A dragon. Asher had heard of the creatures in the old legends, but thought they'd all been killed centuries ago. Yet here one was, standing right in front of him. It prowled around the edge of Rivas' barrier, a savage growl ripping from its throat. Its movements were graceful and fluid, but its muscles rippled with hidden strength.

Asher shifted, and its burning golden eyes flicked towards him. His heart skipped a beat. He'd seen those very same eyes hardly an hour ago. How long had it been here? Was it following him? He searched its gaze for any sign of malice or hunger, but saw something else entirely. Fear? Concern?

"Asher, get out of the way," Rivas said. Asher twisted around; the assassin was watching the creature closely, sword in hand. With a start, he realized he was directly between the Valkir and the dragon.

Asher hesitated: as terrified as he was by the dragon's sudden appearance, he was repulsed at the thought of relying on Rivas for protection.

"Now."

Asher awkwardly pushed himself to his feet, casting a glance back at the dragon. It didn't move, its eyes never leaving him. Asher shivered and stiffly limped away, staying as far from Rivas as he could. He reached the opposite end of the dome and turned around, pressing his back to the invisible wall.

"What are you going to do?" Asher asked, his eyes flicking between the two. He tentatively reached for the magic. The drug, unfortunately, was working again; he could hardly feel it at all. He bit back a curse.

"That depends entirely on what the dragon does," Rivas said calmly.

As if it had heard him, the dragon reared back and rammed its shoulder into the barrier. Rivas grunted and took a step back, as if he'd been hit. He hurriedly waved his hand, and the shield faded away. A fierce blast of wind and rain struck Asher's back, tugging at his clothes.

Asher swore and yanked at his constraints. A battle was about to begin, and he didn't want to be caught in the middle of it unarmed and vulnerable. Rivas glanced at him, perhaps having the same thought, and threw out his hand. Asher yelped as something lifted him into the air and hurled him backwards. He crashed into a tree some distance away and crumpled to the ground, dazed.

The dragon snarled and jumped sideways, placing itself between Rivas and Asher. Both of them stared at it.

Is it . . . protecting me? Asher shook his head. No, that doesn't make any sense.

After a brief pause, Rivas attacked, sweeping his sword in a low arc. The dragon leapt over the blade with ease and lunged at the man's side. Rivas' body wavered, and its claws passed right through him. Before the dragon could react, he slashed at its side, drawing a long, bloody line across its wing.

From that point, Asher had trouble keeping track of the battle. The dragon moved with extraordinary speed; Rivas was in constant motion as he dodged its attacks, his sword glittering in the darkness. Asher could tell the Valkir was using magic--even with the drug, he could sense it humming through the air.

Asher closed his eyes, focusing on that faint feeling. If he could manage to get past the drug and free himself . . .

There. His eyes shot open. The smallest spark of magic. He reached for it, struggling with the barrier in his mind--

The wind abruptly stopped. Asher glanced up at Rivas, wondering if the assassin had done something. He was faced away, still fighting the dragon. He had a deep laceration across his upper arm, and had been forced to switch his sword to his left hand. The dragon seemed injured as well, though its dark scales made it hard for Asher to see where.

Asher frowned and turned his thoughts back inwards. He could sense the magic, but something felt . . . off.

The temperature plummeted; it felt as if the very air had turned to ice. Worried, Asher started to struggle upright, and then fell back down as a searing pain exploded in his head. The wind picked back up, blowing twice as fast.

Only then did he realize what was happening. He hurriedly tried to cut himself away from the magic, but for some reason he couldn't. He could feel its effects--the fatigue, the pain--but couldn't detect himself using it. The drug. It must be the drug. What is it doing to me?

Asher grappled with the magic, trying to stop himself before it went chaotic. A flash of white caught his eye; a thin layer of frost was creeping across the grass at his feet. With a sharp crack, his ropes shattered. Shattered. Like glass. When he looked down, Asher saw that they were frozen through. He took a step back, rubbing his wrists. Should he run? Would he be able to hold the magic back long enough?

A flash of red light flew past his face, inches from his nose. Asher lurched back and saw Rivas staring at him, arm outstretched. The man whirled back around to face the dragon, but Asher had seen the troubled look in the assassin's eyes. He must've noticed what was happening.

He missed. He must be getting tired. Asher growled and clutched his head as a fresh wave of pain chased all thoughts away. Something was definitely wrong with the drug--he had no power over this. His vision blurred, and he nearly fell over.

A few agonizing seconds passed, and then Asher finally snapped. The air seethed with wild energy as a shockwave of swirling, misty power blasted outwards from him. Then the chaos began. The rain froze and was consumed by dark flames, only to be replaced by a downpour unlike anything he'd ever seen. The ice near his feet quickly expanded to cover everything within a dozen yards, turning the forest into a landscape of white. The ground shuddered as if a monster dug beneath it, and the trees around him bent inwards, as if to snatch him from the ground.

The mayhem lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like much longer. When it was finally over, Asher slumped to the ground, gasping for air. A crippling wave of exhaustion washed over him, pressing him into the mud.

Through half-closed eyes, he saw Rivas carefully lower the barrier he'd erected around himself. The man swayed on his feet and pressed a hand to his head. Once he'd regained his balance, he looked to the dragon. It had been forced to take the brunt of the blast, and was just getting to its feet. Faint tremors racked its body.

Rivas raised his sword, gathered his strength, and darted forward. His sword sunk deeply into the dragon's side before it could react. It roared and beat the air with its wings, driving Rivas back.

Time seemed to slow as Asher looked at the blood smeared across the dragon's scales, and then the frightened look in its eyes as Rivas advanced upon it. He'd seen that same defeated, hopeless expression before. Once in her face, many times in his own.

Asher stirred. His muscles felt like they were made of stone and the world flickered before him, but slowly, painfully, he got to his feet.

He didn't know if the dragon wanted to kill him, but if he had truly seen it that morning, it had had plenty of chances to do so already. Rivas, on the other hand . . . whatever he was planning, Asher wanted no part of it. He'd rather take his chances with the dragon.

He touched the magic. It felt dim and strange, but this time he was able to wrestle it into submission. Whatever the drug had done, it seemed to be gone.

Asher focused on Rivas, whose back was turned. At his direction, a large branch lifted from the forest floor and crashed into the man's side. Rivas cried out and fell, pinned under the wood. His eyes landed on Asher, and that stifling pressure returned, so strong Asher couldn't breathe. He choked, and his grip on the magic fell away. Rivas threw the branch off himself and rolled to the side just as the dragon pounced.

As fast as he'd reacted, the dragon was faster. Just before he moved out of reach, it twisted around and slashed at Rivas' sword hand with its claws. Rivas yelled and wrenched his arm away; the sword clattered to the dirt.

Rivas backed away, holding his hand to his chest. Thick, dark blood seeped between his fingers.

Asher took an unsteady step forward, hands raised in case he needed to use magic again. Rivas looked between him and the dragon with narrowed eyes. His expression suddenly hardened, and there was another sharp swell in the magic. Asher flinched and braced himself, but no attack came. A blur of darkness enveloped the assassin, and he vanished from sight.

The dragon growled and spun around, sniffing at the air. Asher kept a close connection with the magic, sure that Rivas was still there, invisible. But he could no longer feel the man's presence. As if to confirm this thought, the dragon relaxed and let out a satisfied snort. Asher let the magic slide out of his grip with a sigh of relief.

The world tilted, and Asher's legs gave way beneath him. Just before he hit the ground, something slipped under his chest and pushed him upright. The dragon's head. Asher flinched back and almost fell over again. He instinctively reached out and grasped the dragon's side to hold himself up. It twitched and twisted around to look at him.

Asher froze, his heart hammering, but it made no move to attack. He carefully let it go and knelt on the ground, trying not to throw up. He hated putting himself in such a vulnerable position, but he didn't trust himself not to fall again. I'm going to kill myself if I keep using magic like this.

He dug his fingers into the soft mud, biting his tongue against the pain. Drops of rain raced down his cheeks, tracing cool lines across his face.

The dragon stepped closer. Asher blinked the water from his eyes and looked up at it.

"What do you want?" he asked weakly.

The dragon blinked and turned away. It took a few steps to the north and looked back at him. It flicked its tail, as if to motion him forward.

Asher stared at it and forced himself to stand. He pressed a hand to his spinning head and looked around warily. There was still no sign of Rivas.

He took a step towards the dragon, wobbled, took another step. It moved to his side, and he leaned against its neck for support, forgetting all caution in his tired haze. The dragon easily took his weight and started guiding him forward.

Asher lowered his head, trying to blink away the darkness in his peripheral vision. "I really hope you're not going to eat me," he mumbled.

The dragon flicked its ear and quickened its pace. Asher limped along as best he could, letting the creature guide him into the blackest depths of the forest. He could only pray he was making the right choice.