I was alone again. The white space was barren besides the semi-sentient bean bag chair, which rolled towards me. I wonder what this place was. A manifestation of my soul, a separate plane, or some part of my mind. I flopped onto the chair, which coiled around, propping up exactly the right spots to maintain focus, but still be comfortable.

I was a sorcerer that much was certain. They suffered from a distinct lack of variety in spells, however the ability to muster them from their own body was nothing to scoff at. I meditated my most useful weapon would be to determine exactly what dragons bloodline I shared. And boy there were a lot.

Gold dragons that breathe fire, Blue dragons that breathe electricity, Nightmare dragons that breathe acid, Forest dragons that pierce your skin with razor tipped leaves, Ethereal dragons that crushed you with their voice, and many more.

Red dragons were the most iconic, followed only by gold. Their had to be someway to manifest this. I tapped into the well of energy within me. It was like a dropper outside, but in here it felt like an ocean. I was filled with this energy, but all my attempts were fruitless. I couldn’t just will it out of my hands. Perhaps… Dragons were most known for breathing their respective element.

I part my lips, and suddenly feel pressure rise in my chest. Like a bubble ready to burst. I hear a crackling noise like static in my ears, and my hairs stand on end.

With a clap, a bolt of lightning flies from my mouth. As quickly as it comes it's gone. Leaving my ears ringing, and vision swimming. The force sends me flying backwards, and I tumble end over end. The bean bag has latched itself onto me, and catches my fall.

“Jesus christ.”

So electricity it is then. That’s blue dragons, or copper? No, bronze. If I remember correctly, but things might be different. I feel less now, as if part of me disappeared with that bolt. I don’t attempted that again. I focus once more on that energy, how had it felt. Like it was rushing to get out almost. It’s gas like the energy spreading out to fit every corner of my being down to each tip of hair. There was less now so it was more subdued but still frantic almost. Like a tide pushing water, the shake of an earthquake, the crackle of static on a woolen sweater, and the heat of a flame as it licks at wood. The feeling was hard to describe. I let it roll over me that frenzied energy, seeping out of everyone of my pores.

Lightning dances on my skin, arcing between hairs but never damaging myself. The feeling inside lessens some more. I channel more, and more power out. The area heats up quickly, and the clean smell of ozone fills the air. I feel my inside lessen fast, and great bolts arc out striking the ground around me. I feel like a tesla coil.

I attempt to ‘grab’ at the lightning. Channeling into a singular bolt. That proves troublesome however. It slips out of my hands more often than not.

I try again instead of spreading it throughout my entire body, I channel it towards my palm. The lightning on my skin petering out as it focuses down. I don’t have such a fine tune as the best I can manage is getting the electricity to my right shoulder. This is fine for now though. I decide to call it there. I needed to take baby steps, and my energy is nearly out. I can feel it flickering weakly.

I open my eyes, Debussy was playing now, Claire de Lune. Time has passed, and quickly, much quicker than what was spent in the white space. Sue is fletching some arrows, keeping a stray eye on Arthur. I walk over to Sue.

A polished composite shortbow, rests on a rack unstrung. I gesture to it,

“Do you mind if I…”

He gives me an affirming grunt. I lift up the wooden bow and string it. I take a handful of arrows, and a quiver and string it to my waist. I stand before the closest target, 50 feet away. I test the bow, this has quite the draw strength, but I'm used to it falling back into old habits. I lift an arrow, and knock it.

I pull the string back, this bow is much stronger than I thought. I pull harder though, eventually the string is near my cheek. I release and the arrows flies, it misses the target by about 5 feet and I hear a chuckle.

I ready myself again, ignoring the laugh. I knock the arrow once more, and pull back. My arms strain, but I stay firm. When the string is pulled back, I steady my breathing. I release and the arrow strikes the third ring from the center.

Without hesitation I draw another arrow, and knock it pulling the bow string back, and steadying myself. I release and the arrow flies closer this time slightly above the center and to the right. Another, too far to the left, then just below. Soon I’m out of arrows, the target is peppered with them. Three are dead center, of the other 12 only the first one is not on the target. The rest are close if not adjacent to the center.

I let out a large breath, and walk down range to collect the arrows, no one else was shooting so I didn’t bother with formality of looking across the range. With the arrows secured, I made my way back to the shooting line. I go for the next increment, 60 feet. The first arrow just barely catches the edge of the target, but none miss this time. I fire all of my arrows, only two hit the bullseye this time however. I have a better grouping though so I’m fine with it.

After retrieving my arrows I head to the next range increment 70 feet. This was about the limit that the bow would give me. I pull the string back, and focus. On release I follow the arrow all the way, the release of the string, the energy behind the arrow, the soft twang of the bow, it whistles through the air. And hits the target. I was slow about it this time, taking my time to hit the target. The second arrow I follow the same pattern slightly lower, and to the right. The second arrow hits, to far down and not far enough right. I feel through the second one again. Keeping the bow pulled back for a few seconds while I adjust my aim. The arrows slowly get closer and closer to the bullseye, as I focus. Suddenly for a split second, before I release, I’m in that white space, and the remaining energy bubbles up. I blink and release the arrow.

The arrow screeches as it flies, rending the air apart. Smoke curls from the bow. Ozone fills the air, and when the arrow hits a clap of thunder echoes through the air as if lightning had just struck. The target is smoldering ruins that fall from the sky onto us. The bow string snaps burnt in the middle.

Damien comes sprinting out.

“WHAT IN THE FUCK WAS THAT?”

He screams, I shrug. I didn’t know what happened either.