The young mages trudged their way back to Carvolier Castle, some aiding the wounded while others watched the mindless dragon warily. It was a miracle none were critically injured, mage and denizen alike. They could only hope the rest fared just as well.

Leading the charge was the mystery of the hour, Nagan himself with Milora at his side to keep him from stumbling too severely. Carthadeus had never felt the after-effects of a broken spell, but he had seen how Dwarns would sway after a broken barrier as their circuits hastily tried to realign themselves. Perhaps Nagan hadn't taken his advice after all.

Carthadeus rolled his eyes. Of course, he wouldn't. Nagan has all the common sense in the world yet uses none of it on his well being. A nuisance of a hero complex. He could practically feel Icarion's scrutinizing glare, even if it wasn't directed at him, as he evaluated Nagan's condition from the distance between them. Carthadeus was sure Icarion would've marched up and (roughly) taken care of his friend himself if he wasn't currently preoccupied with someone with nasty-looking burns.

Much to his amusement, a quick glance around revealed that Icarion wasn't the only one glaring at the duo ahead of them. To be more specific, Nagan wasn't the only one getting glares.

Not many were willing to stay close to the dragon, no matter how much the Time Mage reassured them the dragon wouldn't attack. If anything, that made everyone even more nervous. How was he controlling the dragon? Regardless, the messenger girl was the only one willing to approach Nagan and the dragon, offering to help him keep his balance. Carthadeus nearly snorted at Nagan's poor attempt at telling her he was fine. Instead, it seemed to steel her resolve as she took his arm and proceeded to recite every reason why he wasn't fine. He had never heard Nagan's jaw snap shut as quickly as it did at that moment.

Now it seemed others wished they were as brave as Milora, then maybe they could've been the ones so close to the Time Mage. Said Time Mage and messenger seemed oblivious to the looks — either that or they ignored them — as they appeared to be conversing quietly.

Where had Milora come from in the first place? Carthadeus didn't recall seeing her in Carvolier before. Sure, he had heard the family name Ollengard, a distant relative of the Warvens he believed, so perhaps she was asked to join their little army ranks and transferred from somewhere else. But why didn't she go to Carvolier? Most of the other Ollengards went here. He would have to ask her sometime.

By the time they passed through the gate, it was clear the fight had ended there as well. The rest of Carvolier had regrouped near the main entrance, dragons near the sides who belonged to the Dragonmage professors and older students. In the field, they saw the three other wild dragons. They were motionless, and Carthadeus didn't see their chests moving.

Those dragons were dead, and judging by the heaviness of the atmosphere, the weight of killing such magnificent creatures were affecting all, both those who were involved and those who watched. But if they were in the same condition as the dragon following Nagan, a soulless vessel, then death would have been merciful.

Nagan continued to ignore Az's glare as he conversed with Milora, even as the gate approached.

"So you didn't come to Carvolier before?"

She shook her head. "No, I went to a mage school on the mainland. Gunford. It's more for the lower mage families and those who don't have remarkable talents."

"Yet here you are amongst the top young Dragonmages in all of Tarkon." He stumbled over a loose stone, Milora quick to steady him. "And from what I saw today, you're more than enough for Carvolier's unnecessary standards."

"You're quite the smooth talker," she laughed softly while willing the redness of her cheeks to go away.

"I'm saying nothing that isn't true," he grinned back. "You have three names, too. Isn't that a sort of sign you're from a high mage family?"

"Usually it is, but my case is a bit different.," she shrugged. "Master Ollengard is my father, but my mother is a normal mage with no family name to pass on. When Madam Ollengard found out about me, she was furious that I was given three names while my mother argued I deserved it since I am Ollengard blood. It was agreed I should keep my names but would go to Gunford to avoid the main family. I don't see them often, but that's probably for the better."

She glanced in wonder. "I also noticed when you introduced yourself, you only said two names, yet you're an Elvar. Why is that?"

Now it was his turn to shrug. "I'm Nageth Elvar's son." When he didn't see a flash of recognition in her eyes, he continued. "He was disowned by the other Elvars when he married my mother, a gypsy of Sa'aremak and a mediocre. Can't say I'm very close to the main family either. I suppose we're alike that way."

"We are, aren't we." She hesitated before asking curiously, "Can...can you say something in your language? It's called Rakshu, right?"

"Brru'e'kal a'lan."

"What does that mean?"

"It means 'you are a lovely person,'" he grinned down at her and couldn't help but feel smug as her cheeks reddened even further.

"And I think all that blood loss is getting to your head," she stated before resolutely turning her gaze forward, smacking his arm as he began to laugh. The dragon trudging behind them forgotten. It was a much-needed break after such a stressful evening.

Yet their laughter and banter came to a halt as they passed Carvolier's gates. No one made a sound as they passed the bodies of the dragons and approached the rest of the school. Professor Trevelion approached them first with a low whistle.

"In all my years I don't believe I've seen anything like this." He turned his heavy gaze onto Nagan since it was clear he was the one controlling it. "What did you do?"

"The dragon is a victim of the Ritual of Will, something found in the Codex of Drakarmir." Nagan slipped his arm out of Milora's hold as he turned to look into the dragon's upturned eyes before adding solemnly, "It's will has been erased, and there's nothing that can be done to get it back. Death would be a blessing for it at this stage."

"It's unfortunate it can't be saved, but let me do the rest," the burly professor said with a long sigh before giving Nagan a sturdy pat on the shoulder before addressing the rest. "Good work out there. I'm assuming the rest of your group had stayed behind to help the townspeople?"

A collective round of confirmation sounded, and some piped up how none were seriously injured.

"Then all of you deserve a good rest. Bring those who are hurt near the door and those with more complicated injuries to Nurse Marvi."

The young mages skirted around the dragon and did as Professor Trevelion said. Nagan gazed at the dragon, seeming to convey a silent command before turning back to the professor. "The dragon should follow your command now."

Professor Trevelion said nothing more to Nagan before nodding and ordering the dragon to follow him. The dragon trudged behind the professor as he led the creature to its last resting place.

"Come on," Milora said and tugged on his arm slightly. "Let's go with the others."

Nagan only nodded as he managed to tear his gaze away from the dragon. That was when he suddenly heard the sounds of stomping steps and an ominous presence approaching him. He didn't get to turn in time before someone hit his back sharply with a burst of magic, roughly realigning his circuits and forcing a cough out of his system. He managed to cover his mouth in time as he began hacking up a black sticky substance, Milora jumping back with a yelp.

"Icarion! What did you do?!" she asked in alarm.

Az continued to work on Nagan's circuits as he replied gruffly, "Just something that happens when someone doesn't bother taking ten seconds to realign their circuits after their spell had been blown to pieces."

"Realigning circuits isn't usually done this carelessly either," Nagan retorted before grunting as Az snapped the final circuit in place.

"Oh, no, I'm usually much gentler about it, but in this case the idiot deserves it." Az moved to the cut at his forehead.

"But...I've never seen this happen before." She chanted for a cloth to float to her hand before offering it to Nagan who accepted it with a small thanks. "Was it really that bad for the black build-up to appear?"

"It was a time spell that was broken, and with time magic comes different rules," Nagan explained vaguely.

Nothing more was said about it after that.

It wasn't until Nagan and Az were in the security of their own room when they began to discuss what really happened.

"What were you thinking out there? You out of anyone should know how dangerous that stunt was!" Az shouted after putting up a silencing bubble.

"What else did you want me to do?" Nagan hissed back. "Did you want me to just leave it there and let whoever was controlling it regain control? Everyone was exhausted, we couldn't have left it there."

"There are plenty of other ways besides you destroying yourself!" Az looked as if he wanted to keep yelling, but instead, he took a deep breath and sat heavily on his bed.

"I just never want to see you in that condition ever again."

Nagan felt a stab of guilt. He didn't need Az to elaborate any further. His memories were fuzzy of that day, but he knew Az, his dearest friend, was fully conscious for the entirety of those dark hours.

"I'm sorry," he said after sitting next to Az. "I'll be less careless next time."

Az said nothing, humming in acknowledgment and leaning his shoulder against his friend's.