The Warlock of Oz

The Dragon's Peak

The wind blew fiercely under the dragon’s wings as she soared over the Emerald City. Beneath Naga the city glittered, shining with joy that did not fit the people within. Scattered through the streets and courtyards lay corpses, draped in white sheets. In the centre of the city, the bodies were being burned in hopes to stop the plague from spreading.

Naga flew down towards the city, keeping just out of sight. She could hear the sobs of the townspeople and could see the fear in everyone’s faces. The stench of burning flesh filled her nostrils as she flew over the mountain of burning bodies.

She eventually landed on the open windowsill of the Throne Room. Inside was Queen Glinda, her face in her hands and her shoulders shaking. The witch was sobbing with grief over her city, over the death that she couldn’t stop. The dragon bowed her head, letting out a pitiful noise before leaping off the windowsill and soaring through  the air.

I ended the scrying spell, having seen enough of the devastation my plague had caused. A month had passed since I sent in the munchkin as a kamikaze to begin the disease, and in that time the death toll had reached the thousands, staining the Emerald City red with the blood of its people. I exited the cave I had been taking shelter in and continued my ascent up the mountain.

It was a harsh terrain. Vicious winds whipped through my jacket and the blizzarding snow stung my face. As I trudged up the sheer cliffs, I rubbed the gem on my cane. I began to steam as the snow evaporated on contact with my body. Slowly, a circle of flame began to build around me in a four foot diameter. It followed me as I walked, the flames whipping in the wind. With every step I took, the snow melted and evaporated, leaving a perfect path for me to walk on.

The Frozen Flame is the most brutal terrain in all of Oz. The wind and snowstorms and sheer cliffs make it almost impossible to climb. The brutal storms claimed the lives of almost everyone brave enough to trek the mountain. If the weather didn’t kill you and you reached the summit, you faced the Guardian. If you prove your strength and wisdom to the Guardian, you are granted a single wish. But the temptation of having your greatest desire fulfilled is not all there is to the Frozen Flame. Deep in the summit lays the final resting place of the Dragonkin, slumbering in the fiery crater of The Dragon’s Peak.

I climbed the vicious mountain for little more than three days, using the scrying spell every night to watch the downfall of the Emerald City.

On the evening of the third day, I reached the summit of the Frozen Flame. The mountain itself was amazing, the mouth of the volcano gushing lava and spitting flames. The view from the top was unlike anything the world had ever seen. But my interest lay not in the scenery. I had come for the creatures dwelling in the heart of the flames.

I approached the mouth of the volcano, the blazing heat searing my skin. In the centre of the molten lake was an obelisk, a pillar that gave off an incredible energy. As I reached the edge of the lava, the obelisk began to glow a dark blue. The blue energy shot from the tip and began to take form as an ethereal man. The man had no legs, just his torso trailing off into a wisp. He had long black hair, braided down to the tip of his wispy tail. But the strangest thing about him was his eyes. He was covered in them. Thousands of eyes dotted his body, everywhere from his chest to his hands to all the way down the wisp.

I bowed before the creature. “Greetings Guardian.”

The Guardian looked at me with his thousand eyes and blinked, multiple eyes closing at once creating a very strange thing to watch. “Ronan the Warlock,” he said with an echoing voice, like a thousand voices overlapping on each other. “You should not be here. You’ve claimed your wish, and a single wish is all you can claim. Now be gone.”