Chapter 25 (Fire Drake)

I awoke to the piercing screeches echoing through the rocky terrain. Menelaus laid peacefully asleep nearby, undisturbed by the distant turmoil. Curios, I stood up and check where the noise was coming from.

I cautiously made my way down the cliffside, guided by the haunting cries that grew louder with each step. At the base, illuminated by the faint glow of molten lava, a pack of Magma Hounds, surrounded a young Fire Drake barely larger than a cat. The youngling's wings, though vestigial and not yet fully formed for flight, twitch involuntarily as it tries to push itself upright in an attempt to fly, only managing few inches above the ground and fell back. Rubbles from the cliff above lay scattered around them, as the youngling struggled desperately against its aggressors. It must have fallen off of its nest at the mouth of the volcano where Firedrakes usually raise their brood.

Menelaus's words about choosing battles wisely echoed in my mind. "This is not your fight. Turn around and go back to sleep. This is just how nature works, you either eat or get eaten." I told myself repeatedly. Despite knowing this—I couldn't stand by and watch.

As the first hound leaped and pounced into the youngling, I used earth magic to create protrusions from the ground which threw the hound off-balance. I was not hoping for anything really, I know that the lame attempt wouldn't fend off a hungry pack of fiery dogs. The hounds remained undeterred but I managed to drew their attention towards me.

Realizing I was now their target, I swiftly scooped up the injured Fire Drake in my arms and sprinted away, the hounds hot on our trail. Despite my efforts to evade them, the relentless pursuit eventually cornered us. Surrounded and with nowhere left to run, I prepared for a desperate stand.

I hurled boulders of rocks at the advancing hounds but they darted with lightning speed, their movements fluid and unpredictable as it closed in on us. The alpha, cunning and fierce, outmaneuvered both my defenses and offensives with alarming agility. In a heartbeat, it lunged towards me, its jaws snapping menacingly, poised to tear me apart.

As I braced for the inevitable, a thunderous roar shattered the night sky. A colossal figure descended from the clouds; a shadow of its massive wings covered the ground I stood upon—a fully grown Fire Drake. Its scales glinted like molten lava as it effortlessly plucked the Magma Hounds one by one, hurling them into the churning magma river below.

The alpha, despite its size and ferocity, met its end swiftly at the claws of the Fire Drake. The remaining hounds, cowed by the demise of their leader, scattered into the darkness.

I released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. The Fire Drake turned its attention to me. Its fiery eyes bore into mine, assessing me with a mix of curiosity and wariness. With deliberate movement, I gently lowered the youngling to the ground, demonstrating my peaceful intentions.

The young Fire Drake hesitated, then reluctantly made its way back to its mother's side. The adult Fire Drake regarded me with a penetrating gaze, its hot breath brushing against my face like a scorching wind. I spoke softly, reassuring it of my good intentions. It emitted a resounding roar, that made my bones clunk in fear before it soared into the night sky. I sunk on the ground as I felt the danger had passed. "Fuckkk….fuckkkity….fuck! When will you ever learn you stupid, pig-headed idiot!" I told myself.

Exhausted and shaken, I returned to our campsite. Menelaus was still fast asleep, no care in the world. I laid down, attempting to rest but finding sleep elusive until the first light of dawn touched the rugged peaks of Embercrag.

We resume the grueling training the following morning as the first rays of sunlight filtered through a haze of smoke and ash that bathed the landscape in a reddish glow. Menelaus wasted no time as we broke camp.

 "Today, we push your limits," Menelaus declared. "Only by testing the edge of your endurance will you truly master the fire."

The first trial was a test of endurance indeed. Menelaus instructed me to summon and sustain a continuous stream of fire. The heat was intense, a searing wave that pressed against my skin and drew sweat in rivulets down my back.

"Focus, Erik," Menelaus urged as I struggled to maintain my form. "Feel it flow in your veins, igniting every cell in your body, but do not let it consume you." At this point, I really wished Menelaus to be done with the metaphors already as I'm so full hearing poetic instructions that if I puke, it'd be the colors of the rainbow.

Hours passed, the sun climbing higher in the sky, and my muscles burned with the effort of keeping up. My vision blurred, spots dancing at the edges, but I gritted my teeth and pushed on, determined not to falter.

Next came the trial of control. Menelaus erected a series of targets—rock formations at varying distances—and commanded me to direct precise bursts of flame to each. The first few attempts were wild and uncontrolled, scorching the ground and missing the targets entirely.

"Breathe, Erik," Menelaus reminded me, his tone firm yet encouraging. "Inhale, focus, and then release. Precision comes from calm, not from force."

I steadied my breath, drawing upon the lessons of patience and restraint. Each burst of flame grew more accurate, striking far targets with increasing precision until I could hit the mark more than I failed.

As the sun dipped towards the horizon, casting Embercrag in a crimson glow, Menelaus introduced the final trial: a test of resilience. He conjured a whirlwind of fire, a tempest that roared and crackled with ferocious energy. My task was to stand within it, to remain grounded and unyielding amidst the inferno.

"The firestorm will test your limits," Menelaus warned, his eyes locked onto mine. "But remember, you are the master of the flame. Do not let it break you."

The firestorm enveloped me, a roaring discord of heat and light. My skin prickled, my breath came in ragged gasps, but I stood firm, drawing upon my previous image of weakness, the many times I ran, both from my enemies and myself. Time seemed to stretch, each second an eternity, but I held my ground, bending the flames to my will, or at least preventing me from being toasted.

When the firestorm Menelaus conjured finally subsided, I collapsed to my knees, my body trembling with exhaustion.

"You have done well, Erik," he said, his voice warm with approval. "You have faced the baptism of fire. You are ready for the next stage of your training."

I looked up at him, my chest heaving with the effort of catching my breath. "What comes next, how to not drown in water or how to stop breathing altogether?" He laughed, only that I wasn't kidding. I seriously thought he's trying to kill me out of exhaustion.

"The Hovering Mountains," Menelaus replied, his gaze turning towards east, to the distant peaks that floated like islands in the sky. "There, you will learn to command the air—. But for now, rest. You have earned it."