Page 21 of The Last Dragon

The creature was agitated, probably sensing that freedom was within its claws’ reach. As for Cassian… he didn’t look well at all. He, who usually seemed so level-headed, appeared to have lost his mind, standing there facing such a beast while the metallic scent of its blood reached the elf’s nostrils. Tariel, standing in the center of the light well, was desperately searching for a way out.

“Master, it is time to use your magic.” Brynjar’s voice rang out in the elf’s mind like an alarm bell. It was absurd, he thought: he still had no access to his essence.

“Give him what was stolen from him, dear Master.”

A conjunction ritual.

The idea was brilliant, absolutely brilliant, but the problem remained: his magic was still being redirected to the mercenary in dire straits through the handcuffs.

A moment of silence passed, the world momentarily falling silent for the elf, before the idea struck him with full force.

“Cassian, step back and let him break his chains! Come to—”

It all happened very quickly: the griffin snapped its last bonds and attacked, plunging its talons into the mercenary’s flesh as if he were nothing more than a meal, then took flight.

A horrified scream escaped the elf, who had only a moment to decide his fate. There he was, running at full speed toward the beast until he launched himself into the air, through that small well of light, clinging to its paw as if to life itself, letting himself be carried away from the crypt.

His magic returned to him like a breath of fresh air as the three beings rose above the vaulted ceiling, outside of the castle.

The mercenary’s blood flowed freely, staining Tariel’s pale skin, covering his arms, chest, face, and silvery hair. He was filthy, terrified, and far too high off the ground for his liking, but he had no other choice.

He had to take a chance.

With his eyes closed, Tariel probed his soul and aura until he found the channel that was diverting his magic toward Cassian.

His arms trembling with exertion and fear, the elf took a deep breath before casting his spell.

But instead of directing it at the griffin, he aimed it at that very channel, clinging to it with all his might, letting his magic flow through the man he believed to be unconscious.

High in the sky, a colossal runic circle took shape under the power of the elven crystal heart, warm and pulsing in his chest.

The group vanished into a thick mist.

The next second, all three of them were on the ground. Opening his eyes, the elf found himself back in the world he had created from scratch: what he called “the Void.” There he found Brynjar, his horse, and all the other creatures with whom he had formed bonds.

The grass was a vibrant green, while tall oak trees surrounded a lake so blue it almost mirrored the mercenary’s eyes.

This world was shaped according to Tariel’s tastes, dotted with rock formations and wooded areas. Swarms of books and scrolls fluttered among brightly colored birds, while butterflies sipped nectar from eternal flowers.

Here, hunger and thirst did not exist. Nor did fatigue.

Cassian, too, had been transported to this sanctuary, to which normally only Tariel and his familiars had access. Since this place existed only within his soul, the mercenary could feel his body calm down. His blood had stopped flowing and his pain had dissipated; this did not mean he was healed, but rather that time had paused, like a welcome break from the universe.

The griffin was there, too. In this space, it could neither hurt nor kill… only listen.

Trembling, the elf got to his feet, wincing at the sight of the red-stained grass beneath him, then stood facing the beast and took a deep breath to calm his racing heart.

“We didn’t get off on the right foot.”

He felt ridiculous speaking to a griffin that way… but he knew the animal understood him. Not through language, but because they were at the very heart of Tariel’s soul, he communicated his intentions through thought.

Maintaining the presence of three beings foreign to his own summoning bond required a colossal amount of energy. In return, he was using the reverse channel: he was now drawing on Cassian’s strength to stabilize his own world.

The man would understand… surely.

“The world is hostile to you; I understand that. You’ve been held captive, wounded, tortured… We want to give you back your freedom. Here—” the elf spun around, gesturing toward his paradise “—you’ll never go hungry or feel pain again. Both our solutions and our time are limited, my dear: we can strike a deal or kill each other. Do you really want to risk dying—or, worse still, getting captured again?”

Tariel paused, wrapping his arms around himself; he was nervous, uncertain.