“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 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 leaped 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 lying 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 on 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 sure this is going to work, right?”

Willow lightly punched him.

“Have some faith! He can’t do his duty 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 spellcraft, 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 its 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 is broken, it would make for excellent bait, luring the rest of them to their well-earned demise. A terrific plan that 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 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 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 onto 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. 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 dared to approach him.

“Are you done having your little tantrum then? I’ll tell you if you really want to know, but you need to promise 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. Make this promise, and he would never get the chance. 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 on 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.”