The usual murmur of conversation filled the underground cavern. The elderly sorcerers, bound to their task, found solace in idle chatter. Their thoughts often drifted to Flora, the lone sorceress in the palace.
“How do you think Flora’s holding up?” one of them asked.The question opened the floodgates, and the others joined in eagerly.
“She was never one to leave a task unfinished,” another replied.
“Never. If anything, she’d go above and beyond,” said a third.
“The spell itself won’t falter,” an elder muttered grimly. “But the aftermath… that’s the real concern.”
Their words trailed off, replaced by a heavy silence. Though none voiced it directly, the truth hung between them: Flora’s drive and pride often led her into trouble.
“What can you do when she refuses to listen?”
Mara, reclining lazily with his head propped on one arm, scoffed at their collective worry. His dry comment earned a chorus of resigned sighs. His words, blunt as they were, echoed the frustrations they all shared.
They had warned Flora countless times, both subtly and directly. Early in her training, they had quickly discerned her nature. She was ambitious, undeniably gifted, and startlingly quick to learn. But those same traits were shadowed by impatience, self-pity, and an almost obsessive need to prove herself. It wasn’t talent she lacked, but the emotional maturity and self-discipline required of a true sorcerer.
Despite their frustrations, their concern for Flora was genuine. They had tried reasoning with her, guiding her, even outright dissuading her from pursuing reckless paths. For a time, she had listened, nodding obediently as if she understood. But near the end of her training, her facade had cracked.
That day, tears welling in her eyes, she’d pleaded, “Why don’t you trust me? Am I truly so unworthy?”
Faced with Flora’s wounded gaze, the elders had been unable to oppose her any longer. Her conviction, though reckless, had a way of breaking down their resistance. And in truth, even they couldn’t guarantee the spell’s outcome. As much as they feared disaster, they couldn’t deny the slim possibility that Flora might succeed spectacularly.
“You fool! Why didn’t you go yourself?” one of the elders suddenly shouted, his voice rising above the quiet murmurs.
Mara, startled from his languid posture, sat up abruptly and shot back, “Why bring up old news? That’s just proof your mind’s gone soft with age.”
The elder, caught off guard by her sharp retort, stammered, “Your sharp tongue grows worse by the day.”
“And who do you think I learned it from?”
“From us?”
“Who else?”
“Enough. There’s no point in talking to you,” the elder muttered, turning away with a grumble.
Another elder, who had been observing silently, addressed Mara in a grave tone.
“You know your mortal enemy could be gone by the end of the day, yet you act so indifferent.”
“The kings are hunting that thing. Why should I concern myself?” Mara replied with a shrug.
The elder’s frown deepened. “I still remember the day we first met. Back then, you were relentless. You seemed like you’d stop at nothing to kill that monster in the palace. You even roamed the lands pulling cons, all in the name of finding a way to destroy it.”
“That thing would’ve come after me eventually,” Mara said, his voice taking on an edge. “I had no choice but to strike first.”
“So you’re saying that if a truce had been possible, you would’ve considered it?”
Mara didn’t respond immediately. His lips pressed into a thin line, and after a pause, he muttered under his breath, “That would never happen. That thing would betray any truce in an instant. No one knows it better than I do.”
The elder narrowed his eyes. “Don’t evade the question! Hypothetically, if a truce were possible—”
“Why do you keep—” Mara’s voice rose, irritation sharpening his tone. But he didn’t finish. In an instant, he vanished, his form dissolving like smoke into the air.
The elders exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of annoyance and resignation.
“There he goes again,” one of them muttered, clicking his tongue. “Running off the moment his words fail him.”
“Typical,” another elder added with a shake of his head.
Meanwhile, an elder seated near the edge of the cavern, his gaze drifting idly over the intricate spellwork etched into the stone floor, tilted his head.
“Am I seeing things, or have my old eyes finally given out?” he murmured to no one in particular.
The glowing patterns of the spell seemed to ripple faintly, like light refracted through water. Squinting, the elder leaned closer, trying to discern if the phenomenon was real or a trick of his failing vision. The subtle shimmer persisted, unsettling in its unnatural rhythm.
Far below the cavern, beneath the depths of the lake nestled at the base of the rocky mountain, a massive black shape began to stir. Coiled tightly at the lake’s bottom, the creature shifted, its immense form unfurling like a serpent uncurling from slumber.
As it moved, two glowing crimson eyes emerged from the darkness. The pupils contracted vertically, sharp and predatory, slicing through the gloom like blades. A shudder rippled through the water, sending waves of silent menace upward, as the beast prepared to rise.
Ramita?
The sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt—indescribably intoxicating. It wasn’t an aroma in the traditional sense, yet no other word could capture its essence more accurately.
Mara had locked himself away for countless years, driven to conceal himself from Mahar’s unrelenting pursuit. In that time, he had suppressed his very existence, forcing himself into a state where his body remained trapped, while his mind stayed awake. To maintain such a delicate balance demanded the complete suppression of his senses—an excruciating feat enforced by magic.
His body, deprived of life for what felt like eternity, was a withered, parched thing, like a tree starved of water. But now, suddenly, Ramita’s sweetness filled the void, pouring over him in waves. His instincts, long dormant, recoiled and yet, at the same time, hungrily reached out to devour it.
No!
Despite his mental resistance, Mara’s body betrayed him. His instincts didn’t just reject Ramita—they threw open the doors to sensation. What had once been a rigid, unyielding form began to soften, the stone-like stiffness dissolving as his awareness of his body surged back into existence.
If this continues, the spell will break…!
Desperation clawed at his mind. Mara tried to sever his connection to his physical form, but no matter how fiercely he pushed, he couldn’t return to the illusionary state he had so carefully crafted for so long.
Snap. The breaking sound echoed through his mind. Each fracture pulled at the foundation he had so painstakingly built. With every rupture, dormant sensations flooded back into his awareness. Mara realized, with grim clarity, that there was no turning back now.
When his eyes finally opened, he saw the pitch-black expanse of the lake’s bottom. The image shifted slowly as his gaze followed the movement, but it was an effort he hadn’t had to make in ages. The weight of his body felt unfamiliar, heavier than he remembered.
No…!
The spell had shattered. He was unbound now—completely free.
A primal roar erupted from his throat, raw and desperate, a sound that seemed to claw its way from deep within. The lake’s waters absorbed the noise, sending rippling waves outward. Moments later, a deafening boom reverberated through the air, shaking the very mountain above him.
