Tales Made.

Michael explains the circumstances that led him to this point, the Hunt, Charlotte's betrayal, and then dying...

"I'm not sure if I'm envious or grateful that I didn't get a second chance to live again. For you it might just be a curse..." The Wyvern remarks after hearing his tale, deciding not to broach the still raw subject of betrayal. She herself had been betrayed in the most terrible manner possible, so she understood what he feeling right about now, and pity isn't what he needed at all.

Michael shrugs, "If I die you guy's all go with me, so. I guess there's the plus side to it..." he says, trying to find the silver lining of literally being sent to hell and tortured for eternity...

"Perhaps it would be for the best?" Auroth says.

"Maybe..."

...

"There is only ten minutes left until time resumes, Michael..." Auroth suddenly says, bringing the resting Michael back to reality.

"I know... Maybe I can push my consciousness into another Spirit's world before I die?... Will I even come back if I die again? Dagon has my soul regardless..."

"Again, would you even wish to come back?"

"I don't know. I still have things to do, so the chance of eventually escaping Dagon is enough, I think..."

Auroth lets out a solemn sigh as she pulls herself from the ground. "There may be a way for me to further help you. But I am unsure if it would work."

Michael perks up, "Really?"

She nods, "Potentially... Have you ever heard the tale of Sir Davion and Slyrak?"

Michael shakes his head, he had no idea about the tales and traditions of the Dota world.

The wyvern continues, "It's a story of the Dragon Knight, who slew Slyrak and bathed in each other's lifeblood, gaining the Dragon's abilities and spirit." she says and Michael figures out just where she's going with this.

"A-are you sure? You're not even a dragon though?"

She nods her head, "I am aware, but I am the strongest among my kind, stronger than even some dragons. I believe that it may work, or may not. Either way, if it works you will gain power enough to resist your torment, saving the other Spirits from eternal slumber. I will die either way so, this is a good way to go..."

...

"Auroth, are you absolutely sure about this? We don't know what cou-" Michael starts but gets clipped by the Wyvern's wing.

"Enough, I've made my decision." she says as she raises herself over Michael. "And... If you could, please write of this. Like the tale of Sir Davion and Slyrak, nothing would make me more content." she says while giving a strange but gentle smile.

"I promise."

She nods, "Then it's farewell, Michael." she says before summoning a large sharp icicle and jabbing it into her scaled neck, causing many litres of to fall upon Michael.

Michael himself cuts many wounds along his body so that the melding of their blood could occur. Unfortunately for him, he'd underestimated the intensity of Auroth's lifeblood. His body instantly begins freezing over as the blood hits him.

"Highk!" He groans as the blood gains a life of its own and streams over his body, forcefully crawling its way into his veins.

After a moment of this, he feels as if something was clawing at his heart, dragging ice-cold nails across and into it.

His skin pales a stark white and his eyes begin glowing a bright turquoise colour, similar to that of Auroth.

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Five minutes pass when Michael is finally freed, he falls on his face and exhaustedly rolls onto his back, his very breath freezing the air before him.

After a few more moments of gathering his composure, he rolls onto his front and gets up, but pauses when he notices his reflection on the icy floor.

His skin was now a pale white, and his dirty blue hair had slight tinges of turquoise on the ends of them. His canines were slightly elongated, his eyes were now slitted, and glowed a light blue...

"It worked... Auroth it wor-" he starts but his words peter out as he looks over at the lifeless body of Auroth. Her eyes were glazed over and a large frozen puddle of blood laid underneath her, the wound on her neck still trickling slightly with blood.

"Auroth..." he sadly mutters, walking over and resting a hand on her scaled face. "Damn bookworm, you just have to be the hero!?... Maybe I, I could have...?" he trails off, knowing that there was nothing else he could have done. Auroth's decision was her own, so he'd honour it as a good friend should.

"I'm sorry." he whispers, "I guess it's time to face the fire now, eh? Time's up." he mutters, knowing that he'd be thrown out of the world and back into torment in a couple seconds.

Then, it happens.

"GRRRRAGH!" Michael growls as time resumes and he's forced to endure the magma again... Only, this time he felt he could do something about it.

He could feel the changes in his mana, and quickly pulls on it, as if it were water and he was a man trapped in the desert.

A shimmer covers his body as an icy shield manifests, creating a layer between him and the magma surrounding him. His mana is drained rapidly by it, but it's enough for him to finally start taking action against this torture Dagon decided to inflict on him.

He reaches up, digging his hand through the viscous liquid stone and grabs what he could only call a handhold, pushing himself up as if he were buried under custard. What he was doing couldn't be called swimming, climbing perhaps, but certainly not swimming.

He continues to clamber through the magma, his icy shield stopping him from burning, but as he travels, his mana continues to drain... Half of it was already gone and yet he was still ascending... Just how far did Dagon put him under!?