“But then how—”
I grinned rakishly at him. “I’m Sam of Dragons. Do you really think I’d let something like that stop me? You said it yourself. My magic seems limitless. And it’s what would extend my life. What the Great White didn’t realize was that by teaching me control, to harness everything that was bursting from my lightning-struck heart, he gave me the tools to do it myself. You and Morgan always told me that I was the most powerful wizard in an age. I don’t know if that’s true. But I do have enough power in me to stop it from extending my life. I am a wizard, Randall. But I will age, just like my parents. Like the King. And Justin. And Ryan. We’ll grow old together. And should one of us cross the veil before the other, it can be done with the knowledge that we’ll soon be together again.”
He looked stunned. “You made yourself mortal.”
I shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll have a few years tacked on at the end, but my magic doesn’t control me. I control it. I’m a puppet to no one. It wasn’t easy, and gods, did it hurt, but… it’ll be worth it. I think. In the end.”
Randall shook his head slowly. “You stupid, wonderful boy.”
I laughed. “The Great White wasn’t too happy with me when he found out. But, eh. What can you do.”
“And what of Kevin? And Tiggy? Gary?”
My smile faded a little at that. “They will have each other. And a lifetime of memories. Because a life lived is a life worth remembering, no matter how long or short it may be. Myrin has forgotten that. The Great White has too. But I haven’t. I will live my life as best I can. I’m going to kick some villain ass, I’m going to fuck some shit up, and then I’m going to live, Randall. And no one, not you, not the Great White, not the gods, can say otherwise. I’m in control of my own destiny. My path may have been set in stone, but stone crumbles, and sometimes we have to forge our own way through.”
He watched me for a long time, stock-still, gaze searching. Eventually he sighed and shook his head. “You’re a pain in my ass.”
“Oh, please. Like that’s ever going to change. Dude, you’re stuck with me now. We’re wizard bros.”
“We are not wizard bros.”
“Such wizard bros. Face it, Randall. I’m a wizard, you’re a wizard, and we’re bros. Therefore, wizard bros.”
“I despise everything about you.”
“We both know that’s not true.”
He glared at me. “What you’ve done shouldn’t even be possible.”
I shrugged. “Pretty much describes everything about me, though, right?”
The skin under his eye twitched.
“Now,” I said, clapping my hands, “as fun as this chat has been, I think it’s time for the cheese and butt sex, so I’m just gonna—”
“Open your pack and take out the Grimoires.”
“Godsdammit,” I muttered. But I did as he asked. The tomes were heavy and felt jittery against my hands, like they were radiating energy. My own felt familiar and light, the pages known to me. Myrin’s was dark and heavy, a rotten mystery whispering in my ears.
Morgan’s felt like comfort and home. It was his I’d avoided the most.
“If you want to defeat Myrin,” Randall said, “the answers lie within these pages.”
I frowned at him. “That sounded suspiciously like something Vadoma would say. Be more specific, please.”
He looked like he barely stopped himself from reaching out and slapping me upside the head. “What is a wizard’s Grimoire?”
“Their history,” I said promptly. “The story of their lives. Their triumphs and failures, their magic and their innermost thoughts. Even though you give me shit for putting my innermost thoughts in mine.”
“That’s because yours are done in sparkly pink pens and usually have to do with how firm Ryan Foxheart’s buttocks are.”
“Yeah,” I sighed dreamily. “Like, you can bounce stuff off of it. Trust me, I have.”
“Most other wizards have an emotional maturity that doesn’t allow them to write Mrs. Sam Foxheart in the margins.”
“I pity them immensely.”
“Be that as it may, if you hope to find the way to defeat Myrin, then here is where you must look. You have the magic, Sam. You have the dragons. Now it’s time to formulate a plan.”
“How do you know I don’t already have a plan?”
He stared at me.
“Right, right. It’s me we’re talking about. Sucks, dude.”
“You should start with Morgan’s. He would… I told you he knew. That day.”
I nodded, swallowing past the sudden lump in my throat.
Randall averted his gaze, suddenly looking very tired. “I think, in the end, he knew what was coming. What he was doing. What was going to happen. And I know you blame yourself, Sam. For what happened. But your guilt is unfounded. Or at the very least, misplaced. Morgan of Shadows chose you because he loved you more than anyone or anything else in this world.”
My eyes were stinging and wet. There was nothing I could do to stop it.
Randall’s hands shook. “I know that if called upon, he would do it again. And again. And again, because more than anything, he believed in you. He believed that good would always conquer evil, that the light would always burn away the shadows. He made a choice that day, Sam. He chose you. And I think he always would.”
I hung my head. Tears dripped onto his Grimoire in my lap.
“Turn to page five hundred and twenty-seven in Morgan’s Grimoire, if you please. Read what is written, and then join me outside. It’s time we reunite a unicorn with his horn. Gods only know how that’s going to go.”
He lifted himself from his chair, knees popping as he grumbled about being far too old for this shit. There was a brief moment as he passed me by when he put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed.
And then he was gone.
The house was quiet around me.
The fire was nothing but charred wood and tendrils of smoke.
I—
“—THINK IT’S time for me to return,” I said as the Great White loomed above me. The others were there but not there at the same time, lost in the haze, the colors of the forest bleeding around me like wet paint. I felt them, their little pinpricks of light, bright and strong. The bonds between us had grown from the first day I’d entered the forest, grief-stricken and blinded by tears. I carried them within me, each of them pulsing and reverberating within me.
“Do you?” GW asked. “Why?”
“Because I’m ready.”
“What is your plan for Myrin?”
I waved a hand dismissively at him. “I’ll figure it out on the way. I’m good at making shit up on the fly. You know how it is.”
“You’re not ready.”
“You said that to me before. And yet here I am, all magically juiced up with five different dragons floating around in my head. I’m pretty sure I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
He rumbled his displeasure. “You know the risks.”
“Yeah. You’ve drilled them into my head a billion times. Death, destruction, the end of the world. It kind of loses its urgency when you’re always doom and gloom. Are you what Zero is going to grow up to be like? Are you a grown-up emo dragon? Do you write sad poems in your diary—”
“You think you have me fooled, child. But you don’t.”
I forced a neutral expression onto my face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He lowered his head until we were eye level. Or rather, as eye level as a puny human standing (floating?) in front of a gigantic dragon could be. “You do not take my warning seriously.”
“Uh, yeah. I do. All six thousand of them. But just for the sake of expediting this conversation, which warning specifically?”
“That you are still capable of corruption.”
I winced. “Oh. Right. That one. Look, dude. I know you’re worried that I’m so young and that Myrin will be able to play me like a fiddle and fuck with my head—”
“Sam.”
I looked away, not wanting him to see what I’d struggled to keep hidden from him. It sounded like he was on the fringes of it as it was.
“If you’re not careful, Myrin will use your magic against you and all the people of Verania. Either he will take it from you, or you will join him.”