Magma Dragon's Heir

75th of Season of Fire, 59th year of the 32nd cycle

Newt fell on his ass, gasping for breath. Magmin's grandson had done something, controlled the world in some way that made it impossible for Stronggrow to notice them or their hissed conversation. But with the snake's disappearance and the unexpected fall, the old man turned to look at Newt.

"Newstar, you're soaked." Stronggrow placed a worried hand on Newt's shoulder, the soggy, sweaty shirt sticking to Newt's skin.

"I'm fine," Newt lied and sent a trickle of heat through his body, drying his skin and clothes. "The dragon scared me."

Stronggrow nodded slowly, but said nothing. He had never seen his young patriarch so shaken.

Following the incident, days passed. The battles with the saurians grew more difficult as the number of beasts who dared approach the castle increased. While some tried to evolve by devouring the awakened humans, carnage between manabeasts happened every hour, if not more frequently.

The hordes of second realm monsters clashed, fueling the growth of survivors. Unlike humans, the manabeasts either didn't suffer from heart demons or they resolved them some other way, since every single saurian was keen on growing and evolving.

The forces inside the castle watched, and when needed, fought off immediate threats. Newt kept quiet about his conversation with the dragon. All their effort, all their lives, were simply a whim of an eccentric shape-shifter.

Then, suddenly, a moon and a half after it had started, the onslaught ended.

The saurians simply stopped coming out of the jungle. Blood and gore soaked the ground, making it a breeding ground of filth and disease, yet also fertilizing it and preparing the land for the jungle's return.

Newt surveyed the devastated landscape with Stronggrow. They leaned against the same tower wall, mere feet from where Magmin's grandson had appeared. Stronggrow seemed unaware of the ruined window, or perhaps he thought it the work of time or some other damage.

"Don't look so devastated," the old man assured the youth. "We will clear out the corpses and rebuild. The crops next year will be greater than in the previous years. At least for those farmers who had taken refuge within our walls."

Newt nodded, not sure what to say. A lot of people had died. A number so staggering he couldn't even imagine it. Hundreds or thousands of towns were razed. Hailstown too must have suffered an attack, for Brightscale was headed in their direction.

What did that mean for Dandelion? Did he survive? What about Jasmine? Or even Dandelion's son Bravesoul?

I'll ask Lord Flameax if we can stop by and check on them.

"Newstar," Lord Flameax flew over as if summoned, "do you have any other immediate duties as your clan's patriarch or are we free to depart?"

The man shifted his gaze towards Stronggrow, who shook his head.

"The work left is beneath the patriarch's notice, save for the administrative duties, which our student shirks with zest."

Lord Flameax smirked. "In that case, we shall aid his escape."

The two men were relaxed, amused, and confident, yet they stood so close to the crumbled stone windowsill.

While the Explorer's Gate party prepared to leave, their Salamandra hosts gathered around their ship.

"Thank you for your grace." They all bowed deeply, led by Stronggrow and Marrow.

Newt felt weird, since those people were also bowing to him, which didn't make sense in his head. Fortunately, the airship took to the air, and Newt's clansmen disappeared from view.

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"Do you mind if we make a stop at Hailstown?" Newt asked Lord Flameax, who nodded, and went to instruct Lord Arrow, their captain.

The airship stayed low, barely two hundred yards above ground, letting the students look out the windows and take in the scene of destruction. A mile-wide road of earth so trampled it might have become rock led north, towards Hailstown.

Newt knew of several villages along the way, and had visited them, but there was nothing left of the buildings, save for the slightly different color of stomped earth where some of the buildings stood.

After half an hour of relaxed, low-speed flight, they reached Hailstown, or at least the location Newt assumed was once Hailstown. The city was gone. Its mighty walls were scorched, scattered rocks dotting the landscape, its houses little more than ash-smeared rubble. There was not a living soul anywhere in sight.

Newt watched the scene in disbelief, too numb to say or feel anything. A hand landed on his shoulder, and he jerked around, coming face to face with Rose.

"Did you have friends here?"

Newt nodded. "I think Dandelion came to protect this place."

Rose looked out at the irregular, vaguely circular area of flattened rubble.

"Maybe they escaped?"

With their enhanced senses, both of them saw arms and legs still sticking out from between the rocks, the non-awakened humans not at all interesting to awakened saurians. The people of Hailstown didn't escape. Certainly, there weren't as many corpses visible, but still, there were hundreds, and countless more must have been buried in the wreckage.

"There's nothing we can do for them," Flameax said. "We should head back to the order, and focus on our duties there."

Just like that? Newt stared out the window with a hollow look. He died, and I can't even bury him? Can't even find a trace of his body?

Newt's already shaken heart quivered once more. He drew a deep breath and went to meditate. He closed his eyes, but instead of entering his realm, he focused on something else. A heart demon was close to forming. Magmin's grandson had shaken his faith in himself. He was alive because the danger had allowed him to be.

I will be stronger one day. I will be so strong no dragon would dare challenge me, let alone allow me to live because I was an interesting oddity.

But another thought started plaguing him. What of Dandelion?

He was surprised that in his heart, Jasmine's fate mattered little. She had made her choices, and she had to live with them or possibly die because of them, but he had a true friend whose loss would hurt. Newt was too busy to cope with the deaths of Obi and Jas, but the onslaught had ended, and those thoughts also came. They crashed into him like that fire drake had smashed through houses and fences, and Newt feared the pain and grief would break him.

I was too weak to protect them. He drew a calming breath. But I protected my clan. No, I didn't. A dragon spared us because of its own plans.

Newt grit his teeth and fought the negative thought. Does it matter how I protect those I care for? Intimidation, reputation, strength, or physical involvement. If the result is the same, does the process matter?

It shouldn't, but it mattered to Newt. Volcano. I'm a volcano. Lava rolling down the slope. Sometimes lava consumes, sometimes it flows around, and sometimes it pools until it whittles whatever's stopping it or until it overflows and eventually continues its path down.

I need to be like lava. Persist, follow my nature, and eventually triumph.

Newt's thinking wasn't a solution to his problem; it was a distraction, but a welcome and necessary one. If he allowed himself to spiral down the abyss of fear and guilt and shame, it would be the end of his path. The heart demon formed by something he considered an omnipotent dragon would either possess him one day, or it would forever halt Newt's advancement.

He imagined himself as lava encountering the dreaded magmin serpent. Lava hit it with all its force, but it didn't even shake it. So, lava flowed around, and the snake moved down the hill. The lava was stronger, but the snake was inviolable. The scene repeated, again and again, until lava could finally shake the snake, forcing it to retreat.

The next time the snake tried to stop the lava, the molten rock swallowed it and consumed its strength, adding it to its own flow.

One day, I will be strong enough to ignore that snake. Not today, not in a hundred years, but one day, I will be that strong.

Newt focused on the snake. The insurmountable power of today was something to strive for, not something to fear and despair over. Newt didn't know it for sure, but he had a feeling the gatemaster could strangle the snake like a harmless little critter. And Newt planned on reaching the gatemaster's level one day.

As for the deaths and destruction that had happened - Newt couldn't do anything about them. The best he could do was ensure it wouldn't happen again. And to do that meant breaking the cycle of humans infringing on the saurian jungle and the saurians lashing out, turning the human lands into wastelands of corpses and destruction.

Could anyone even do something like that? Newt didn't know, but even if unrealistic, it seemed like a worthwhile goal.