The Forsaken Hero

"Would you like me to carry you?"

I shook my head, rejecting Fyren’s offer for the third time. As much as I yearned to give in and relax in his arms, this mountain, and the dragon beyond, was something I was determined to face on my own.

But sheer willpower only carried me so far. Long before we reached the peak, where the magic circle continued to turn, my legs shook, threatening to collapse. The endless slog through the marshes and up the mountain had drained my strength almost entirely, and I was rapidly losing that which remained.

Several paces ahead, Soltair and Trithe spoke in hushed tones, reviewing their strategies and training from the last several weeks. Despite their outward confidence, their hands often rested on their sword hilts or clenched anxiously at their sides.

The mountain we climbed was part of a much more extensive range, forming the tip of a ridge on the eastern side of the slopes. Further west, the true giants jutted into the sky, marking the boundary between the Kingdom of Radia and the Cerxov Empire.

At long last, we reached the beginnings of the rocky cliffs marking the peak. I stopped, gasping for breath, and looked out into the sky, where the magic circle hovered. It was so close yet lazily spun just out of reach. Many of the runes were unfamiliar but emanated a terrifying amount of mana.

"Here?" Soltair asked, curiously waiting patiently as I examined the circle.

"Yeah. The dragon’s lair should be around here somewhere. Sustaining a magic circle this large requires an immense amount of mana, and transmitting that over long distances would create far too much waste. So-"

"Thanks," Soltair interrupted me and turned to the nearest cliff face. "Now, to find the boss roo-er, I mean dragon’s lair."

While the Sun Hero ran around, knocking on rocks and frozen trees, I collapsed onto a nearby stump, my head slumping.

Fyren squatted beside me, resting on his heels. "You should have let me carry you. Didn’t I tell you not to push yourself?"