do remember which one that is, right?”

“Of course,” Ben rattled off speedily, “It’s ‘Magic provides a formless answer to solid problems’.” It meant that while magic could solve just about anything, its effectiveness was tied to how the caster used it. Much like trying to use a hammer to tighten a screw, incorrect usage wouldn’t get results.

“I’m half surprised that didn’t fall out of your head last night,” the scaly teacher lightly mocked, “but yes, you are correct.” He tapped a talon against his head. “To be a spellcrafter worthy of service, creativity is a must.”

Still unsure what he was getting at, Benjamin waited for him to carry on. “We could walk around this giant puddle like mindless beasts and waste our time, or…” He turned to face the lake, holding his claws together to form the shape of a circle. “We use a little creativity. Ice Beam!”

In between the space made by his claws, a white dot started to appear. It rapidly grew in size, going from a speck to that of a tomato in a second. Once it looked like it would touch the dragon’s hands, it instead started to fire out a solid ray of white energy, aimed at the water. Any spot that made contact froze up into a mass of ice, as thick and solid as the ground.

With a sly grin more fitting of a snake, Kinsoriel walked forward while continuing the spell. “Follow!” He shouted enthusiastically over his shoulder as he tread the new path.

Benjamin did so reluctantly, doing his best not to trip. Though he had managed to quell some of his fears, the slippery surface was the thing he dreaded the most. All it would take was one fall in just the right way, and bam, his head is cracked open like an egg. They were also treading just over a lake, and Benjamin would still not like to find out if he could swim.

The fact that Stromwell, the guy who writes anti-climactic deaths left and right, had total power over him didn’t help. Thank Father he was so full of himself though. He’s always been one to revel in how right he is, and this bet of his was just another way. But while his pride would probably keep him from railroading like that, one could never really know.

He was separated from his thoughts when walked right into the dragon’s back leg, falling back onto his rear.

“Gah! Watch where you’re going!” Kinsoriel complained as he turned his head around.

After raising himself back up carefully, Ben defended himself. “Why did you just stop?!”

His teacher looked away without saying anything. It was then that Benjamin started to notice what had happened. He had stopped using the spell, Kinsoriel’s chest was moving as though out of breath. And most worrisome, his forelimbs were quivering.

“Master…” Benjamin said to ease the next part of the sentence, “did you run out of mana?”

The dragon’s head bobbed up, but he didn’t turn this time. “I have not my student, a master of the arcane never exhausts all their mana.” In a slightly somber tone, he said, “They just know their limits.”

Moments like these would make for great character building from behind his pen, but he wasn’t. It was so much harder to do the correct action when he was the one responsible for it. For the sake of this world, he’d give it a try.

“Well, that’s why you got me right?” He stepped to the front, carefully avoiding the edge of the ice. “Let me help.”

With what he had relearned yesterday, he knew the process of casting a spell now. He had to fully visualize what the spell would do, he needed to draw the power out from his body evenly, and he had to maintain focus. The first part came to him naturally given his plethora of experience as an Author, but the physical component gave him a lot of trouble. He would just need to make due.

Already having seen the spell in action, he replicated Kinsoriel’s motions. He clasped his hands together in the shape of a circle. In his mind, he imagined the chilling orb that would grow in his hands, expanding till it nearly reached his skin. At that moment, it would shoot out and freeze whatever he aimed it at.

That was the easy part. Now to truly bring it to life. It was a tingling feeling, almost a bit painful as he forced his mana into his hands. Whatever muscle or motion it was that allowed this was lacking for sure. Such a sloppy draw made it come out unevenly, but it was happening. With the ball as good as it was going to get, Benjamin declared, “Ice Beam!”

It fired off successfully, but it was short-lived. The beam lasted for only one second before sputtering out. All he had managed was to make a floating platform rather than stable ground. They were still only three quarters of the way through the lake, he couldn’t contribute like this.

“Ah, a raft!” exclaimed Kinsoriel with a delighted rumble, “Now that’s principle three in action!”

What? Oh, well what do you know, it was a raft. It seems that his weak showing had inadvertently been just what they needed. You wouldn’t see him complaining about that. What was more surprising came after.

From out of his eyesight, he could feel his head being gently pat by the dragon. Gently for a dragon, that is. It actually hurt his neck a bit. He did his best not to express this. The last thing he needed was for the grump to know he could hurt him.

They both got atop the platform. Kinsoriel pushed them using the solid ice as leverage.

“Now while that was good thinking, there was something else I noticed, my student.” The dragon pointed a claw at one of Benjamin's arms. “Your E.K. was not even. It wasn’t even just sloppy. It could be potentially dangerous.”

Ben couldn’t help but raise a brow. Dangerous? How? “If you’ll remember my blood example from yesterday, you’ll find another similarity. Clots.” He could feel the arm that was being pointed at itch and shudder as that word hung around him. “Never allow your mana to clot little author. Those precious seconds that it takes to fix could be death in an intense situation.”

That’s… better than he expected. For a moment, he was imagining something far worse. Mangled limbs, a heart attack, something along those lines. This was still very useful information though, and he was grateful to be given it.

“Thank you for your feedback teacher,” Benjamin said genuinely, “I will be careful not to do so.”

Shrugging it off, Kinsoriel said, “I just don’t want my time spent training you to be a waste. You’ll die someday, and I want to get as much use from you as I can get.”

Successfully souring Benjamin’s gratitude, they both sat silently while drifting towards the shoreline. Changing this dragon was going to be a slow and irksome process.

Chapter 12: Ulterior Motives

Crossing that meager pool of a lake turned out to be much more hassle than it should have been. He had once again underestimated the toll this curse took on him. Every one of these inconveniences chipped at his patience a bit more each time. But it gave his servant-in-training a chance to shine, so he couldn’t be too mad. To think, even with his flawed technique, the little author was able to cast spells in only two days. Such unprecedented results only reflected well on his teacher.

There was no doubt about it now; he really had gotten Wex’s favor. Spreading knowledge was something the god had always encouraged, and here he was managing to enrich even a deathbound. They might not make such obvious appearances any more, but he’d be a fool not to see it. Everything would be alright in the end, Wex was surely working with Fayten to make it so.

That said, it would be in his best interest to continue as he was. He still needed to make good on his half given reward, and what better way to do that than with a special lesson?

“Seeing as you weren’t able to enjoy all of the brain yesterday, I’ve decided to give you a different reward.”

With a curious look, Benjamin asked, “What is it?”

Enthusiastically, he answered. “A useful bit of history mortals have all forgotten.”

“Oh,” his pupil replied in a flat tone, “sure, that’d be great.”

Such a lacking response almost made him want to scold the behavior, but discipline mustn’t be connected with rewards. Besides, he’d likely change his tune when he heard what his gracious teacher had in store.

“Today, I’ll be telling you of how your kind came to be,” he paused for dramatic effect, “and of our feuds origin.”

Instead of that enthralled look he had yesterday, Benjamin didn’t seem very moved. He was paying attention, sure, but it wasn’t nearly the same thing. He was bored. How rude of him.

“My apologies,” Kinsoriel derided with a dose of sarcasm, “it appears you must not care for such a trivial thing as history.”

With a sigh, the little author shook his head. “I don’t mean any offense you know,” he said as he put two fingers on his forehead, “this is just something I actually managed to keep with me.”

Oh really? The deathbound who forgets how to read and write overnight knows something the rest of his kind doesn’t. Very well, if he knew the material already, it was fine to test for it.

“In that case, consider this an exam. Tell it to me as I would have told it to you.” This ought to quell disruptive tendencies from forming any further. Humiliation for outspoken ignorance would be the cure.

Benjamin, who was seemingly deep in thought as he stared to the side, muttered to himself. “Okay, how to do this…” Once he looked back to his master, he started to do as he was asked.

“So humanity and the other races were created to help ease the dragon's burdens. All well and good, until envy crept into their hearts. They coveted that which they lacked, the god’s favor.”

Kinsoriel’s skeptical look couldn’t help but be softened as he went on. So far, he’d been repeating the tale faithfully.

“Out of these desires, Macab was born. Death and its consequences spread throughout the land. The rest of the gods, disturbed by this, cut off direct contact with all their creations.”

Before the dragon’s jaw could drop at this unexpectedly accurate retelling, Benjamin capped it off with, “Or so it goes.”

Hold on just a moment, why say that? “Excuse me, just what do you mean by that?”

In a nonchalant manner, Benjamin said, “Did I say something wrong?”

“Do not act oblivious, you know exactly what I ask.” After a few moments stuck with an unsure look, it became clear he did not. Doing his best not to take it as an insult, Kinsoriel made himself clear. “You said ‘Or so it goes’. Why?”

“Oh, that.” He rubbed at his chin with a slightly distressed look. “I was able to keep the mythos of this world with me, but not the real line of events. I know that it’s going to be important for the story though.”

What a unique way to disappoint. Even if half of what he said was complete gibberish, his view was still very apparent. To think, such a lowly being could ever have the audacity to call his history a myth. What could have been a true moment of growth for his kind, befouled by his insanity. It made his claws itch and his teeth grind.

Fearing that he might not be able to control himself at that moment, he decided to go take a breath elsewhere. As he started walking off, he heard Benjamin’s voice from behind him.

“W-what are you doing?”

Not bothering to look back, Kinsoriel called, “Taking a break for your benefit. Do not follow.”

Shhhrash, shhhrash, shhhrash. Tree after tree, all ripped apart in a rage. Even after such brutality against the forest around him, Kinsoriel still had that hot feeling in his head. Despite finding a suitably calm area to vent his frustrations, he found himself having a hard time completely letting it go. It was surprising how much it really dug at him to hear someone deny the truth. No, that wasn’t the only thing. He’d seen plenty of mind choking stupidity from others of his kind and not felt even half as mad. Why was it any different now?

The sounds of approaching footsteps spurned his fury further. Being offensively ignorant was one thing, but disobeying his orders was another.

“Didn’t I say NOT to follow?!” the dragon near shouted, his face gnarled up.

“Oh, but I don’t think you told me that.” came an unfamiliar voice. It was unmistakably that of a human, but something about it felt… off.

Turning about immediately to face this unknown, what he saw was unexpected. It was definitely a male human, but it looked very strange. He had this dark grey two piece garment that looked unlike anything he’d seen before. There was some striped thing hanging down from his neck, contrasting the spotless white behind it. Actually, every bit of him was obscenely clean for being in the middle of this damn forest. That disgusting facial fur mortals sometimes had was present on this one as well, but seemed completely under his control. Even with his great vision, Kinsoriel could not spot a single hair that strayed out of line. This man had an almost unnatural look to him, aided further from the apparent lack of any weapon.

“Good day to you Mr. Kinsoriel, my name is Stromwell,” the man said with an unfitting ease to his voice, “and I believe you’ve met my brother Ben.”

Oh gods above, there’s more of them? He had his answer for this man’s strangeness at the least.

“That I have,” Kinsoriel responded, “he’s to be my servant, once properly trained.” Saying this seemed to elicit a subdued laugh from ‘Stromwell’. His brow furrowed. “Do you find something I have said amusing, deathbound?”

“Oh don’t mind me, it’s just something of an inside joke, so to speak.”

This casual attitude was more than enough from Benjamin. He couldn’t spare any more patience for this from another.

“If that’s all, then make for the horizon and stop pestering me.”

With a folding of his hands, Stromwell disagreed. “My appologies, this isn’t just a recreational visit. I’ve come to check on my brother’s welfare.”

There was something in that sentence that tripped Kinsoriel’s sense for lies, though he couldn’t pick out which part of it. He idly pulled out a black book and thumbed through, paying the now simmering dragon no mind.

“How considerate,” he said mockingly, “too bad you made this trip for nothing then. I’d expect another from his bloodline to know about that power he has.”

Not even looking up from the book, Stromwell answered. “That’s the problem.”

This caught the dragon’s attention. “What do you mean by that?”

“I really shouldn’t let anyone else know, but you are my brother’s master.” Though miniscule, Stromwell laughed as he said that. “Oh, why not? Alright, I’ll tell you, but only if you can keep it between us. Agreed?"

Shaking his head and agreeing to those terms, Kinsoriel drew closer to hear what he had to say. He closed the book and whispered up to him.

“My brother’s powers, I don’t think they are working.” His eyes widened as he continued, “If he were to be attacked, it might just be the end of him.”

That tickling feeling he got when he saw someone lie… it wasn’t there just now. He was telling the truth.

Clearing his throat slightly, he smiled up at the dragon. “But I’m glad to see him in your hands. I’m certain you’ll take care of him for me.”

There it was again, that twinge of a lie that Kinsoriel couldn’t single out.
Stromwell groaned slightly as he wiped something off his clothing, before looking back to the dragon. “Well, I’ll be off for now. I’ve other business to attend to.” He gave a dignified bow, ending it with a, “Ta-ta.”

As the man turned and began to walk away, it occurred to Kinsoriel that he hadn’t gotten all the answers he desired. Luckily for him, he made no such promise for this mortal’s safety.

He crept up closer, eyes set on his target as he leisurely stepped behind a tree. His hand darted out to grab him. All he found between his claws was a fist full of air. He quickly looked behind the tree, only to see that there was nothing there.

This odd interaction opened up multitudes of questions he just didn’t have the means to answer. Those weren’t his primary concern at the moment though; he needed to see for himself if that juicy bit of info held water.

---

Was such an unintentional slip really worth storming off for so long? Surely his main character wasn’t that sensitive over little more than a religious misgiving, right? No, that couldn’t be it. He had intentionally made the dragon less pious to better gel with the rest of the cast down the road. What else could it be then? Would omitting the truth more often be better for the both of them?

All these questions and more littered the ex-Author’s mind as he waited like he was told. He thought of going after the big baby, but they weren’t nearly close enough for that to do anything good. It may have even driven more of a wedge between them. World knowledge or not, interpersonal timing was always relevant when getting characters to act the right way.

When he heard the rumbling of the approaching dragon, Benjamin stood up from the grass he was sat upon. Kinsoriel’s face looked far less upset now, replaced instead with thoughtful expression.

“Feel better?” Ben asked as he came closer.

Kinsoriel gave a shrug with his wings and walked past. “I can control my anger at this moment, so yes. Come on then, you’ve wasted enough of my time here.”

Unlike other instances of their silent plodding, the dragon kept glancing back at Benjamin. Having those fiery, vertically slitted eyes constantly checking back made him feel like he had done something wrong without knowing it. He didn’t bring it up with the reaction he had earlier in mind though.

The path they were taking was starting to look more traveled as their destination was neared. Grass and vegetation thinned, replaced by compacted dirt. According to the map, they should only be a few days away now.

They made camp as the sun began to set. Well, as much camp as you could make with just a bedroll that is.

“So teacher, what’s on the lesson plan for tonight?”

Kinsoriel, who had up to this point been focused on something else, was brought back into reality. “Hmm? Oh yes, that. I believe we should practice your concentration for tonight.” His neutral expression broke into a toothy grin. “And I know the perfect spell to do this with. Look closely.”

Benjamin looked on eagerly, not wanting to squander any of this potentially life saving information. Supported by his tail, Kinsoriel clapped both of his hands over his head.

“Flame Arch.” After saying this, the space in between his hands lit up with a bright glow. Opening his hands slowly, a thick line of flame was left in their wake, keeping the palms connected. The heat from the shaped fire was far less intense than it looked, though that could be on purpose.

“This requires constant attention to maintain its form. Since you only need to worry about the shape, it is much easier to multitask. Talking as I am right now would be much harder with others.”

He kept up the spell for a few more moments before clapping his hands back together. The flames died the moment his hands touched again, looking as though nothing had happened.

“Since you were able to mimic Ice Ray, you should be able to do this just fine. I want you to use that spell and hold it for as long as you can. Got it?”

Cautious but optimistic, Ben nodded and prepared himself. Replicating the motions of his mentor, he clapped his hands high above his head. A line of static flames emitting from his palms, in the shape of an arch; that’s the image. With respect to his E.K., he started to channel the mana into his hands. It was still an alien feeling to him, and even if he knew what he should do, that didn’t make it any easier.

Once he felt the heat pool, he recited the same words he had heard. “Flame Arch.” With this, he opened In an almost praising motion. The magical fire traced along the path his hands had taken. It wasn’t particularly strong of course, but he was able to maintain it this time.

“Well done, well done indeed!” He smiled a bit at the commendation, not paying much attention as the dragon circled around him. His focus was centered solely on this spell, which had sunk down a little in the middle.

Wrangling it back into shape meant keeping the image fresh in his mind. Again, not the area he struggled in. Keeping the spell supplied with a steady flow of mana was the real challenge here.

That is, until he heard a loud snapping of fingers behind him. Yelping in alarm, he jumped back. The flame lingered in the air for a moment before falling down, sizzling like thermite as it touched the soil. It petered out shortly after.

Benjamin looked behind, seeing the disappointed mug of his teacher. “What was that for?!” he exclaimed as he felt his heart still thumping in his throat.

“I believe I already told you, didn’t I? Concentration. Magic will be useless to you if your foes can break your focus, and they will certainly try. Along with this, I also wanted-” Kinsoriel paused, seemingly unsure of what he wanted to say. Given his usual self, this stuck out even more. “-to see something from you that I didn’t.”

Something about the vagueness of the sentence combined with the pause made Ben feel wary. Though, that could also be his jumpiness getting the better of him.

“Okay then. I guess I’m sorry you didn’t see whatever it is you wanted to see?”

The dragon huffed. “You needn’t be.”

After their training session for the night was done, Kinsoriel went to rustle up some food. Boar was on the menu tonight. They ate and went to bed shortly after.

Benjamin hadn’t had any dreams of note since this whole thing had started. Tonight though, something peculiar popped up in it.

A large shadow hung overhead, looking down at him. He couldn’t move himself to see what had cast it, not even his eyes. Whatever it was got closer, making the shadow grow even larger. He could feel its breath now. But before anything else could happen, it left as suddenly as it appeared.

Outside of that, the night flew by and it was morning in no time. Waking up was about the same as it was in the prior days, with his demanding character ordering him awake. He did as he was asked, and they continued on once more.

A routine of sorts was beginning to take form between the both of them. This could be seen as both positive and negative, depending on how he looked at it.

For now, it would be better to look on the bright side of things. This routine would build trust, and with trust came the dragon’s ear. All he really needed to do was get him intertwined with Nela’s group, and the rest would sort itself out; hopefully.

Chapter 13: Meddling

Stromwell entered Benjamin’s study once again, closing the door behind him as he did. To his displeasure, his brother still wasn’t present. The bet was still on then.

He strode over to the desk, sitting himself in the simple leather chair beside it. Looking down at the black book, he curled his lip while reading the title. ‘Scaled Down: The Dragon’s New Perspective’. Bleh. Stromwell could scarcely imagine who would want their name attached to that. An exaggeration of course, but he really couldn’t get the appeal to a story like this.

A cursory look at his brother’s notes was all he needed to make his conclusion. Yet another trite story of unrealistic character growth and redemption. Contrivance after contrivance, all to make some sappy feel good ending even possible. Really, he’d be doing him a favor by showing him how a professional would do a story like this.

But before he could do any of that, he had to secure his win. It would take even more time out of his busy schedule, but he’d do it with minimal changes. This win had to be absolute, devoid of any accusations of unfair play.

Not only was his dignity on the line here, but the lesson he sought to teach as well. Benjamin, dullard as he is, would only focus on how he was cheated. He’d completely ignore how his loss was brought about by his own decisions and learn nothing. Tough love is always a balancing act; performed wrong and you do more harm than good.

That didn’t mean he would just stand by and watch however. Things were going too slow for comfort, so he decided he would speed up the process a tad bit. Manipulation was fair game as far as he was concerned.

Speaking of, it was high time he read up on the results of his little divulgence to that dragon fellow. Sure it may not have ended things just yet, but perhaps he had sewn the seeds for later.

He flipped through the pages of the book to where he had left off. Once there, he started reading.

“Flame Arch.” Benjamin said as he mimicked the spell he had been shown. Perfect.

“Well done, well done indeed!” Kinsoriel complimented as he circled around his pupil. Like a dutiful student, he continued keeping his attention on the spell. This flame was now his, or in other words, it was his creation. If it were to harm him, not only would he see if that rule was still working, but he would also be keeping his word. It took him a while to come up with this exact idea, but it would be worth it in a few moments.

Once he was sure that Benjamin couldn’t see him, he raised his claws up and pressed them together. Snap.

The effect was immediate. Like a startled prey animal, Benjamin jumped back a bit and produced a high pitched yelp. It seemed his control over the spell was slightly more than the dragon estimated he would have, staying airborne just long enough for it to miss. Kinsoriel grimaced with disappointment as he looked at his plan sputter out and die.

“What was that for?!” the jumpy little deathbound asked.

“I believe I already told you, didn’t I? Concentration. Magic will be useless to you if your foes can break your focus, and they will certainly try. Along with this, I also wanted-” Kinsoriel paused. How should he say this, both truthfully and not? Hmm… “-to see something from you that I didn’t.” That works.

Seeing his servant-to-be calm down confirmed he had worded it just right. “Okay then. I guess I’m sorry you didn’t see whatever it is you wanted to see?”

Something about getting an apology that was undeserved didn’t sit right with him. “You needn’t be.” he said, refusing the deathbound’s words.

Oh come on, is that all? Stromwell flipped forward another couple of pages to see if anything else had occurred. He read of the dragon’s late night encounter.

Looking down on the sleeping form of Benjamin, the dragon felt a compulsion. More than that, a raw need. He had to know whether or not he was still impervious.

He knelt closer. With a ‘shink’, he prepared his index claw. Draw blood, that’s all that was needed. There would be no mark once he finished; not even the gods would be the wiser. And could it even be called harm if it wouldn’t wake him?

The deathbound stirred, halting his hand. Kinsoriel grumbled. This was his fault. A servant should be forthcoming with their master. There shouldn’t be any need for a test like this, especially when he gave his word.

He stopped again, but the reason this time was an internal one. That’s right, he gave his word. That might not mean much to a mortal, but what did it mean to him? It meant he would uphold what he said at all costs. It was a way of life for all Dragons.

What was he even doing here? Dragons, real ones at least, followed their code. Was his curiosity really worth spitting in the face of those who came before him? His parents lived and died by these morals and values; who was he to even consider this? If he were to do this right now, he’d be no better than that orange bastard.

With a huff, he stepped away and returned to his slumber, for real this time. There were bound to be other opportunities, ones that didn’t require him to sully himself. Besides, he should be focusing on bringing that loathsome kobold of a dragon to justice anyway.

Oh for the love of, what was that? Just how much of an idealist did Ben make you?

He had to put the book down and take a moment to himself. With a flick of the wrist, he took out his treasured wood panel pen and started flipping it around his hand. It had taken longer than he would ever admit to become proficient, but it showed its worth in times like these. A pen trick here and there was usually just what he needed to keep his wits about him.

It shouldn’t be any surprise that the dragon barely budged to his temptation. If anything, Stromwell should have expected this from one of his brother’s main characters. That’s where he had miscalculated. Getting him to consider it was victory enough anyway; he could work with that later if needed.

But he needed something for the here and now. If he were Benjamin, how would he build someone up to be so stubbornly moralistic? First of all, he’d give them some dime a dozen ‘sad’ backstory. Can’t alter anything that’s already happened though, so what else. Well, there always seemed to be an ensemble surrounding his focus character.

Speaking of, didn’t he see one such group in his brother’s notes? He flipped back over to that section. A satisfied look found itself on Stromwell’s distinguished face. That’s it. The tower topples when the supports fail.

After putting his pen back in its rightful place, he flipped the book to the back. He touched both of his palms upon the ever changing index.

“Immerse.” He said with authority. In the blink of an eye, he vanished from the Infinite Library and delved into the world his brother had made. The city that he found himself in was your standard fantasy tripe. Stone this, stone that, vendors here, guilds there, and so on. While he could harp on the lack of creativity on display, he had neither the time nor the audience.

No matter, he had something more important at hand anyway. With the book as his guide, he made his way over to the heroes guild.

After going through the double doors, he looked around. All these background nobodies that populated this city filtered about as he looked. He paid them no mind, eyes peeled for a very particular character.

There. Sitting alone in the corner booth was his first target, Alister Gethrold. He had a long beard whose color had started fading, and purple hued eyes, reading from a tome with laser focus. And of course, a big pointy hat. Stromwell couldn’t for the life of him get why his brother insisted on the things.

Having found who he was looking for, Stromwell went over to the bathroom stalls. Not the most pleasant place to manifest, but it was without any nearby eyes. With a quick thought, he would now be visible to any others. He appropriated the tasteless style of those around him, now wearing the colorful gear of a messenger, complete with stupid hat. He also gave himself a little increase to his musculature; just to sell the look of course.

Once done, he exited the stalls and leisurely walked over to his target. Upon casting a shadow over him, he glanced up at Stromwell. “Can I help you?” he asked with a slight edge to his voice.

“Request for you sir.” Stromwell said with false enthusiasm. He put a hand into his bag, creating said request from nothing. Smiling as he pulled it out, he handed it to the man. With an annoyed expression, he broke the wax seal and began reading the letter within.

“Alright, let’s see here. ‘Mr. Gethrold’ yada yada yada, ‘services requested’, ‘bountiful rewards’, ‘sign on bonus’.” He looked back up to Stromwell with a raised eyebrow as he read the last part. “Sign on bonus eh?”

Fishing his hand back into the bag, he produced a pouch full of incentive. It was filled to the brim with gold that had not existed just seconds before. The pouch produced an audible thunk as it was dropped to the table. The man, Alister Gethrold as Ben had named him, stared at the pouch with bulging eyes.

“That’s… quite something isn’t it?” he said as he hefted the pouch in his hand, inspecting its contents carefully.

“Will you be accepting then?” Stromwell asked with his arms held behind his back.

After another few moments of ogling his newfound wealth, Alister nodded. “I’d have to be stark raving mad to turn something like this down.”

Giving a light bow, Stromwell asked one last question. “Will you be needing transport? I was told that you would be needed post haste.”

Alister waved his hand and grabbed his belongings. “Not today sonny. I’ve actually been there before if you’d believe it. Once I finish my arrangements here, I’ll be there faster than you can say ‘farewell’. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He started to walk off, before turning around and pulling something from one of his many pockets. “Oh, and this is for you my boy.”

He flipped a shiny copper coin over to Stromwell, who barely managed to catch it. The professional was slightly offended at the unimpressive gesture, but still bid the character goodbye.

Once nobody was looking, he made himself unperceivable once more, taking on his preferred appearance. One down, three to go.

Chapter 14: Unfortunate Timing

They had finally made it. Tesktar was within reach, and potentially smooth sailing from there.

Benjamin was prepared to enter a town this time. Alongside his magic lessons, he made a point of requesting more help with reading in the past couple of nights. As long as it was to further his goals, the dragon didn’t seem to mind devoting an additional hour to it. He also had money and more fitting clothing, which would certainly make him blend in better.

But before he could separate, a large hand was placed in front of him. “Tsk tsk, did I say you were to leave just yet?” Kinsoriel asked, waiting for an answer.

Suppressing the urge to express his annoyance, Benjamin faced his main character. “No, you didn’t, my bad.”

“You aren’t bad little servant-to-be,” the dragon corrected, “you are merely ignorant, and I can fix that. Pocket.” He raised the blocking hand and traced along the air, thrusting it into the opening after.

Ben couldn’t help but make a face at being called ignorant. Luckily, his “master” wasn’t looking his way as he did.

“There we are,” Kinsoriel said to himself as he pulled out a book, “this will do just fine.” Placing a claw to the cover, it began to glow with magical light. “Inanimate Senses.” As he said this, the glow burst outwards with a pop. Aside from the lightshow, nothing else seemed to happen.

“Take this with you.” Dropping the book into Benjamin’s waiting hands, he then shooed him off. “Now you may leave.”

Stupefied at what just happened, Ben asked “What was that spell for?”

“As you know, I won’t be going near deathbound nests. That spell will allow me to observe anything near the object it is used on, so keep it in view if you would.” He peered a bit closer and gave a more serious look. “I’d have to assume the worst if it suddenly went dark after all.”

Unsubtle hint taken. With the book in hand, Benjamin separated and started to venture towards Tesktar.

They could afford to get a bit closer since it was on the smaller end of towns, especially when compared to Ferroes. That meant only half an hour of solo walking this time around.

Crossing the threshold of the forest, the outer walls came into view. It shared many of the same general structures he saw previously, but less grand overall. Smaller ramparts, less traffic, fewer attractions. None of that mattered however.

This place would be home to Alister in the regular events of the story, who would be the last addition to the party. Getting him now might be breaking the script some, but it was his best bet to get Kinsoriel interacting with Nela’s group. He’d also be the one to eventually help fix Kinsoriel’s ‘curse’, so it wasn’t like he was lying to the dragon either.

Thinking about lying and his main character together made Ben absentmindedly glance down at the book. It was titled ‘Divines, Watch Over Me’, and had symbols of the pantheon emblazoned into the cover. In the middle of them was a dragon eye. This portion in particular was unnerving, given what he knew of the book’s purpose. He decided to look away so as to not draw attention. His mind may have been playing tricks on him, because he could almost swear he saw the eye blink as he looked away.

Luckily for him, he would soon be occupying his thoughts with something other than another unseen observer. The gate guards gave him no trouble this time around. Whether due to the town’s smaller size or because he had a more appropriate look, he didn’t know.

Making his way to the heroes guild, Benjamin fought the urge to do any shopping. While he now had the money to actually buy something, his actions being monitored meant he was still on the clock, so to speak. An ever present frown sat on his brow, strengthened by every shop window he passed.
Imposed frugality aside, he was soon at the entrance of the guild. His average at best arms strained to open the heavy doors, though they eventually gave way, allowing him to step in.

The place was more akin to the tavern of an inn than a place of business. There were plenty of groups here and there happily drinking ale and talking amongst themselves. At least this casual atmosphere would help keep a low profile.

Going up to one of the registrars as naturally as he could, Ben gave a smile. “Hello miss, I’m looking for someone.”

The one he came up to, a middle aged woman with more wrinkles than she should really have, didn’t look pleased. “Please take any requests to the quest arranger over there.” She pointed a finger to her right at a younger woman, who had a long line going.

“Let me rephrase that then. I’m looking for someone in particular, Alister Gethrold.”

The registrar nodded with a slightly more engaged attitude, kneeling down to pick up something from behind the counter. With a bit of effort, she hefted a large register out, flipping between the pages.

“Gethrold?” she asked to confirm, simultaneously putting on a pair of reading glasses. Benjamin nodded. Going down the list of names in the Ge- section, she eventually stopped on an entry.

“Alister Gethrold, senior researcher,” she looked back up to Benjamin, “put in a transfer yesterday afternoon.”

What? “I’m sorry, but could you repeat that?”

Benjamin felt himself start to clench at the book as those same words fell from the Registrar’s mouth. “Mr. Gethrold transferred out yesterday.” Kinsoriel wasn’t going to like this…

“D-does it say where he transferred?” Benjamin asked, hoping for a break.

Without skipping a beat, she dropped another bombshell on him. “Nothing specific yet, it just says ‘the continent of Dewn’. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Oh, Kinsoriel really wasn’t going to like this. “No, that’ll do it for me. Have a nice rest of your day, miss.”

Left with nothing to show after nearly a week of traveling, Benjamin didn’t look forward to what would be waiting for him when he got back. A lingering dread followed him as he started his return. The book nestled underneath his arm felt heavy.

There was some time to think of what he would say before he was in front of the dragon. He passed the gates. He tread the trail. He walked, and he walked. There’s his main character; and he still didn’t have the slightest idea of what he should say.

But instead of the blistering fury he had expected, Kinsoriel was calm. Eerily so.

Not sure of how to start, Benjamin stepped forward and presented the book he had been given. It was picked up gingerly by the dragon’s claws, getting stowed away in the Pocket spell a moment later. An uncomfortable feeling permeated the air between them.

“You heard what she said, right?” Benjamin finally managed to squeeze out.

Kinsoriel sighed heavily, saying, “Yes, I did.”

“And you aren’t mad about that?”

The dragon grumbled for a moment. “I never said anything of the sort. This journey continues even further, and it frustrates me to no end. But,” he then unfurled his wings majestically, “I find it best to look on the brighter side of things.”

The membrane of his wings had fully healed, leaving behind no scars or blemishes. It was as if they had never been damaged in the first place. Their owner beamed as Benjamin looked on.

“Whoa, your wings,” the ex-author marveled at the sight, “they’ve already healed?”

“Indeed they have,” Kinsoriel said as he flexed them around, “and I hope you grasp what that means.”

Ben could guess what was implied, but had the answer given to him in case he didn’t. Kinsoriel’s hand laid open upon the ground, waiting for him. A knot started forming in his stomach, but he stepped forward anyway. This earned him an appreciative chuff from above.

“See? There’s improvement already. You’ll be fit to serve me in no time.”

With those words, the claws closed around Benjamin securely. “Dewn will be a longer trip, so try not to faint.”

Wind scattered before the powerful beats of his wings, kicking up dust and debris aplenty. They slowly lifted up higher and higher from the ground. Once at a high enough altitude, Kinsoriel took off, slower this time around. Maybe his wings weren’t completely ready just yet.

There weren’t any complaints from Benjamin though. The wind chill was much easier to deal with this way anyhow.

Land passed by quickly beneath them. A few more towns here and there, and soon the coastline was in sight. Next stop, Dewn.

Chapter 15: Mean Green

How liberating it was to touch the sky once again. Kinsoriel took a deep breath, savoring the slightly salty taste it held. Being forced to walk for days on end had only made flying feel that much better. Each flap of his wings widened his grin a bit more.

“How much longer will it be?” Benjamin called up to him, trying to outdo the interference of the wind.

He raised the deathbound up to speaking level. “We are about halfway now.”

Even with the wind hampering his hearing, Kinsoriel could still pick up the groan his servant uttered. He rolled his eyes. If they had been going at a real speed, they might be there already. But if he were to do that, the mortal in his hands would keel over from the chill. So many problems for the dragon, created by another’s weaknesses.

He didn’t mind going a bit slower though. Any excuse to fly some more was a welcome one to him.

A few minutes passed by, and something started to feel amiss. The warmth of the air disappeared without warning, and the clouds began to darken. Wind sheared around him, making flight harder by the second. By the time the first droplet of water hit his scales, he knew what was coming; a tropical storm.

“What’s going on?!” he barely heard over roaring winds. With a threat like this looming over them, Kinsoriel ignored the question, instead searching for a place to land.

They seemed to be over an archipelago, but few of the islands offered any cover whatsoever. The largest of them was likely to be their best bet. Going as fast as he could while maintaining control, Kinsoriel sped towards the island.

Sand flew up into the air as he touched down. The landing wasn’t very elegant, but it was a mostly safe one. Once at a complete stop, he set down Benjamin- who had gone into a coughing fit from the airborne sand- and began scouting out the most secure area. The palm trees and foliage inward were being blown around like nothing, so those were out. There was a mountain-like cliff area, but flying around it to find a spot could be dangerous. Spotting what looked to be a large seaside cave close by, he pointed to it.

“Over there! Follow me!” he yelled as he bounded towards shelter. It sounded like Benjamin said something, but he couldn’t make it out. The storm was in full effect now, producing claps of thunder and jagged lightning. All of it together was heavily disorienting, but the dragon persisted.

Once he had made it to the edge of the cave, he craned his head back. Though the storm wasn’t helping in the slightest, there wasn’t any sight of the little author.

“Deathbound!?” He shouted out across the beach, “Where are you?” No response.

He started to get angry. “If you don’t show yourself in the next five seconds, there WILL be consequences!” Still nothing. Snarling, he tried one last time at the top of his lungs. “BENJAMIN!” Only the wind said anything back.

Was his servant really this much of a weakling? Was it possible that he got blown away? Ugh, of course it was. As easy as it would be to just relax in the cave and wait for the storm to pass, he’d rather not have his student go missing. Sighing heavily, Kinsoriel began backtracking.

It was hard to see anything at all between the darkened sky and sheets of rain. He couldn’t smell anything either, his snout was being overwhelmed by the scents of salty water and ozone.

He continued, looking around for what must have been a good half hour. He found nothing for his efforts except waterlogged sand and uprooted plants. As time went on, it was looking more and more like his teaching days were already over. But as luck would have it, the storm started to pass by.

With his sight and smell returning, he resumed his search in earnest. He soon found his servant’s tracks, which were already starting to get covered up. Tracing them as best as he was able, they at a point had stopped suddenly.

His first thought was his initial fear; the scrawny mortal had up and blown away. The winds were powerful enough to give even him difficulty after all. But upon sniffing around those last steps, he realized it was much worse; the scent of another dragon.

---

Clack, clack, clack. Benjamin strummed the wooden bars of his cage with one of the sticks he had lying around him. He could probably get himself out of it with one of the spells he’d been taught, but the presence of his captor hampered that idea.

“Would you stop that?” the unknown dragon demanded with a hiss. Sighing, Benjamin put the stick back on the ground.

How did this even happen? One moment he’s trying not to die from all the sand inviting itself into his lungs. The next, this bozo has him in this little jail that looks like it was made in arts and crafts.

Aside from the cage, everything in this cavern looked decently nice; if you were a nautical enthusiast that is. There were decorations strewn about that would make you think you stepped into a seafood restaurant. Captain's wheels, figureheads, and even treasure chests.

His belongings were placed by those same treasure chests, away from the entrance. At least he'd been allowed to keep his attire.

“Do you have a name?” Benjamin asked, trying to get his captor to open up.

“Of course I have a name, trespasser.” He responded while fanning the flames under a giant cauldron with a palm leaf. Oh… that can’t be good.

“And what would that be?” Benjamin prodded further, leaning against the bars.

Grunting, it turned around and plodded over to the cage, giving him his first clear view. He looked to be larger than Kinsoriel by about another couple of feet, though smaller than his true size. The horns that adorned the top of his head looked like those of a bull, ready to gore at any moment. Those claws seemed fit to tunnel through earth rather than kill, but were still imposing from the sheer size. He had those same ‘dragony’ eyes, just in blue.

His scales were a dark shade of green, which meant that this dragon was likely devoted to Isdri. Benjamin wished he had given himself more than just the mythology so he could know what scale color really meant, but this was the most he had to go off of.

He glared down at Benjamin, revealing a set of teeth that looked wicked sharp. “I don’t share my name with my food, deathbound.” Ben cringed on the inside as his fears were confirmed. The green dragon then picked up the cage from the top, bringing it towards the cauldron.

“W-wait!” Benjamin shouted up trying to get the dragon’s attention.

“What now?” he complained as he stopped, lifting the cage up to his eyes.

“If you eat me,” Benjamin pleaded, “you’ll make my master very mad!”

This softened the green dragon’s face a bit, eliciting a laugh. “Oh no, my next meal will come to me! Whatever will I do?”

Getting more annoyed than fearful, Benjamin corrected him. “My master is also a dragon you know!”

The green dragon stopped laughing, instead looking back at Benjamin intently. “Repeat yourself.” Benjamin did so, being watched the entire way through this time. After he finished, the dragon sniffed at the cage. “Hmm… So you speak the truth.”

The glimmer of hope he had fizzled out when the dragon started walking again. “What are you doing!?” he asked frantically.

“I’m still hungry now.” The dragon then put a claw to his chin in contemplation. “Maybe I’ll save your master a serving, show there aren’t any hard feelings between us.”

If he didn’t do anything right now, he’d be kissing this world goodbye in both ways. Think, what to do. Eugh, the heat from that cauldron was reaching even over here. He could scarcely think with the hot air smacking him in the face. What he wouldn’t give to cool down at a time like this. Wait, cool down.

Doing his best to remain calm and focused, Benjamin clasped his hands together. Singular point, ball of ice between the hands, shoot. That’s what he needs right now. He started drawing his mana into his hands, keeping his mental image clear. He’d have to thank Kinsoriel later for helping him practice his E.K., but now it was time for action. Once the orb grew enough to fill his hands, he shouted “Ice Beam!” and fired it straight at the cauldron.

It had finished its purpose within moments, freezing the iron and its contents solid. Benjamin let his arms down with a breath of ease, still feeling a slight tingling in his fingers.

“What?!” the green dragon exclaimed at the now frozen cauldron, letting the cage fall from his hands. Benjamin fell to his back as it hit the floor. When he sat himself back up, he saw his would-be devourer tapping at the now solid water. Angrily, he looked back to Benjamin. “Were you hiding a grimoire from me!? Where is it?”

As the green dragon started inspecting Benjamin from all sides, he noticed a shadow appear at the mouth of the cave. “There you are.” came a familiar voice.

The green dragon turned his head to the cave mouth just in time to see Kinsoriel walk in. “Who are you?” the green dragon spat.

“I am Kinsoriel, son of Ortremel,” he said in regal fashion, “to whom do I speak?”

Upon hearing this, the green dragon bowed his head respectfully. “Seigill. I apologize for any rudeness, elder one,” he gestured to the cage, “my meal has been giving me issues as you can see.”

Benjamin flailed his arms and shouted in an attempt to get attention. “Kinsoriel! I’m over here!”

The black dragon closed his eyes and placed a hand above his brow. “Yes little servant, I know that already.”

With a suspicious look about him, Seigill pointed a claw at Kinsoriel. “This deathbound… is your servant?” When he confirmed this with a nod, the green dragon started to raise his voice. “It would be one thing if it was a youngling, but why would the son of Ortremel ever humor this?!”

Baring his teeth alongside a growl, Kinsoriel replied, “My reasons have no part in this, I’m only here to take back what’s mine.”

Seigill’s face once again reverts to that of anger. “I’ve protected these islands from their ilk for decades, met their destruction with my own, and my elder strolls in to save one!”

They both looked at each other with an intensity that even Benjamin managed to feel. “I ask this only once,” Kinsoriel said as he continued to stare down the green dragon, “will you give back my mortal willingly?”

Without any hesitation, Seigill said “I will not.”

After hearing this, Kinsoriel sighed and untensed himself. “Very well.” Before Benjamin could begin to panic, his main character continued. “I challenge you for the right of ownership.”

Seigill followed suit, also untensing. “All over a single deathbound.” With an indignant huff, he said, “I accept your challenge.”

Both in agreement, Seigill picked up Benjamin’s cage and followed Kinsoriel out of the cave. Now outside, Benjamin could finally see where he had been taken. They were above what seemed to be a cliff, surrounded below by the remains of numerous ships. Cargo from them bobbed up and down against the tide.

They flew out from the perilous terrain and went to a more stable rockface. Once there, Benjamin’s cage was put down a distance away from the two dragons. As they both squared up to each other, Benjamin gripped at the bars, muttering to himself. “Please, don’t lose.”