Heaven's Light (Book 1)

Chapter 20 - Jeriah

I felt grateful being isolated in the library, no other guild members around me to distract from the task at hand. Not only that, but I was finally able to research something I truly wanted to delve myself into:

The history of the eternally revered dragons.

Being as we were already sent home to rest from the raid by Master's orders through Virdigo, they couldn't stop me from investigating a subject of my own accord on my own time. The only bad thing about this situation was less sleep for me, which would only be spent having vivid nightmares about dragons and demons. Not really the best way to spend a night anyway.

I had already gathered up a stack of books from before. Since I was sifting through the Forthbrook collection for Praeceptor information, I took the liberty of setting aside any books I came across regarding dragons just for afterward. Luckily, nobody noticed me doing so. I wouldn't want any of my guild members aware of my personal investigation out of fear of finding something too dangerous to share with others. I had to take extra caution, for I had no idea exactly what I was getting myself into.

It was the night of the second day on this raid, the day we were reminded of the Heaven's Light massacre. I hated reliving that day, but sometimes, I felt like I owed it to my fallen friends to remember the day just for them, so I could remind myself of the valor they had shown to us. Those fallen warriors were the people I strived to become myself, to ensure the safety of the guild I had grown to call home. They protected the guild by paying the ultimate price; the least I could do was fight tirelessly to do the same.

"Alright, Jeriah," I said aloud. "It's about time we researched the exact history behind your father and his family."

Now, being a Legendary didn't incorporate being taught full knowledge of everything. There wasn't a set curriculum for the dragons to teach the kids they had the kindness to show their hospitality for. Some dragons taught their students more humane ideas, while others taught their children all about the dragon ancestry and how they lived.

My father, Duisternis, was kind of a dunce.

I never took pride in the fact that he was my father as much as the fact I was trained by a dragon. The dragon himself was incredibly empty-minded. He never knew anything about teaching humans except the English language. Beyond that, all he did was teach me how to control my magical energy and channel it into the form of shadow magic. When I left him, it was because he told me he had nothing left he knew to teach me, so I came back to my original country to learn more about life. I never really held a grudge against my father, but I never held amazing respect for him.

Of course, everything I knew could very well change after a little bit of research.

The very first book I chose from the top of my tall stack of literature was very old and held hand-written notes from an old wizard. There was nothing inside the book indicating an owner, but it was obvious that the notes inside were all notes on the dragons. There was nothing indicating how accurate it was, though.

As I flipped through the yellowed parchment pages, I read many different headings that were set in alphabetical order, all titles of the magical creatures. I stopped turning the page when I read my father's name: "Duisternis, the Keeper of the Void".

"Oh, right. I forgot what his title was," I grumbled. "He never stopped reminding me about how the human's regarded him."

The note page seemed to be written in a certain format: name, title, magical form, scale degree of lethality, and a general description.

Obviously, Duisternis' magical form was shadow magic, but this wizard rated his lethality level as a five out of ten. A five out of ten.

"That really hurts my ego," I groaned. "Leave it to me to be raised by a wimpy dragon."