The little black ring floated in his blank mindscape. Silently, it considered him.

[Your body's constitution is remarkably compatible with my powers.]

[Look, the aftereffects are going to hurt like a b****, but it'll get us out of here. You understand?]

Van felt like he was five again, his mother trying to explain that he shouldn't be making mud pies and throwing them at the little bastard next door – both then and now, Van just didn't understand, not one bit. He nodded anyway.

[Here it comes].

Thin strands of thrumming, red power emerged from the ring.

With a roaring river's momentum, hot energy flowed into Van's body. Scalding, but exceedingly comfortable, it settled into his muscles, tendons, pores. The feeling was euphoric, it was like he could lift mountains and split the seas.

He stopped falling. Hovering stably in the air, Van's eyes glowed an intense red and his hair began to float mysteriously behind him.

A voice sighed.

[This is nearly the extent of my abilities already. If I had more time..]

[But this is not the moment to think about that - Van!]

Van snapped to attention, "Yes! "

[I need you to focus for me].

[Imagine all this power, travelling through your body, and gathering in your palms. Think!]

Van nodded, sweat beading on his brow. His back was drenched with perspiration. Frowning, he imagined the swirling hot power inside him calming, gathering into a single stream and flowing towards his palms. It kind of worked, but it kind of didn't. The clear majority of the power ignored his will and stayed a swirling morass within him. But a large enough portion obeyed, travelling down his wrists and pooling into his palms, which grew red-hot.

Literally, red hot.

[Now, when the death wyrm gets closer, you need to focus all your thoughts on ejecting the power! We only have one chance to kill it.]

"How close?" Van asked through furrowed brows, continuing his quest of gathering power in his palms. Through his stinging eyes, he saw the black death wyrm approach.

[Closer.]

The dragon-serpent hissed, writhing through the air as it flew towards him. Its yellow eyes glittered as it locked onto its prey. With superb acrobatic movement, it landed upon the bull and used it as a platform to leap from!

Suddenly, it was only ten metres away.

Van trembled. He did not know if it was out of fear or excitement, or the sheer agony of feeling one's life hanging on a single thread.

8 metres.

5 metres.

[Almost...]

The heat in Van's palms grew to impossible heights. His two palms seemed molten hot, and burned fiercely with repressed energy.

3 metres.

The death wyrm was so close now, that Van could count the many small, criss-crossing scars that covered its body.

[You must do exactly as I say]

2 metres.

The wyrm's muscular body coiled, gathering power, and sprang forward, its teeth glinting in the amber light. Its eyes were focused on Van, delighting in the final desperate moments of its prey's life.

Suddenly, it was right before Van. With a savage hiss, it leapt forwards, fangs extended and dripping with saliva. Van's sweat was dripping into his eyes. He was so on edge that his brain felt swollen. Why hadn't the ring given him the go yet?

So focused on hearing the command was he, that he couldn't even spare the brain cells to tell if he was still gathering the energy in his palms or just stupidly letting the energy disperse.

Surely this was close enough! Van could count all the individual ridges on the wyrm's nostrils and the number of baby teeth it had behind its fangs, for god's sake.

The wyrm reared up.

[There!], the ring cried out urgently, tension clear in its tone.

Through his dripping sweat, Van glimpsed a tender, pale spot on the death wyrm's underside.

[You have ONE chance!]

Van filled his lungs with burning air and steeled his body. As the wyrm's fangs struck, he dodged - a young bamboo stripling bending back and whipping forth in the wind - and thrust his hands forward.

The violent ejective force slammed him into the rock wall.

The world exploded.

And went dark.

________________

A loud rumbling sound spread outwards from the mountain range.

In the surrounding land, farmers, with their arms deep within the paddy fields, plucking weeds from between the rice plants, shouted in fear as the water around them trembled. Then, they heard the eardrum-shattering rumbling. They held onto their straw hats and ran for their wives and children, fearing that an earthquake was imminent. They wished that somehow, they could have four legs instead of two, so they could reach their loved ones faster.

A peddler, travelling between villages cursed as his mule startled, thus dislodging several jars of spices and sauces, which tumbled onto the well-travelled dirt path. He twisted his neck towards the source of the rumbling and saw a terrifying sight – hundreds of crows taking to the air, circling, above the mountain. The superstitious type, his face blanched and he wondered if he should just return to Clear Water Town and take a few days off work.

Further from the mountain, a few young boys could be seen, trudging back to their village from the forest, each holding baskets full of nuts and berries. In their midst, a grey-eyed boy with a permanent scowl on his face walked, hands empty. While the others chattered about catching this fish or that fish, that girl's looks or that girl's legs, he was silent. Always, he thought about ways to get stronger.

When the deep, shuddering rumble reached them, the lot shouted in awe. The scowling young man looked silently backwards at the raucous murder of crows above the mountain. The orphan boy was still in there!

Further outwards the sound spread. By the time it reached Mountain Village, the rumble had considerably gentled.

Inside a well-kept but bare-bones courtyard, two men were drinking tea with their wives. Leif and Blade were deep in discussion about the village's affairs, occasionally throwing down a few cups. Meanwhile, Sherpa and Blade's wife chatted about the girls in the village and how to arrange their marriages fittingly. Satisfied with that, they discussed the matter of how to sell and market the village's specialty blackberry jam, but this matter was quickly taken up by the two men, who ham-handedly rattled out a strategy they thought was very good. Sherpa and Blade's wife raised their eyebrows at each other, but each refrained from speaking, happy to keep their husbands pride in themselves intact.

All four's attention was briefly distracted by the sound of thunder. It was the hot season though, and thus the right time for thunderstorms and heavy rain, so they soon put it aside.

Finn, sitting patiently under a crooked tree as a young village girl tried to messily braid her hair, heard the noise and frowned. It seemed to be coming from the direction of the mountain!

[Brother..?]

[You better be okay, or this Finn will hate you forever!]

Her little face, already round with baby fat, puffed up further, until she resembled a round steam bun. If you looked closely, you would see her lips trembling, as if on the verge of tears. She hated the Village Chief, and the hunters for sending her brother on that stupid, stupid, bad mission!

Her little friend, who had given up braiding by now, was combing her golden locks with a bone hair comb. She looked into the sky and gave a little hushed gasp of shock, dropping the comb. Finn caught it. Her friend pointed at to something in the distance.

"Crows..! Uuu, Finn, I hate crows!"

Finn was very young, just barely over five summers old, but could grasp things accurately from a very young age.

Where her big brother was!

Her friend gasped, realising something.

"Finn, isn't that where your brother is? Is he going to be okay?"

"Be fine!" Finn snapped, petulant, "My big brother very strong 'n brave. That's why ALL the girls in village like him."

The girl looked doubtful. Which girls? You're one girl, and you're his sister, you don't count!

Finn gave her a little glare, but with her wide rabbit-like eyes, it was cutely disobedient, rather than the scathing glare of a fierce tigress Finn was going for.

[Van, you must be okay!]