The Death of Magic

Chapter 25: Chapter 25: The Dragon Wakes


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The sweet scent of Saoirse's magic, heightened by her awakening, now filled with subtle hints of cinnamon and nutmeg, citrus and elderberry, meandered down through deep cracks in the earth. Undefiled by the dank odor of sulfur, it tickled the synapses of the dragon goo floating on the surface of the bubbling lava. Her magic, refusing to decompose in the heat, sparkled in the harsh, choking smoke. Nostrils formed. Hunger, long denied, surged.

The dragon's brain coalesced. It sniffed; it breathed. Taking in the microscopic bits of magic, its nostrils quivered in anticipation. For the joy of salivating, its tongue formed.

Reason spoke. “We must plot and plan.”

“NO! I'll not dally. I'll have her in my belly today!”

“If we err, we die.”

The beast's body formed. Its great tail thrashed against the confines of the pit. Raising its snout, it roared, the sound jarring loose boulders, collapsing a portion of the cave's roof.

“Know first the lay of the land,” Reason whispered. “Send the witch.”

 


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