Drakon

ghost town

{📜t e r r i s   h u n t e r📜}

I frowned. "What do you mean, taken?" I cocked my head, and Adara looked vaguely curious.

Mayor Erdman made a series of hand movements. "Gone. Poof."

Suddenly, things clicked together. Kia was talking about taking something out of her mind and into reality. Maybe- She's more of a try-hard than you think, Adara interjected. Hmm. That was debatable.  But possible.

"I'll go to the castle myself." I decided. "Perhaps excavating something like this needs a more delicate touch. Not the blazing flames of it a fire dragon. Not the craftsmanship and solidity of an earth dragon. Something fluid and flexible like the presence of a water dragon. Not that I am one. But being Drakon-touched does the same thing."

"Did you just call me-"

"Yes I did, Mayor. Some things spoken plainly in truth are the best, and I was never on to abstain from brutal honesty. Now, if you are not that troubled, I have a town to find. Adara?"

What, no title for me? She joked. Come on. I'll take you there, but I sure as hell am not staying. The spirits, the ghosts in these ruins... Well, I have my own haunted past to mourn. I don't need an entire civilization of the one of the most powerful dragons that ever roamed the lands to remind me.

I hopped on, and Adara roared, launching into the sky. Sure, I could fly, but riding on a dragon is always a safer option for me. As she descended, I shielded my eyes from the windy currents that brought up sand and dirt and gravel from the ruins, and I stared at what was both a masterpiece and a work of horror.

What had once probably been a beautiful castle had been turned into a pile of ash and rubble. If I remembered correctly, the Silverra Castle had been destroyed, then burnt to the ground. The foundations of the castle barely stood, crumbling and collapsing. Years of abandonment had left it eroded by the wind and the rain. Adara landed several feet away. You're on your own now. This place is freaking me out already.

"Thanks." I muttered. "Bye!" The flapping of wings followed. I was on my own. I spotted a hole, barely big enough for me to squeeze through. Somehow, I managed. Grabbing a piece of spare rubble, I pulled myself in with an oof. It turned into putty in my hands. Concentrating harder, it vaporized. I yelped, struggling to keep it together.  It dropped to the ground, a block of stone once more.  I sighed. "Anémos!"

The winds carried me up, and I closed my eyes, concentrating hard on my surroundings. "Anichnévoun." I uttered my command, and everything around me began to sharpen. My eyes shot open, everything suddenly infinitely clear. I gasped as the magic filled my body, my eyes, seeping through my skin... Layer upon layer of reality appeared before my eyes and they began to water from the input as I scanned the layers of reality. The realm of warlock magic, its dark red hue still heavily settled like blood on the ruins. The realm of magery, where I could see the tendrils supporting me in my flight, connecting to my ring and then to my mind as I was allowed the honor of seeing so clearly the beauty of this place.

The realm of time, where I watched the castle be rebuilt, and then destroyed, and then rebuilt again, over eons as the silver dragons endured attacks from the other kingdoms, seeing the cheerful lives of the psychics so many years ago before tragedy came to pass. I was right- the castle had been beautiful, purple and silver banners waving from turrets, violet flowers and thick ivy curing up the towers like a dragon curled around a tree, a place of bustling trade and powerful dragons.

And then it was the realm of the dead.

The moment that layer was piled on, the layering stopped, revealing the simple truth: death was the deepest and final realm of magic, because that is when all the magic leaves a living being. Be it animal, dragon, plant or human, everything had a sliver of potential to encase magic. The realm of the death appeared as a shroud of black mist, and slowly the mist became shadows, and the shadows became figures.