As our heroes continued their struggle to liberate Tragoria, letâs go back to Main and see how things went on with the former light dragons.
One week usually felt like a trivial time for them. In fact, it was relatively negligible, at least in the Void between Realities. They could easily travel back in time, or even forward, all without any complications or any concerns to their health.
However, that was all in the past. They were no longer that being. They were simplyâ¦there.
They were mortals.
Seraphor had not felt something like a linear progression of time in a very long time. His captivity in Qeveriyt, along with the process of turning him into a new Source, felt like an eternity. Was it a hundred year? A thousand? Hundreds of thousands? He wasnât sure. What he was sure about was the state of Qeveriyt itself. Unlike him, the trapped city and its denizens devolved after so many years. They became mutated, no longer what they were before they were taken out of time. Seraphor could only watch as the normal people of Earth slowly became grotesque parodies of their former selves, a horrific sight that happened slowly and painfully.
Was it the light dragonsâ way to torment him? There was no way to find out now.
The Thread was cut. He was no longer with the Source. In fact, he was no longer a light dragon, based on what his friend told him.
âThe healers concluded that youâre not any different from the other dragons,â said Alverian after Seraphor asked about the results. âAshaire, too, is a dragonborn much like Mr. Long.â
âSo, Iâm just a normal dragon?â asked Seraphor.
âThere is one thing that makes the three of you different, and that is your magic. Your magical element is light. Pure light. My mentor once told me of the legendary element of light that is said to be the raw form of magic. That raw form of magic is, as you know it, mana particles. And, given what we knew from the recent invasion, light magic isâ¦â
âThe same with Aetherium,â concluded Seraphor.
âNo, not exactly. Only on a certain wavelength,â said Alverian. âWhich is impossible to achieve because, well, youâll have to destroy your own body to reach that point. Also, light magic is harmless, but on the right hands, it is as devastating as other elements. I think you are capable of that.â
âYeah, well, nobodyâs going to like me using the same thing that harmed them.â
âIs that how you disguise yourself as a fire dragon? Disguising it as a sun-based magic?â
Seraphor chuckled. âGuilty as charged.â
âAnd you fooled me for years,â said Alverian with a smile. âAnd to think I spend my time researching on how you donât show any trace of magic even though dragons are magical creatures.â
Seraphor silently let out a toothy grin out of his draconic face before he tried to raise his body. He let out a disappointed sigh as he realized that half of his body was still paralyzed. With his wings reduced to its digits with no indication that he could grow new wing membranes, he had no mobility left. He could easily teleport, but that would not look great on the people who were still traumatized by the recent attacks. He could try and use his enduring reputation to get around that stigma, but he had a feeling that it might backfire.
The thought of recent attacks made him turn to Ashaire, who was still in a coma ever since they escaped the Altered Reality that was Seraphorâs prison. While the dragonborn attacked Dracokin to keep up the façade of being a light dragon, Seraphor was worried that his old friend did it a bit too well.
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âAlve,â started Seraphor. âHow bad was the damage Ashaire did to Dracokin?â
âNot as bad as the first light dragon,â said Alverian. âIf youâre talking about casualties, there were injuries, but deaths were surprisingly low. The soldiers he attacked in the barracks had head injuries, but they werenât fatal. Sure, they fell into a coma for a week, but they woke up afterwards. The dragons he attacked sustained bruises and broken ribs, but not dead. The worst he did was levelling the spires and buildings due to Mr. Longâs intervention.â
âSo, heâs clear on that regard?â
âNot if you include the buildings. Property destruction is still a crime, you know. Also, deaths were low, but not zero. The judge is still deliberating on that, which might take a while since heâs in no condition to stand trial.â
âOr if he ever going to wake up.â Seraphor sighed again. âAlve.â
âYes, my friend?â
âIf there is anything I can do to fix all this, Iâll do it. Zenithiaâs a bit busy with her new friends, so Iâll try my best toââ
âYou canât do anything with your situation,â said Alverian. âIf what youâre planning is to fix the buildings. Althoughâ¦there is something you might be able to help us with. Are you familiar with the term âprimal magicâ?â
âLike ancient magic?â
âMore like the purest form of magic. I believe youâve met Azureath.â
Seraphor remembered the azure dragon being one of his saviors and Zenithiaâs new friends. She was accompanying the Ternorians in retaking their land.
âIâm not sure if youâve ever seen her in action, but Azureathâs draconic magic is primal magic. She does not unleash ice breath, but instead, she uses her claws.â
âIsnât that normal?â
âNot for dragons of this reality. The former mage king of Nolingrod sent me a letter detailing his experience with her and the revelation that she was a Daughter of the Eternal Frost. That legend is elven in origin, but instead, a dragon inherited that title. The Eternal Frost is a form of primal magic.â
âAnd youâre telling me about this becauseâ¦?â
âWell, your light magic is primal. Not sure how, not sure why, but Zenithia is the proof we need. A primal magicâs common feature is that the magic manipulates the way nature works. Azureathâs ice is caused by her temperature manipulation. Zenithia changes form and teleport using light. She explained that it is some sort ofâ¦particle dispersal or something like that. In any case, we decided to classify it as primal magic since it manipulates the nature in an unprecedented way.â
âSo, you need me. Again, becauseâ¦?â
âBecause of the legend.â Alverianâs expression turned serious. âIt turns out light dragons are the least of our worries.â
âWhat can be worse than light dragons destroying realities?â
âNot that bad, of course, but it still concerns this world. Elves live long enough to know that cataclysmic events are inevitable. The return of primal magic is concerning.â
Seraphor nodded, though he wasnât sure if he should be concerned with it, even though he should. He was no longer a dweller of the Void. He was a white-scaled dragon of Earth. He could be killed, and that would be it. No returning to the Thread. No other Earths or Terras he could settle in. If the apocalypse happened, that would be it for the world.
He started to think about permanent death and what Avila would do once that happened. As a dragon, he still had a long way to go, but when it happenedâ¦. He shook his head. He had no desire to die just yet. In fact, Avila would be mad that he would throw away his chance of living his life to the fullest.
And from those thoughts, he became convinced that maybe this was his path to redemption on behalf of Ashaire and the damage caused by the light dragons. He chose this reality because he had a certain attachment, and now, with his attachment being permanent, it became his duty to defend the world.
So, with these thoughts, he said, âWell, I donât have anything better to do, soâ¦what do you need?â
Alverian let out a satisfied smile. âLater, Sera. Rest for now. You have been through a lot, arguably more than everyone ever will.â
As the elven grand mage walked out of the open-air room, he stopped near the door and said, âItâs good to have you back, my friend.â
âLikewise,â said Seraphor. Alverian nodded, then walked out of the room, leaving Seraphor and Ashaire alone. The former light dragon felt that he should try and relax, now that he was no longer in danger.
However, he wondered if he could ever have a peaceful life in a relatively short lifespan. He was an immortal being that could not die even if he wanted to. Even when a light dragon became a new Source, they were still aware of what they once were.
âWill it be enough?â Seraphor mused. He wasnât sure of the answer. His new life was relatively short, and he planned to enjoy it to the fullest.
Only time would tell. Until then, he only hoped Avila would be there.