I always knew I had bad luck; I mean, I’m a dwarf with magic. What could possibly be worse?
I know the answer now: a dwarf with unpredictable fire magic.
The Perlidian Forest, once a place of placid, beautiful nature, now housed a raging inferno. The heat dried my face, my eyes, but I couldn’t look away. Something like a rock sat in my stomach. A lump formed in my throat as a feeling of helplessness slowly washed over me.
“You there.”
I blinked, shaking myself out of my stupor. I spun just as a gryphon bearing aged stripes of white fur approached me, his eyes like flint.
“You’re the one who called this in?” he asked in a gravelly voice.
”Y-Yes,” I stuttered, my fingers frantically tangling together. “As soon as the flames started, I—”
“You’re a Mumbaron Dwarf, aren’t you?”
I stopped short as I was unexpectedly cut off, then nodded.
“Your people are usually pretty sceptical of this forest,” the gryphon continued, eyes slitting.
“Not me,” I said quickly. “I came here to…to spend some time alone.” Not a lie at all—but my hands felt hot, and I prayed that they wouldn’t give the rest of the story away. I knew the old gryphon’s look; if he thought I was associated with the fire in any way, he’d hear no excuse.
Not even if it had genuinely been an accident.
The gryphon frowned. “Well, I’ll have to bring you to the boss for questioning.”
Sweat beaded on my brow, and now it had nothing to do with the heat. “Sir, please—”
He flicked his tail, signalling silence. “The law’s the law, son. This fire had to have started somehow.”
I tried to think of something else to say, but my words dried up along with the crackling forest. I nodded, then hung my head as I followed the gryphon. My hands still burned like they wanted to make fire again.
I’d always heard that magic was given for a reason—but why me?

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