I watch from behind him, squinting at the brightness as a violent storm of hot, red and blue flames shoot violently from him. His fists are clenched so tight at his sides I think he’s probably making himself bleed.
But it seems to be working. The vines make a shrill sound as the flames turn them to dust, and before I know it, the clearing opens.
I drop into a crouch when I realize the flames are traveling along the vines, burning along a dozen different paths back the way we came. I try to throw some water on them, but it doesn’t deter the flames whatsoever. They’re moving too fast.
I look back and see the trail of light grow fainter as it follows the vines, fizzling out where it’s already burned.
Once I turn back around, I find Daegan looking down the tunnel at the retreating flames too, his body moving with deep, heavy breaths.
He looks like the same Daegan. Not someone who shot violent flames from their mouth a moment prior.
I’ve already started walking toward him as he glances at me and nods back at the clearing. He waits for me to reach him, looking over his shoulder a few times, then he takes the lead through the new opening.
It’s narrow for a few steps, then it opens into a large, hollow cavern. I stop and take it in, awestruck.
On the ceiling, a thousand different veins travel through the hard, rocky surface, glowing a brilliant, sparkling white. The room seems to hum with an eerie buzzing sound, almost like something is alive. I follow the trail of veins down the wall on the far side until they stop. At the end, something shiny sticks out of the wall.
“Daegan,” I whisper.
He nods, noticing the same thing. He takes a tentative step closer, and I follow. Then another, and another. And not for the first time, it feels like fate has brought us to this moment. We’re nothing more than vessels, tossed around by the storm of this grand plan.
It’s the hilt of a sword sticking out. I know it.
When he’s standing directly in front of it, he stops, looking at it reverently.
The buzzing seems to be vibrating in my skull now.
I look closer and find the image of a dragon along the handle, crafted in metal. It dances around a red gem.
“Take it,” I say quietly.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Obviously.”
He takes a deep breath, reaches out, and wraps his fingers around the handle.
With the pull of his hand, the sword remains. He pulls again.
Nothing.
Dropping his hand in defeat, he looks at me with some of the hope stolen from his eyes.
“Can I?”
“Be careful,” he whispers.
I place my hand on the sword. It feels cold, yet there’s a mysterious sense of life in the sword. As I expected, nothing happens when I tug.
“Shit,” I curse. “What do we do now?”
Daegan looks deep in thought, so I let him ponder while I look around, hoping for another clue.
There are none.
“Stand back,” Daegan finally says. He shrugs at me. “Worth a shot again. Forged in dragon fire…”
I squint as he makes a much smaller fire this time, aiming directly at the sword and the chunk of wall holding it prisoner. Nothing seems to happen as the flames meet the sword and the wall.
