Enormous waves of magic radiated from the young boy who had found his spell. Pointing his middle finger at the giant earth dragon while keeping Eversor low, he unleashed his magic in the form of a giant pointy obstacle which rapidly flew at the dragon’s body who was unable to see the unreal harbinger of death.

Despite the amount of magic it took Astraeus to conjure it and the exhaustion he felt for maintaining it in the mortal realm, it was dwarfed by the mother’s body.

Yet the visible unnatural movement of the descending dragon signalled to Astraeus that his spell had hit and that it had damaged the dragon significantly, exceeding his expectations.

Swaying to the side and hitting a wall, told Astraeus that despite refilling his magic, his body and magic were slowly reaching their mortal limit, not allowing much more strain put on them before forsaking their host.

Realising that he’d have to terminate the threat quickly, he dashed ahead, yet slower than running through the snow, he closed in on the position where the dragon had descended. All joy and eagerness from before had long vanished.

Grim and determined, Astraeus’ face resembled an old seasoned veteran who went into his last battle, not for glory anymore, but for the simple reward of achieving the task, to do good even in one’s last moments.

As the boy slid over a broken wall, his eyes noticed that the dragon was rising again. Immediately understanding that his only advantage would be the melee since his magic was already depleted again as well as his reserves were already used, Astraeus used his remaining available magic to create pads beneath his feet, ungracefully stepping into the sky, dashing across the air, seemingly using it as a launching tool, propelling himself rapidly into the dragon’s domain.

When the beast witnessed his foe’s intrusion into its territory, it opened its giant maw and unleashed a sizzling inferno onto Astraeus.

Cursing himself for donating the Lifgrum pelt, the boy’s eyes darted around faster than ever, searching for a spell to protect himself from getting incinerated.

This has to suffice!

Jumping a final step, Astraeus held his hand against the incoming fire, diverting it to his sides, yet some of the flames found their way and singed down his clothes, inflicting both heavy and light burns on his legs and feet.

Nevertheless, Astraeus, flying through the sky, sword ready in hand, plunged Eversor deep into the dragon’s scales, igniting his holy weapon.

Shrieking a cry of terror the dragon promptly accelerated, ascending high into the clouds, dragging the lowly human with it as nothing but a burden, a mere bug. The flames were painful yet they didn’t hurt the mother.

Unbeknownst to Astraeus, the mother was near full strength. Both of his attacks did little damage, only increasing her anger and resilience.

Grabbing one of the loose scales in the dragon’s natural plate armour, Astraeus ripped his sword out of the beast, dangling around in the air, hanging onto dear life only by a scale which could break off at any time.

Thrusting his sword upwards, Astraeus forcefully screwed it into a higher point in the dragon's armour. Roaring furiously, the dragon commenced its instinctual defence mechanism of the barrel roll, a deadly hectic move which caused problems even for experienced mages.

Gradually spinning faster, the dragon created an airless vortex, robbing Astraeus of essential air and stability in an unusual battlefield.

But the fierce warrior wasn’t done yet.

Jerking himself upwards, Astraeus found himself on the beast’s back, staring at the rapidly approaching ground.

Nonetheless, he was certain of his survival. His countless battles against monsters had taught him that not a single one of them desired to die. They wouldn’t sacrifice their lives for naught.

Except when they’re ill or when they grieve.

Suddenly the prospect of the dragon swerving away from its impending doom at the earth became highly unlikely.

Small moving dots at the ground provided Astraeus with another worry.

If the dragon was really ready to suicide itself into Bereticum, then many more people would die.

A crackling sound attracted Astraeus’ attention. It emerged from the dragon’s mouth and as it increased in volume, the boy remembered where he’d heard it before. It had been shortly before the first dragon swallowed him inside his purgatory of a maw.

Not again!

Images of the dried out corpses, the severed limbs and the innocent children which he had dragged into this nightmare, flooded Astraeus’ mind.

He wouldn’t allow more people to die. Even though he had failed to protect them in the first place, he wouldn’t allow more death.

Quickly calculating his possibilities, he concluded that the only way of preventing more destruction was the dragon’s death. Its immediate death.

But if I kill it here and now, it’ll flatten parts of Bereticum. I have to beat it somewhere else.

A ripple went through the dragon’s scales, nearly throwing Astraeus off.

And I’ll have to do it fast.

Glancing towards the glaring evening sun, Astraeus found a solution for both his problems. Or at least one of them. The logistical part of it would need further correcting and mastering.

Tensing his whole body, putting his centre of gravity into his arms, Astraeus twisted his sword around, creating a devastating wound in the beast’s flesh. Pushing against his sword, Astraeus shoved it even deeper into the monster, unfortunately unbuckling his weapon strap in the process.

With immense speed, Astraeus reached for his rapidly distancing weapons, missing them by no more than a hand’s length.

Praying to his guardian Angel that somehow he wouldn’t lose it, his eyes darted around, switching colours thousandfold in mere fractions of a second.

From somewhere within a part of his magic returned and he found the fitting spell to attract his crucial weapons.

As his cache repulsed from mid air, he loosened his grip on Eversor, his life insurance and grabbed his weapons just in time, before his feeble grasp on Eversor’s handle demanded his full attention and he almost teleported back towards his sword through the sky.

The dragon was ceasing his vortex, either due to exhaustion or to pain. Nonetheless, it allowed Astraeus to breathe in again, deeply inhaling the fresh air, which even at his altitude, reeked of blood, smoke and faeces.

The sudden spread of the beast’s wings nearly threw Astraeus off, the boy only remaining on his feet due to excellent reflexes which allowed him to use his muscular legs as pistons to press himself off the gravity defying dragon.

Yet as he pushed away from the dragon, he felt his left foot slip on something slippery.

Fearfully glancing towards the problem, he realised that the dragon’s blood was flowing into the open, wettening its scales and skin.

In a sudden motion, Astraeus grabbed into his arsenal of weapons, desperately searching for the thing he’d need to survive.

Finally, he found it, pulling it out of its casing, revealing a metallic chain with obsidian spikes at the end, formed into a flail which was yet to be sullied, meaning that it would be the first time the Domitor would use his grandfather’s inheritance.

Generally speaking, it would be the first time the unholy weapon would be unleashed in years since the previous Domitor head demanded that it should be locked away eternally. Well, Astraeus kind of stole it but that’s a story for another day.

Rippling down the dragon’s scales, the chain stopped promptly when Astraeus grabbed its head and rammed it harshly into the open wound he had previously caused, using the spikes as barbs to stabilise and fortify the weapon inside the beast’s flesh, eliciting a sharp cry of torment from the majestic being.

Calmly closing his eyes, Astraeus spoke a prayer, before jumping off the dragon, leaving Eversor deep in the monster’s body.

As if his life depended on it, which it did, the boy grabbed the chain with all his might, sliding not a centimetre down, disregarding any physical laws.

Seemingly physically uninfluenced by this intrusion, the dragon continued his path across the sky, occasionally retrying to breathe fire but it always resulted in utter failure. Astraeus had crushed its organ responsible for creating the liquid to ignite the flames. But the disappearance of its torturer didn’t go by unnoticed.

Its tail felt someone present, who repeatedly bumped against it. Punching with its tail, Astraeus defended with his arms or by evading into a different direction, a struggle between those two beasts of nature ensued which would drag the people of Bereticum into it once again.

Since dragons weren’t dumb, but rather among the top predators of nature, the mother knew that it could distort or angry its opponent by slaughtering the boy’s members of his race, alias humans.

This disaster occurred when the strong claws of the beast snapped three humans off the ground and crushed them instantly, spraying their blood across the town in a rain of gore. A loose eye approached Astraeus who coincidentally evaded the gross organ, his mind desperately attempting to block the cries of agony but failing miserably as children’s pleas reached the struggling boy.

Infusing his flail with magic, Astraeus activated the enchanted rune which was forged into the metal chains.

The rune had been engraved by an old dynasty of mages who had served in Cael’s service for centuries. The Honoris family, a bitter rival of the Domitors, had been tasked with this project since they were specialists in the domain of controlling mind, body and soul. For that, they were despised and hated by the soldiers and warriors of the militant Domitor family.

But despite absolutely ignoring the unspoken taboo of avoiding the enemy family, Astraeus had many friends in their ranks, especially since most of them trained and studied together in the capital school for aspiring mages.

Most of them hated it there, notably Astraeus who was tortured and challenged daily by ever increasing numbers of monsters or stronger monsters.

Or humans. Fighting against those was the most fun even though Astraeus’ subconsciousness cleverly hid this fact to maintain the illusion of a perfect son.

Yet in this precise school for magic, Astraeus encountered some of his earliest friends with whom he persevered through the horrible time.

Callida and Lucania Honoris were his best and most hidden friends. It filled them with thrill whenever they’d sneak out to meet.

Obviously for the mind controlling Honoris prodigies it was easier but it forced Astraeus to adapt and overcome this challenge.

Surprisingly, even though his father knew about this forbidden friendship, he allowed it to happen, thus enabling his son to socialise a bit before fate would rip apart this precious relationship.

Discarding the thoughts about his best friends, Astraeus entered the beast’s mind, his consciousness flowing through the monster, penetrating each desire, fear and hope it had.

Its sorrow and grief.

Its perished joy and mirth.

Its rage and bloodlust

Reaching his goal, Astraeus found himself in control of the body. Ordering the dragon’s wings to increase the beat of wings, he aimed for the cave from which the beast emerged from.

The beast flashed over the snow, Astraeus remarking his trail of destruction. But he tore off his gaze, avoiding unnecessary pain and rather looked at the setting sun, praying that everything would be over soon. That he could forget it all.

If he just terminated this cursed beginning of his year of seclusion, maybe he could start anew. Find new hope, love and joy.

Maybe.

Maybe.

But the chances of that were slim.

Even the usually optimistic Astraeus realised that he couldn’t simply forget. The pictures would haunt him until the end of his life.

But yet.

He believed.

He believed in himself and the Angels’ guidance.

Everything will turn out great. You promised me mother. I just have to persevere. Just … persevere.

A tear was rolling down his face but he wiped it away. He would cry once it was all over. Only then, would he allow himself to show his real colours. Not while people were depending on him.

Not now. Not yet.

Strangely, the time he spent in the dragon’s mind was the calmest in Bereticum yet and it gave him time to really think.

But he didn’t use it.

He knew that if he was allowed to think, he’d only hurt himself. Not physically but mentally, he’d lay in ruins. Just like Bereticum which he had doomed, upon which he had brought death and destruction.

He didn’t want the same thing to happen to himself.

Even though he alway praised himself as a saviour and peacebringer. Deep down, as every other human being on earth, he was selfish.

Guilt was deserved yet he didn’t want to claim responsibility.

A young boy couldn’t accept that his dreams have been broken, that he has indirectly killed hundreds if not thousands. That he has disappointed the only person one wasn’t allowed to disappoint.

He made himself his enemy.

A strange sounding wheezing attracted the boy’s attention. It seemed as if the dragon was reaching its limit, both the sword and the flail taking its toll on the health which seemed great just moments ago.

You’re dying. Inside the dragon’s brain he saw that the dragon was frightened.

It mourned, not for its own death but for the death of its children. It detested the human who interrupted his peaceful slumber, who awoke it only to kill it.

Guilt was creeping back into Astraeus’ mind at the inevitability of this predicament.

He could’ve stopped all the deaths but he didn’t. He had been egotistical. Per se nothing reprehensible, just natural, yet if it happened at the expense of other lives, quite detestable.

Dazzling reflections forced Astraeus to lift his hand to protect his eyes from the sun, releasing the dragon from his mental prison in the process since one who wields Assecla, the cursed flail, cannot control his body.

But the mourning, confused beast didn’t realise that its binding chains had been broken and continued its flight in the same direction as before.

Phew, lucky, commented Astraeus sarcastically. As to why sarcastically, I have no idea. But he certainly used the chance which presented itself to him so fortunately to release his pent up cynicism onto the world.

Beginning his ascent up the metal chain, Astraeus placed one hand after the other ever higher, ever closer to Eversor, his feet following each movement in an excellently coordinated manner which was remarkable if his fatigue and exhaustion were considered. Soon he was sweating all over his body, panting heavily, but his goal was in tangible proximity. Just two more pulls and he’d be on top of the beast’s back once again.

Placing his left hand on the pommel of his sword, the prince heaved himself onto his feet, looking at the dangling chain and the ruined, burning town in the far distance.

We’re nearly there. Relief was filling his mind and in the ecstasy of the moment of success, he brutally ripped his sword free, a lump of viscous blood sprawled out of the open hole.

All of Astraeus’ joy vanished as the dragon turned around and fell. Maliciously smirking at the falling boy, the dragon closed his wings to prohibit Astraeus any chance of gripping them.

Realising his impending doom, the mage faced the ground as he saw no possibility of survival in the dragon’s direction. Who’d look for salvation in a suicidal monster?

Checking whether his arsenal of weapons was still firmly attached to his back, Astraeus verified the tightness of the cache and refocused his attention towards possible solutions.

Even in this lethal fall, Astraeus felt calm. For a last time, he looked at the tumbling dragon, prayed his prayers and closed his eyes, changing into an embryonal position. His solution was easy and simple

He’d do nothing and just fall.

Fall and survive.

Fall and die.

Two possibilities.

Impact

And he entered the void …

Waking up, he found himself deep in the snow, firstly fighting for air and digging a passage to freedom.

Upon breaking through the soft upper layer of snow, Astraeus analysed his environment. The dragon had seemingly landed a couple hundred metres away from the boy’s location. It had splattered into all directions for twice its length, painting the surrounding area red and giving the snow-covered trees a nice, deterrent, gory decoration.

Further turning his head around, Astraeus deduced that they were on top of the cave which had collapsed. Evidently not fully. But another clue was the stunning view onto the underlying Lake.

The setting sun tipped it in a magnificent red. Not the type of red which Astraeus had seen plentily throughout the day and life in general, but a warm, alluring red.

One which made you sleepy, which invited you to rest, which granted you the feeling of an unbeknown safety. It was hard, but nevertheless Astraeus managed to tear his gaze away from the beauty.

Respect, for the dragon mother, who after Astraeus saw her true colour, drew him towards her. The approach was slightly hindered by the snow which devoured Astraeus' feet on each step, sucking in the bare skin, burning it icyly contrary to the incineration by his slain foe.

Upon reaching his dead foe, Astraeus kneeled down and placed his hand on the still warm scales of the dragon, closing his eyes for a moment before speaking: “Ashes to Ashes. Bones to Bones. Return to your home. Be it your birth as well as death.”

This was his favourite prayer from the church. Origin of this love was since the prayer and Astraeus shared the same opinion, if a prayer could have an opinion.

Patting the corpse twice, Astraeus erected himself to his full glory, soaked, ragged and filthy clothes and armour, shaven head, and body full of foreign bodily fluids. Whether blood, spittle or piss, he didn’t question.

“Rest well. Join your children and slumber eternally. For this world is terrible and cruel.”

Waiting for a bit, Astraeus thought about whether he should add something to this burial saying and eventually decided on doing exactly that.

“You’ve been the challenge I desired,” conceded the exhausted and confused boy. As if on cue, his body yielded and he tumbled to the ground, falling into the soft snow, his tense muscles immediately relaxing, his fierce battle personality switching with his usual mindset as he ignored the excruciating pain from the burns, wounds and scratches.

Using his last reserves of strength, he pushed himself away from the cold ground but it only sufficed for a sitting position.

But the reward was fully worth it.

Looking at the glistening beaming Lake Astraeus felt all the tension vanish, a strange post-battle calm settling into his consciousness. The beautiful setting sun illuminated not only Lake Incontinentia in a warm glow, but the infernally blazing town as well.

But Astraeus didn’t look in that direction. He looked eastwards, at the sun, not caring to cover his eyes for the beauty was superior to the pain. Yet the painful reality was still superior to the cosy colourful imagination as it intimidated Astraeus, the Godslayer, and prevented watching the apocalypse he had inflicted upon the innocent peaceful town of Bereticum.

Suddenly the hero felt the light touch of a woman’s hand on his left shoulder but didn’t bother to look at the one who had approached him, rather staring into the innocent sun than the accusing face of his past.

Maybe I'll be luckier in the Heaven of the East. Right, the Prime Patriarch ordered me to not call the city that way. I should listen to him … maybe he could've stopped me, prevented this massacre.

Astraeus' head dropped onto his knees, the tears streamed down his cheeks, beautifully red-tainted from both the sun and blood.

But it wasn’t his blood.

He wasn’t the one to suffer physically but the people who had died today.

Only his mind, his conscience was cracking, nearing the brim of insanity, of madness. The shell, Astraeus Domitor, summoned by expectations, responsibilities and hopes, was dying.

Dying a horrible death as it destroyed itself while failing the expectations which had created it

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Guilt is a great tool for the oppressors to keep humble righteous people from rebelling against the authorities. It can stun one, break one, devour one but also strengthen one, reinforce one’s resolve, help one overcome their dark sides. Use guilt to your own advantage and never be consumed by it, for the simple thing we call ‘living,’ is substantially guilty.