She snapped her fingers. Everything plunged into darkness. When Ronnie and Illyseh opened their eyes, they saw they were in a throne room several miles long with ceilings of unimaginable height. In the very center lay a dragon with shingles of metallic color, spikes on its chest, horns on its head, wings, and claws of golden colors. It groaned in pain. Airemilme called it name Glossplakla. Illyseh stood before it, and against his backdrop the healer seemed like a bedbug. Ronnie was a dozen feet away, shackled in black bars.

There were three more dragons in the hall. The leftmost one was smaller than the others, its scales black, its face sad. Its name was Laerare. The white one in the center was Lossigell, reserved and majestic. The most right one both of them had already seen was the lava dragon Yulmerotto, its appearance as if it screamed that this creature had survived several universes, had known death and life, and that whatever happened here and now, it would hardly surprise it, at worst sadden it. Airemilme approached Illyseh and said:

“The events of that day rolled over and over in my mind. It was the first time I understood what love was.”

“I don’t have to fight?”

“You need to do what your heart tells you to do.”

Illyseh walked over to Glossplakla and touched its belly and used an analysis spell. His insides were being eaten away by black magic. It had already affected most of its muscular system: the erect tail muscle, the thigh muscles, the rectus abdominis muscle, the supraspinous muscle. Most of the bones in the limbs were about to crumble, the radius bone of the wing seemed to have rotted away.

In the dragon’s subcutaneous veins flowed powerful magic of light. It resisted the spread of infection like white blood cells in the blood, but its strength was not enough. Internal organs such as the liver, kidneys, intestines, and pancreas were failing. The filth was coming closer and closer to its lungs and heart. Illyseh looked at Airemilme and was about to say something, but she beat him to it:

“You have no right to fail, priest. The purity of your heart will show you the way, and your love of the light will give you strength.”

He concentrated the mana in his palms and endowed it with the element of light and felt a strong tingling sensation. Illyseh released into the dragon’s body over 80% of the concentrated magic. Ronnie noticed the process resembled a blood transfusion. It might work, he thought. Yet the healer quickly realized that it was a drop in the ocean. His mana was clearly in short supply.

“Damn,” he said. “It’s dying too fast.”

“Illyseh,” shouted Ronnie, “don’t even think about losing!”

“Yep.”

The new “analysis” showed the exact location of all the affected organs. He made small incisions in the skin and suck the black magic like poison into small magical bubbles, but it was too slow as well. The filth was already getting close to the esophagus. Next point would be lungs, heart, and eventually death. The dragon let out an exasperated roar and lowered its head to the floor.

Illyseh snapped his fingers and sank into a state of meditation. Airemilme and Ronnie observed him carefully.

“Try to destroy the filth in the same way that you killed the dark creatures.”

“Don’t bother me with your idiocy! These are combat spells; they’ll tear his insides to pieces.” Illyseh’s eyes suddenly flickered, “but... you gave me an idea. I don’t know if it’ll work though...”

The healer used the ‘Kyrie Eleison’ spell on himself and turned his body into a vessel for absorption, then he absorbed the filth through his touch. This method drew out the dark magic much faster than the previous one, but Illyseh’s body could barely stand the strain. His eyes turned purple, his skin turning gray and black. Ronnie recognized the forest traps’ signature.

Illyseh cleared his esophagus and used the ‘Transformation Into Light’ spell and released the stored energy to the side. However, some of the dark magic hit his insides. A stream of blood flowed from his nose. There was no turning back now, he thought, and continued his ritual. With each new round, he got worse. On the fifth round, his left arm gave out. On the eighth, his breathing became hoarse. Illyseh shook as if he had been electrocuted. His legs buckled, he fell, his right arm stayed down.

“Too many parts of the body are affected,” he whined and continued.

When he cleared the organs, the muscles and bones remained. The healer pulled the curse from the radius bone, but at that moment, he realized there was no way he could cope with that amount of work. His body went limp, he fell, and the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was Ronnie’s screams, so distant and indistinct, they seemed otherworldly, insignificant, like a mild auditory hallucination.

A couple of hours later, Illyseh opened his eyes. He was in the same throne room, Ronnie sitting next to him with his head bowed, Airemilme standing behind him, and a dead dragon lying in front of him. The healer struggled to rise and looked at his hands, skin black, bubbling with dark magic.

“How are you feeling?” Ronnie asked.

“I feel like I’ve been dipped in a barrel of boiling tar.”

“Toffril, Zoroink, get ready,” said Airemilme and clasped her hands together, and the space turned back to blackness.

Keeper, Priest

A moment later, the three of them found themselves in the forest as ghosts. Ronnie and Illyseh saw the scene in which the dragon hands Airemilme the amulet. It glowed with fire, blazing like a supreme goddess of the Sun.

“It’s the same as mine,” Ronnie said.

“The deed of transfer.”

When the scene was over, they were transported to stellar space, where Airemilme was sitting on a heavenly throne, clapping her hands.

“Congratulations,” she said.

“I failed the test,” Illyseh said.

Airemilme smiled and answered him:

“Only by entering the darkness can one get deliverance. You, the priest, will sacrifice yourself to save another. What is this if not love? For this feat, your light will henceforth shine brighter, and the darkness has served a good purpose. Keeper, henceforth, your authority has no bounds, nor does your power. I bestow upon you the title of “Chosen.” It will endow you with an aura that will dispel the weak- and medium-level spells of all elements directed directly at you. You will feel it, as you will feel all that you have learned during our battle. Now for the knowledge. The amulet serves not only as protection against dark magic and curses but also as the key to the heart of this world. But only dragons know where it is, for they are the first keepers. Protect this gift at the cost of your life. One last thing... the dragon’s language is, from now on, your primary weapon in negotiations and spells. It will refine your magical skills with a power you have never felt before, and the tongue will persuade any inhabitant of my people to obey your command. Now it is time to say goodbye; my purpose is fulfilled, and I am no longer needed.”

Ronnie and Illyseh bowed and thanked her. Airemilme smiled back at them. Darkness set in.