A gob of spit shot to the ground by Hamish’s feet as he wiped his lips. What remained of his beard oozed with smoke as he kept his eyes firmly locked onto Tarkon. The sound of the Duke’s wyvern soared into the distance as Tarkon smirked and spun his wand between his fingers. With a flash of his hand a burning arc of fire erupted between the two warriors.

Hamish growled and ducked as the streak of fire shot out at him like the talon of a great beast. He spun off to the side as Tarkon charged forth with blasts of fire from each hand.

THWUM

A hammer spun through the flames, forcing Tarkon to duck to avoid it. With lightning reflexes he swept his leg outwards in the fighting style of the beastfolk, sweeping Hamish’s feet out from beneath him as the fire disappeared.

Tarkon’s hand glowed bright red as it drove towards Hamish’s throat.

THUNK

The smack of dwarven plate boots shook through the stadium, as Hamish drove his heel into Tarkon’s gut. He rolled towards Tarkon and gripped him by the throat, standing tall, he then drove Tarkon into the arena floor, causing the stone tile below to shatter like glass.

Blood bubbled from between Tarkon’s lips as he gripped tight to the dwarf’s meaty arm. The smell of burning flesh, and a blast of steam and smoke, sizzled from underneath his hands. In an instant the small spark of fire underneath his grip exploded into a towering inferno, engulfing Hamish in a pillar of fire.

Hamish staggered backwards, howling with a scream that made the crowd look on in horror.

As his skin charred and peeled, he grit his teeth and grabbed deep into his bag at his waist and pulled forth a magical tonic that looked like liquid gold. Shaking and struggling he popped the lid and drank the liquid down.

He roared like a wild animal caught in a trap and tossed the flask to the ground, turning it to dust with the force of the impact. The rolling fire engulfing his body, sputtered, before going out like a candle in the wind. His body caked in blood, and wrapped in branches of charred flesh, looked like it was only holding together by the dwarf’s will.

Tarkon shot up from the ground and swept his hind leg behind his lead before launching an explosive side kick into Hamish’s chest, sending him tumbling backwards. Not wanting to give the dwarf time to recover, he quickened his step and dived high into the air with his blazing fist cocked.

CRACK

Tarkon’s fist drove deep into the earth, as blood splattered against his face. Broken bone and sinew clung to Tarkon’s fist as he pulled it out of the stone, and Hamish’s arm twitched beside the crater.

Hamish rolled to his feet, blood pouring from his shoulder joint. He just wasn't fast enough to completely avoid the blow.

Hamish lifted the haft of a small throwing axe, and sunk it into Tarkon’s back.

Tarkon’s skin rippled and twisted under the blow, as scales broke free from the point of impact. Tarkon quickly spun and knocked the hatchet out of Hamish’s hand, leaving it to scatter across the ground. With his eyes searing bright red, and his face covered in scales, it was easy to see why Tarkon was so feared.

“It’s over” he growled, as he gripped Hamish’s face within his palm.

Hamish smashed at Tarkon’s arm trying desperately to tear himself free.

A blast of white light shot out from Tarkon's hand, and an ominous silence followed as the spell was muffled by the Dwarf's skull.

Hamish slumped to the floor.

The crowd let out a roar that made the jaws of the arena shake.

Tarkon shoved his boot onto the dwarf’s chest and rose his fist into the air.

The halfling beside Mirio jumped in glee “He killed him! He killed him! He’s never done it before! I knew he had it in him! Ha ha!”

Mirio looked on with dread, not quite able to believe what he was seeing.

*Surely you aren’t that kind of guy… Even if Hamish has killed all of his opponents before you, don’t do the same*

A wind blasted through the stands as the mages brought down the magic they were using to amplify the sights and sounds of the fight. And as though hearing Mirio’s thoughts, Tarkon stepped off Hamish’s body and knelt beside him. Hamish’s flesh sizzled as Tarkon’s burning hand sealed off the wound. He pulled a flask from his belt and popped the lid, dripping it between the dwarf’s lips.

“Aw come on!” the halfling screamed, “Just finish him off!”

Mirio smiled in relief as he watched Tarkon toss aside the vial and stand once more and spin within the cheering of the crowd.

TARKON TARKON TARKON

“Wow” Mirio said smiling, “I can’t believe Hamish stood back up after getting his arm torn off, and still had a go, they are both complete animals”

“Come on Ezee, let’s get backstage” he said as he shuffled between awestruck fans.

Mirio nodded to Tarkon as he exited the arena and was received by a welcoming smile.

“Hey, let the man down,” he said to his personal guards before waving Mirio through into the changing rooms.

Tarkon picked up a mug of ale from the table, and drank it down in one go. His hand slapped down onto the food platter sitting on the table in the middle of the room, and gripped up a pile of salted meat that he then shoved into his mouth.

Between chews he motioned for Mirio to come in further and take a seat.

“So did you learn something?” Tarkon asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, don’t fuck with the champ”

Tarkon cocked his head back and laughed, “That’s right, don’t fuck with the champ”

“Can’t believe Hamish killed all his opponents before you, kinda changed my opinion of the guy if I am honest”

“Yeah, he’s one of those people that see their opponents as evil incarnate, too simple minded to see that killing isn’t that easy to justify. Fucker deserved what he got”

“But you didn’t kill him, or leave him to die, why?”

“I’m a fighter, and that doesn’t only extend to battles of might, but the battle within too. I wouldn’t be half the sorcerer I am today, if I took the easy path out, or chose to follow a reckless path”

“I couldn’t agree with you more. A reckless mind is too dull to win a battle of wits, and that is as true in a fight as it is in life”

Tarkon nodded and slumped down on a bench by the wall. He put his head back on the wall and looked up at the ceiling.

“You know, even pathetic weak minded douchebags like Hamish can still put up a fight, always be on your toes, even if you are miles ahead in the brains department”

“I hear you, the tides of battle are fickle enough to give anyone the win,” Mirio replied.

Tarkon took in a deep breath before letting out a sigh, “So tell me, what did you see in the fight tonight that you want to learn?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah”

“I just want to learn about the innate pool of magic and how you draw from it”

“But any half assed sorcerer could tell you that much?”

“I disagree, I think that the understanding of the fundamentals is the most important thing. I can’t trust that kind of instruction to just anyone”

Tarkon nodded in agreement, “Yeah they’d probably tell you some quick fix bullshit, you want the truth of it. Alright, I’ll tell you the truth and let’s see if you can handle it. Have you ever heard of the story of how magic was invented?”

“My old master said something about the arcanists searching for the clockwork universe within ancient texts”

“I’m not talking about arcane magic, I’m talking about all magic”

“I guess I haven’t heard the story then”

“Back before the gods came, before the dragons, and the monsters that roamed the lands. The world was deaf to magic”

“You are talking about the cataclysm right? How the celestial planes collided, and tore open portals that merged the many worlds together”

“Yeah, back before the cataclysm there was this guy. Crazy son of a bitch. Damn near good at everything. There wasn’t a skill he couldn’t whoop your ass at. Think you were a poet, he’d spin words around you until you felt your life had no meaning, because in comparison your words were trash. Think you were a fighter, he’d put you down like you were a child being backhanded by your mother. The guy was beyond talented, at almost everything”

“Sounds badass, its probably exaggerated but I’m following you”

“Nah nah, this isn’t exaggerated, if anything it is an underestimate, the guy was beyond you or me, or damn well anyone else, and he knew it. While most people might get cocky and think to rule the world or something, he was different, he often went around like an ordinary guy. He worked ordinary jobs, he struggled to make ends meet, he relied on friends and people close to him”

“How does that make sense, if he is the best at everything, just make money on those things”

“Nah, that wasn’t his way. He didn’t want to make life easy for himself. Way he saw it, the hardship was one of the things holding him together, keeping him sane. I suppose he was scared that if he truly embraced what he was, he would cease to be human anymore”

“This might sound weird, but I think I get how he feels. I kind of fear what I could become sometimes myself”

“As do I… But listen, even though in his time they had never heard of magic beyond stories and myths, he, because of his capability and talent, slowly realised a pattern amidst all things. A set of rules within the chaos”

“The clockwork universe” Mirio replied

“Shhh, stop it with that shit, it wasn’t the fucking clockwork universe. It was just something he couldn’t ignore, something staring him in the face all his life. He realised that it was tied to his talent, his ability, and was a reason for how he had been able to succeed where others simply couldn’t”

“He found a connection between skill, and magic? I was told that was impossible, that magic and skill are different and have to be cultivated separately”

“Just let me finish, this guy created the understanding of magic, simply to create small spells that could help people learn, and grow. Simple things that calmed the heart when it beat too fast, or helped the body avoid overreacting to damage. He wasn’t greedy, or trying to create fireballs or anything. And you know what the world did when they saw his magic?”

“No, what?”

“They said he was a fraud, a trickster, and full of it”

“Why?”

“They just couldn’t believe what they were seeing, or didn’t want to believe it”

“Why would anyone want to ignore magic?”

“Because they feared the consequences of it being real, what it meant, and that they had to go to him to learn it. It was a hit to their pride”

“Ah, political stuff then. Self preservation, and wanting to be better than others”

“Yeah, so anyways this guy creates magic in secret, creating sophisticated knowledge from scratch, without any help. Just figuring it out like some kind of impossible puzzle. Until one day the cataclysm happens”

“Oh shit, don’t tell me he caused it? Like a spell went wrong or something?”

“No, no, he didn’t cause it. No one knows what did it. Well maybe some gods know but you know how they are”

“Tight lipped and self righteous to a fault”

“Yeah exactly. So, eventually with the cataclysm happening his mana surges. What was before simple spells that did primordial level stuff, turned into powerful magics that he alone wielded”

“The dragon’s learned from him, monsters learned from him, and the different schools of magic learned from him”

“No way, how come I've never heard of this guy, what did they call him?”

“Ha, its kind of stupid. No one knows his name. He was just called the bard, because he travelled the land, and loved to sing to folk as he went”

“The bard huh?”

“My point is, innate magic isn’t something inborn like the name suggests, it comes from this crazy creative and charismatic guy. It was then only enhanced by the cataclysm, and it then took root”

“Come on though, surely the gods had magic of their own, I don’t imagine them going to him to learn”

“You might be right on that one, but, this guy basically invented magic and from what I hear, he said to one of the dragons, that the source of all magic lives within the strength of your identity”

“Like, your name? Or is he talking about something else here?”

“I mean, following your own desires, following your gut, that kind of thing”

“But isn’t that bullshit though, what is to separate that advice from what everyone is already doing? Most people have a lot of shitty instincts, and follow them to a fault”

“A dragon asked the same actually, and the bard responded ‘when faced with a choice that is not your own, make your own observations a priority over panic’ which means, you have to not be a dick first, and put in some effort to follow common sense, before working it out”

“That is actually really awesome, it is crazy because I feel that is the same reason why you didn’t kill Hamish, YOU made the choice, even if the crowd wanted you to finish him off”

“Yeah, you have to let your desires flow, but also you have to tame how they are expressed”

“So… Innate magic comes from improved expression of yourself?”

“There you go!”

“So how do you train that?”

“There are drills and things, but I honestly think you are better off doing like the bard did. Figure it out for yourself. You aren’t going to express shit all if you are copying some other asshole. If you can’t figure it out after giving it a try, come back and I’ll give you some drills”

“Alright, I’ll give it some thought”

“Remember, once you get the hang of it, you still need to teach me that trick of yours, all that flowing rainbow energy stuff”

Mirio smiled and grabbed some meat off the table to toss to Ezee. As Ezee guzzled it down Tarkon looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“For real?”

“What?”

“Man, get the fuck out of here” Tarkon replied with a swat of his hand, “This motherfucker, just helping himself”.

“Alright alright, I'll let you get your rest, and thanks for the wise words”

…

Lantern stones lined the main streets, soft shadows casting into the turns and alleyways. It would have been serene if it weren’t for the boisterous crowds flooding out from the arena. Dwarves gathered by the street corner sipped on their drinks in silence. Beast folk pushed each other around in mock battles in between bouts of laughter and chewing down street food. A duo of halflings scampered about with wide eyes, one tugging on the other’s clothes, while the poked their own lip in thought. Mirio was grateful for the crowd as it had offered some form of protection as he made his way out of the rougher streets and side alleys of the arena district.

Ezee rushed off ahead as he smelled fresh air on the breeze.

“Hold up, don’t run off,” Mirio called out, made uncomfortable by the potential of repeating the mistakes made earlier in the day. Ezee looked back and though eager to move ahead circled back to Mirio’s side.

“Thanks bud” he smiled before continuing to lurch his way along the main road.

Mirio’s nose twitched as a heavenly scent of flower oils carried in the air. Soft giggles of two elven women sounded from behind him. His eyes were drawn to their curvy figures as they passed ahead of him. While normally confident around the women in the vale he felt like he was intruding as his eyes drifted along their waistlines and up to their blonde hair as it flowed in the breeze. There was just something about the city that made the women more intimidating than before. If he were forced to describe it he might have said that they had an expectation of men that was different than any girl from the vale, or that they worked at a higher pace of thought to which he felt that he could stumble infront of.

Mirio let out a sigh as they turned into one of the corner taverns and disappeared from view. After several minutes he found himself in the next district, the cold blue and white stones changed to a uniform creamy purple color as the streets widened and the architecture became ornamental. Where before the houses and buildings had been sheer faced, they now were adorned with pillars and balconies. As he limped forwards a great blue dome peeked out behind the buildings. Off to his right all the buildings turned away to reveal a plaza that led to the great temple of Apollo; the sun god, and deity most worshipped in Darlan.

At the center of the plaza stood the avatar of Apollo holding up the sun. Even at night it shone from the lantern stones held up in its palms.

The eastern gate was visible far up ahead but Mirio stopped “Sorry boy, just a little longer, I have to do one last thing”

Ezee whimpered and restlessly turned in circles as Mirio turned towards the temple.

“Won’t be long”

After hobbling up the stairs he broke open the seal of the front door to look upon the dozens of wounded laid out in makeshift beds. The marble floors were decorated with the seven sided sun symbol of Apollo and kept immaculately clean.

“Do you mind?” one of the clerics said as motioning towards Mirio.

“It is important this room be kept clean, please leave the animal outside, and place your shoes over there” the cleric continued, pointing at a shoe rack by the door.

“Of course. Sorry Ezee buddy, you’ll have to wait here”

YUFF!

Mirio closed the door behind him as Ezee circled anxiously outside. After putting his shoes on the rack the cleric no longer paid him any mind and continued to tend to a small boy covered in sweat and taken by fever.

A man in blue armor approached from the far side of the temple. Mirio looked closely at the seven sided sun emblazoned into the chestplate “I’ve never seen a cleric wearing armor before, but you clearly are in service to Apollo”.

“Yes, I am a warpriest, my talents are best utilised in the battlefield,” the man said as he combed back his curly golden locks of hair with his hand.

“I am one of the council from the vale, I came to see how the people are doing”

The man nodded curtly before stiffening his lips, “By the make of you, with that limp of yours, would you be the paladin I was told about, Mirio was it?”

“Ah, yeah, well the title is strictly an honorary one. The people of the vale gave me the title”

The man nodded along as though only half listening while leading Mirio toward the main altar.

“The Duke spoke highly enough of you, said you got Martin all in a twist when they watched you battle that beast”

“Oh well, I am a decent fighter I guess, and that guy strikes me as a bit too sensitive to be fair”

The man cracked a smile “He takes a while to get to know and doesn't trust easily”

“I’m sorry, but I never got your name”

“Arnil” he replied with a firm handshake.

“So did you guys find a way to help them yet? Or is it trickier than expected?”

“It is the later I am afraid, I petitioned the Duke for more resources, but he said that at this time he had to reserve all he has for other matters”

“So the obstacle to helping them is financial? I thought the people of the vale were to pay off the debt?”

“Well, for the initial care and lesser restorative spells, but I am afraid it has only eased the poor folk's suffering momentarily. We have greater restorative magics but their cost is quite prohibitive, we do not have even enough for one greater spell in our coffers”

“How much does a greater restorative spell cost?”

“Five platinum”

“Five platinum! Isn’t that the same amount as raising the dead?!”

“Quite so…”

“How much more would you need to carry out one spell? I mean you said you didn’t have enough, but maybe I can help if you already have coin for it”

Arnil turned to Mirio with a wide smile that revealed a mouthful of perfect pearly whites “Do you have a platinum piece for our donations, I am sure it would be enough”

Mirio reached into his pouch and brought out a shining platinum piece, he looked at it a moment before placing it in Arnil’s outstretched hand.

“Excellent, this will do. I shall prepare the spell”

“Can we try it on my brother first?” Mirio said as pointing over to the bed where Tad lay.

“Of course, I’ll bring him over,” Arnil said, before leaving to place Tad on the altar.

Arnil kneeled and clutched his hands with his head dipped and begun reciting prayers and incantations. His wording was rapid and fluttered in strange warping melodies, different to any kind of chanting Mirio had witnessed before.

*This must be what a warpriest’s quickened chants sound like*

“In grace grant me the power!” Arnil shouted loudly as bright light shone between his hands, casting shadows into the hall.

“RESTORE”

Tad’s body beamed with pearl colored light, as dark patches of curse magic streamed out of his body and pooled into a sphere above his chest. Mirio observed it in wonder for a moment before he could hear the splutter of Arnil’s breath as he struggled to complete the spell.

“Please your grace grant me enough power to banish this evil from this righteous plane and cast it back to the depths where it belongs”

Mirio looked on in horror as the ball began to drip back into Tad’s chest. He cast out his hands instinctively to catch the black ooze, only for it to fall through his left hand. As his right hand reached forwards a cool drip landed within his palm.

The dark liquid seeped into his hand and triggered the dagger’s curse within his arm, filling it with searing pain.

In an attempt to lull the pain, he brought forth the inspired energy of his enlightenment, and channelled it into his arm. The two energies erupted against one another, causing them to vibrate wildly.

DRIP DRIP

More of the black ooze dripped from the ball and absorbed into his hand.

Shivers of white flame began to crawl along his skin, whipping and stirring as though within a steep wind. Arnil glanced at Mirios glowing arm for a moment before quickly returning to his chants.

*What the hell is this shit? And why is it only responding to my curse? Could it be that this is Akur's magic?*

Mirio focused on the image of the dagger of shadows, and the feeling of it within his hand as the bright white flame of his arm burned brighter and brighter.

SHOOM

The blade formed from the ether.

DRIP DRIP

More of the black ooze dripped down, but this time landing on the side of the blade. The knife shimmered red for a moment before the ooze drained into its depths.

DRIP DRIP DRIP FWOOSH

The black sphere burst, with half of it sweeping into the blade, while the rest dived deep into Tad’s chest. He screamed in agony, “No… Please... “ before losing consciousness.

Arnil collapsed to the floor with his eyes rolled into the back of his head. While Mirio’s arm burst with violent flames.

The entire hall lit up as though in daylight, as Mirio rushed back from the altar and gripped his wrist agony.

The white light pulsed violently before blasting out from the tip of the blade, shattering the crystal dome of the temple. Shards of blue crystal showered down like rain, as clerics within the hall scattered for shelter. A pillar of light shot into the skies above the city leaving the sky itself to shake from the force.

Bolts of lightning formed within the cloudless skies, and crackled down in thunderous claps all through the city. Like the venomous strikes of a serpent, buildings all through the district caught ablaze.

Power surged through Mirio, as though it was being sucked out of him through a straw. The skies echoed with thunder and lightning every time Mirio shuddered and struggled.

Tarkon’s words jumped to the forefront of Mirio’s mind, “Sorcerers call that shit the grind”

*The grind… The chaos of magic*

“When working with chaotic magic, there is a certain speed of thought and adaptation you have to keep up with to flow with the spell”

Mirio grit his teeth, and opened his eyes as the flames engulfed his body.

“The more complicated the spell the more you have to adjust and think on your feet as it shifts to fuck you over”

Mirio searched furiously through his body for magical circles that might hold power over the spell.

*I can’t hold this… It is impossible… No one could handle this…*

“So there’s this guy, the Bard they call him, damn near good at everything. This guy created the understanding of magic, simply to create small spells that could help people learn, and grow. Simple things that calmed the heart when it beat too fast, or helped the body avoid overreacting to damage”

*To calm the heart? To help the body stop overreacting? Am I overreacting? How can I be when this is literally tearing even the sky apart?*

“So, eventually with the cataclysm happening his mana surges. What was before simple spells that did primordial level stuff, turned into powerful magics that he alone wielded”

*Are smaller magics being amplified somehow? If so, how can I control it? No matter how hard I try to pull in the energies they won’t budge*

“He didn’t want to make life easy for himself. Way he saw it, the hardship was one of the things holding him together, keeping him sane. I suppose he was scared that if he truly embraced what he was, he would cease to be human anymore”

*The hardship was keeping him sane? If that is true, then I need to stop trying to quell the power tearing me apart… And instead I need to focus smaller… Deeper… And sense the primordial magic being amplified*

Mirio began to convulse and dropped to one knee as he brought his left hand to his chest. He pinched between his fingertips a small hair follicle, and centered his focus at its base, driving his focus smaller and smaller as waves of energy surged from his body.

Arnil’s eyes rolled back to the front, and after wobbling for a moment he pulled himself up and gazed upon Mirio submerged within a violently surging pillar of light.

Blue glass crunched under his bare feet as he pushed towards Mirio.

*What kind of curse holds this much power?*

Mirio focused deeper and deeper, smaller and smaller, until he could feel the mana pools within him. They boiled like the surface of a lake within a tempest.

Lightning struck out the front of the temple, splitting the statue of Apollo’s avatar in two. Ezee scampered off the front steps and into a side alley, watching on as flashes of light illuminated the night sky.

*Keep calm, just calm it down, remember the magic circles used to contain the curse. Draw the mana into the circles, spread out the force, dampen the effect, like a wet cloth upon a fire*

The dagger within Mirio’s hand wavered before returning into the ether. The inspiring light, quivered, before blinking out, and as quickly as the light had erupted, it vanished.

Mirio was all that remained, and amidst the darkness he muttered to himself his creed.

“I am strongest when I am weakest,

I will not be deceived by veils of truth,

I will remember who I am,

I will not let this be cheapened,

I believe in more”

Arnil grabbed onto Mirio as he collapsed from the exhaustion. The lantern stones within the hall flickered back to life. Arnil stared up at Apollo’s statue by the altar.

“Apollo! What manner of evil was this! Answer me!”

A whisper echoed softly in his ear “Not even I know the answers to the secrets of time”

“What do you mean?” he said with a look of horror on his face “You have to know!”

The statue looked down upon him without answer.

Mirio opened his eyes, and pushed himself out of Arnil’s grasp and back onto his feet. He wandered over to the altar where Tad lay, and cupped his brother’s face in his hand.

“Brother, are you okay?”

Tad opened his eyes and softly smiled.

“You can’t beat this one Mirio, this isn’t an opponent you can fight”

“Wait, wait, stay with me. Stay with me”

Tad let out one last whisper “Live your life, don’t waste it chasing an answer” before the shadows within claimed him.