It was such a simple act to carry out. The tiny dragon had spent its entire life beside the mage, devoted to their life and cause. Every waking moment had been spent together, aiding them and toiling alongside them. It had spent the years protecting the mage from harm, or helping it cast the more demanding spells.
When it had seen the attack approaching, a massive ball of dark flames, it hadn’t hesitated. Despite knowing the attack would be fatal, it charged forward to intercept it.
It hadn’t arrived in time. The dragon watched, wide-eyed, as the mage was struck down. If the fire hadn’t done enough damage, leaving seared limbs in its wake, the sheer force of it would’ve. Purely solid, it carried enough energy to shatter bones and lacerate skin.
The dragon dropped beside their mage, watching with tears in its eyes as blood pooled around its ivory paws. It tipped its snout down and nosed at the unmoving mage, an expectant child desperate not to lose its parent. It couldn’t. Not after everything they’d been through.
The mage raised a trembling hand. The dragon nuzzled into it, its head resting on the mage’s chest.
“Don’t worry,” they spoke. “This wasn’t your fault.”
The mage’s eyes eased shut. The dragon whimpered, its body sagging. If it didn’t do something soon, their mage would perish. But what could they do? What magic could they use to heal such egregious injuries?
As the dragon searched for an answer in its own natural abilities, only one solution presented itself. It was a solution the two of them had practiced several times, and one they had utilized for reconnaissance purposes over the years. Ordinarily, it was temporary, but in this situation?
The dragon straightened up, staring down at the mage’s peaceful expression. It was as if they were lost in a gentle slumber rather than the lulls of death.
The dragon nuzzled the mage’s cheek once, then shut its eyes and channeled magic through its body and soul. As it had plenty of times before, it let the very essence of its being emerge from its physical form, and in turn, drew out the mage’s own soul.
Two tiny flames, each no larger than a fist and glowing an ethereal, ephemeral blue, drifted upward from their bodies. They engaged in a dance, swirling around one another as they rose ever higher. Two became one, then one became two. As they dropped, they returned not to their original bodies.
The mage’s body slivered its eyes open, now under control of the dragon. The dragon’s body picked its head up, taking a moment to register its surroundings.
The dragon’s body looked down. Its eyes went wide. “P-Pyrrhus!” The mage-turned-dragon clutched at their old body, tugging against sleeves and nosing up against limbs in an effort to move it aside.
“Pyrrhus, switch back now!”
The dragon-turned-mage raised its hand. It trembled for a moment, then flopped weakly atop the mage’s newly draconic back.
“Master … safe …” it murmured. “Pyrrhus … not matter …”
The mage’s eyes grew wet, tears sizzling away the moment they met their draconic cheeks. “It should’ve been me, Pyrrhus. You should’ve gotten to live a life without me. You should’ve—”
“Oh, sorry, coming through.”
Pyrrhus and the mage both lifted their heads as much as they could to see the cleric working his way past the dead bodies of the enemy horde.
“Don’t worry, you lout. I gotcha.”
The cleric knelt beside the mage’s battered, scorched body, her hands glowing with a divine light. Within moments, the mage’s injuries vanished, healed under the power of an immense god.
“There you go. All better now, yeah?”
As the cleric rose, headed for the next wounded party member, Pyrrhus and the mage simply stared at one another. For a moment, there were no words. Then, the two of them burst into joyous laughter. They hugged, they held each other tight, and they cheered. And those cheers devolved into cries, and then sobs as they realized that everything would be all right. That they would both live to see another sunrise together.
“I’m sorry,” the mage whispered once his soul had returned to his body. “I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger.”
