The Forsaken Hero

The wall of fire swelled like a tsunami, swelling a hundred feet in either direction. Plumes of fire cascaded before the wall, winding like serpents around houses, trees, and fallen corpses, reducing everything they touched to ash. Billowing waves of heat bore before it all, lighting countless fires in the brush long before the brunt of the spell arrived.

The spell’s strength transcended the peak of fifth level, as far into the depths of sixth as possible without technically breaching the border. It was a true masterpiece of magic, possessing the skill and refinement of many of my modified spells. Had this terrible power not been directed at me, I would have loved to watch and study the flow of mana, for there was surely much to learn.

Unfortunately, there was little time to consider the objective beauty and skill of the spell. Had Fable been at full strength, he might have been able to avoid it, but his side was torn from flank to shoulder. Life magic crawled over his wounds, slowly healing his flesh, but there was no time. This spell held the strength of a sixth-circle spell, yet I was forced to confront it.

I squandered one of the few precious moments remaining with a deep breath, closing my eyes and soothing my trembling tail. My heart thudded in my chest, yet I willed myself to be calm, soothing the fear until only excitement remained. I was dimly aware of Fable’s head beneath my hand, soft and warm, filled with trust. Our souls fully connected in that instant, and a mysterious, yet familiar power flowed into me.

The moment my heart stilled, my eyes flashed open, filled with a storm of glistening stars. The world crawled by in slow motion, the descending storm of fire shining with a light not even the Eyes of Fate had revealed. Every rune, circle, and weave of mana was sharp and clear, their past, future, and present paths all playing out at the same time. Behind the wall, I found the swirling mass of chaos that could only be Gayron’s soul, the epicenter of light and power of the breathtaking sight before me.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was aware of my mana draining away at a tremendous rate, but as I continued to watch the unfolding display of mana, all I felt was awe and wonder. Fable had granted me hints of the stars behind reality, yet now the curtains of Fate were drawn, the secrets of truth and eternity laid bare.

I pointed my staff at the oncoming cascade of flames, purposeful yet unhurried. Falling into a trance-like state of concentration, I shaped dozens of threads of mana, delicately weaving the runes of a third-circle spell. My soul was weakening, the last of my mana trickling away, yet there was enough.

Rune by rune, three magic circles materialized before my staff, spaced about an inch apart each. They spun lazily, trapped in the same state as the rest of the world, small and insignificant against the peak fifth-level spell. Withdrawing my staff, I left them hovering in the air and stepped back, a small, satisfied smile on my face.

"Dispel Magic."