The Silence of Solitude

Chapter Three

For the first time in his life, Rowan felt warmth. He saw red and orange. Rowan glanced at a sheet of ice that acted like a mirror. He saw the flames dancing in his eyes and was startled, even scared. He had always feared fire, and now flames were coming from him. He didn't understand but didn't have much time to question this new development. A deadly dragon was coming to kill him. As much as he feared the fire, he knew it would be a lot more helpful against a frost dragon than his cryokinesis.

The dragon paused when Rowan limped out from behind the pillar. His eyes now burn red... The dragon thought. Is this what that aura hid from me? The dragon roared again, getting over his shock. The dragon charged Rowan, ready to end this meaningless fight once and for all. The dragon's mouth opened wide, but Rowan stood his ground. He raised his hand and the world seemed to slow for a moment before Rowan let out a torrent of flames. The dragon skidded to a halt, the inside of his mouth burned by the blaze.

Rowan was stunned. He could control fire! Does this make me a pyrokinetic as well as a cryokinetic? He asked himself several questions but ignored them. Now was not the time. As terrifying as it was to be able to wield fire, he could use this to his advantage.

As Rowan lifted his broken sword, he had an idea. His eyes flared red and orange as his sword was engulfed in flames. I might be able to cut the dragon's scales now, he thought. Rowan let out a roar and charged the dragon again. There was no turning back now, he had to end this. Rowan jumped into the air as he got close, narrowly avoiding a swipe the dragon had taken at him. He raised the blade above his head, leaving a blazing trail behind him as he arced downward. The dragon let out a growl of pain as the sword connected with his side. The blade pierced scales and flesh, burning the dragon from the inside. Rowan dragged the blade across the dragon's body as far as possible, but the dragon jumped up into the air, taking off. With that motion, the sword was yanked out of Rowan's hands. 

The dragon was in bad shape. His mouth was burned so badly, that he couldn't use his breath weapon. He had a gash on his side making it hard to fly. Rowan, too, was not doing good. One or more of his ribs were broken. His leg was bleeding profusely. Rowan wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up the fight. Still, he was too close to give up. He had to keep reminding himself of that.

Rowan and the dragon faced each other, both beat up and battered. Rowan closed his eyes for just a moment, but that was all the dragon needed. The dragon dived down, claws outstretched, ready to crush and rip to shreds the pathetic, foolish, and unworthy elf. Rowan opened his eyes again, this time with one eye blazing orange, the other a brilliant blue. Rowan let out a yell, fire and ice flying from either of his hands. The dragon withstood the onslaught and continued his course. Rowan was afraid he couldn't stop him, but he had one last hope of halting the dragon. Rowan switched his focus from the dragon to the ground below it. He created a large ice spike to pierce the dragon in the belly.

The plan half worked. The dragon's underside was not as tough as the rest of his body and was indeed pierced. Still, this didn't stop the dragon's momentum. The dragon crashed to the ground right in front of Rowan. The dragon came to a halt, his head inches from Rowan's.

"You..." The dragon rasped. "Have bested me..." The dragon let out a growl that sounded more like a groan of pain. "Go... Take your prize... You are... worthy..."

Rowan stood there, stunned. He couldn't believe it, he had won! Still... Something left him unsettled. I mean, it's not like I'm uninjured, or it wasn't a difficult battle, but something feels off. Rowan hesitated before limping away from the dragon. He made his way over to the altar where the Dragon Blade stood. He knew this sword went by many names: The Sword of Solitude, the Polar Steel, but most importantly, the Frostburn Blade. Rowan stood at the foot of the altar for a good minute or two. He then reached for the blade and grasped it with both hands.

As soon as his hands touched the weapon, blue fire engulfed the sword. The fire quickly spread to Rowan, blue flames enveloping him. The flames burned, but they burned cold. Rowan let out a scream. He could feel his flesh being burned off. He tried to let go of the sword, but he couldn't seem to move. All he could do was endure the pain or let it consume him.

Is this where I die?