Flames danced upon a wooden frame, the heat they gave off intense enough to make Rowan recoil backwards. However, his body would not listen to him, remaining firmly planted where it lay in the middle of the inferno.

Beyond the flames, shouts could be heard, along with the faint sound of steel on steel. People were doing battle, Rowan realized, opening his mouth to cry out for help. Instead of the loud shout he sought to produce, however, all that emerged was a mewling cry, like a baby whose vocal cords had gone hoarse from overuse. Again he attempted to call for help, and again all that emerged was a faint cry, barely audible over the crackling of the flames.

I’m going to die. At this realization, panic began to set in. The flames danced closer, a section of the wooden frame that surrounded him breaking off and falling to the ground below in a cloud of smoke and sparks. Stray embers were strewn across the floor, igniting several smaller fires, all contributing to the blaze that now burned all around him.

Doing his best not to breathe in the smoke, Rowan attempted to remain calm, but it was impossible. Without the ability to move, or make himself heard, there was no way for him to escape this fiery hell. He would die here, alone, just as he had always been, just like he had done before.

A coughing fit overcame him, breaking him from his thoughts as the smoke washed over him. There wasn’t much time left before he died, whether that be from smoke inhalation or the encroaching flames, it didn’t matter. Both routes led to death.

His vision growing hazy, Rowan slowly succumbed to the lack of oxygen, his lungs filling with smoke and superheated air, neither of which were conducive to life. As his eyes fluttered shut, a blur of movement shot through the smoke, a giant of a man appearing in front of him and snatching him from the smoke.

Barely conscious, Rowan could just make out a few of the man’s features. Apart from his enormous size, for he carried Rowan as if he weighed nothing at all, and cradled his entire body in just a single arm, the other part of him that stood out was his eyes, both glowing with a powerful amber light as he dashed through the fire and flames.

He appeared to be in his late twenties, though the lines around his eyes spoke of a life lived that had aged him far beyond his years. A sword hung on his left side, and his clothes, though now tattered, had once been of splendid make and design. Although he had never seen the man before, Rowan felt safe in his arms, his eyes closing slightly as fatigue washed over him, the effects of the smoke still present in his body.

A droplet splashing onto Rowan’s face brought him back to wakefulness, however, it was not rain, but blood. The man was injured, badly, his left arm hanging uselessly as he carried Rowan with his right. Small cuts lined his face, and tufts were missing from what was otherwise a fairly well kept beard, considering the situation they found themselves in. Whatever it was the man had been through, his opposition had not gone easy on him.

Glancing down at Rowan, the man’s eyes met his. As they did, the worry within transformed into a reassuring glance. His mouth opened, but Rowan could not make out the words, his hearing seemingly vanished. Despite his lack of hearing, Rowan could tell that the man’s words were meant to be kind, his expression a mixture of concern and distress, though he did his best to hide the distress as the glow around his eyes dissipated slightly to reveal a pair of dark green eyes that stared kindly down at Rowan.

Around them, the flames had vanished, replaced by outcrops of stone and small, twisted trees that strained to reach the sky. The surroundings evoked a feeling of familiarity in Rowan, but not of a good sort. Rather than nostalgia, what Rowan felt as his gaze landed upon the small trees and scrub that filled the terrain was a sense of impending dread.

As if to reward his conclusion, Rowan’s world was jerked suddenly and abruptly to the side, the man evading as a streak of crimson fire flew over his right shoulder. Sticking low to the ground, he dodged a bolt of emerald light, his lips moving silently as he stared fiercely ahead.

The amber glow returned, shrouding the man’s eyes as he forced his left arm up, the strain causing beads of sweat to drip down his brow, mixing with the bloody cuts below. As another streak of flame flew by, the glow intensified, amber the only colour visible in his eyes as he held Rowan close.

Although Rowan could not see, cradled into the man’s chest as he was, he could feel the overwhelming magical power gathering around them, settling upon him like a vise, making it hard to breathe as the mana condensed.

A moment later, the feeling was gone, replaced by a dazzling flash that Rowan could feel upon his back, even facing away from it as he was. Whatever the man had just done, it had been spectacular, and it had cleared the way, for he began moving once more, the ground beneath them flowing past at breakneck speeds.

For a while nothing happened. No more streaks of emerald or crimson flashed by, and the amber glow had dissipated from the man’s eyes once more. His breathing was growing ragged, the heavy rise and fall of his chest indicative of the strain he was putting on his body, but he pressed onward, with Rowan still held firmly in his arms.

Determined to find out what was happening, Rowan did his best to move, barely managing to lift his head and turn it forwards. All around them was wasteland, the land flat and arid in every direction but forward. There, a familiar series of buildings could be seen, standing high behind a wall of dusty stone. Taureen.

Eyes knit together in confusion, Rowan wanted to ask the man why he was bringing him to Taureen. He shouldn’t be in Taureen, he should be in Faebrook. He had left Taureen, why was the man bringing him back? However, the questions all died upon his lips, his mouth refusing to cooperate as he stared up at his saviour.

Summoning his strength, Rowan was about to make one last attempt when an enormous flash lit up the sky behind them. Violet light poured from the direction in which they had came, creating an enormous half-dome that rippled with power as it collided against four smaller spheres of crimson, emerald, and obsidian.

Above, the man had gone pale, his steps slowing slightly as he turned to look at the scene.

“-nan.” Tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke a single word that Rowan could not make out, the man’s face a mask of pure grief the likes of which he had never before seen. Not pausing to wipe away the tears, the man resumed moving, not looking back as violet light warred for supremacy in the starry night sky...

With a start, Rowan awoke, breathing heavily as he gasped for air. Glancing around, he could see that his surroundings were those of the dormitory in Faebrook. There was no giant, there were no enemies, he was not back in Taureen.

Just a dream. It was just a dream. Repeating the line like a mantra, Rowan attempted to get back to sleep. However, slumber did not come easy for the sweat-drenched boy, and as dawn broke over the academy, he found himself still awake, his mind uneasily committing the events of the dream to memory.