Fafnir continued her way into the woods with George having no choice but to follow due to the invisible string that tied him to his body still. The occasional hooting of owls and leaves crunching broke the monotonous silence of the forest. 

“Where are you going?” George asked, floating close by, struggling to stay in one place. 

It was no use. Fafnir wasn’t going to answer any of his questions.

But the strange thing was, George was able to see things he hadn’t before. Particles of different colors floating about just like him. Some gathered together and formed runic symbols he saw previously when Fafnir did whatever she did. Each time the grey particles gathered into a rune, a strong gust of wind blew past the trees. Green particles floated around every plant life.

This was magic. At least that’s what George assumed. But magic was a myth, a bedtime story. But how else could explain this unseen world?

Well he supposed this was what Fafnir had seen all this time.

George reached out to one and it glowed at his touch. He then took another, then another, then another until he had several in the palm of his hands. 

He had an idea. What if he just pressed each and every particle together? What’s the worst thing that could happen?

But the harder he pushed, the harder it pushed back. The glow intensified until… Baam!

George was sent flying by an explosion of wind. He hurled through the air until the invisible string pulled him back as if it was a bungee cord. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Fafnir finally spoke. “Mana doesn’t like being forced to do anything.”

“Mana? What’s mana?” But Fafnir didn’t reply. She just went back to being silent which infuriated him to no end.

First she stole his body and now she doesn’t even want to talk.

“Could you at least tell me where we’re going?” George demanded. His words appearing on a screen next to Fafnir’s head. She dismissed it without even glancing once. To her, he was just vermin, no different from the grass, no different than ants. 

Still, he was determined. He wasn’t going to give up. Heroes never give up no matter the odds.

George tried everything he could think of, to at the very least, annoy Fafnir. He made faces, phased his incorporeal fist through her face many times. Attempted the wind ball explosion many times but it only gave him whiplash if anything. 

“You’ll never win, you know. Those people who nearly ended you? They’ll be back. You’re lucky you got away.” George taunted which worked a little too well because the next thing he knew, he was being choked by Fafnir. Her eyes burning with indignant rage.

“Careful, George. My merciful heart can only grant so many pardons.”

She glared, tightening her grip. 

“You-” The bushes rustled suddenly. Fafnir then broke into a smirk. 

Without warning, a massive wolf the size of a bear lunged at her but she effortlessly caught it mid-air. Somehow, she had turned his arm into a scaly dragon-like gauntlet. The wolf snarled at them, flailing wildly. Sparks went flying anytime it clawed away at the scaly plated arm.

It growled and howled, relentlessly scratching away at Fafnir who was unfazed to say the least.

“Say George, didn’t you say you’d want your body back?” She grinned. 

The next thing he knew, he was back in his body. But there couldn’t have been a worse timing. Whatever magic Fafnir did to his arm was quickly withering away. 

He barely had a moment to process what was going on but every fiber of his body screamed at him to move.

George bolted, running so low he was almost on all fours.
He couldn’t see anything anymore. He couldn’t see the particles, he couldn't see where he was going but there wasn’t any time to think. He had to act. George ran and ran, turning every which way, trying to lose the hulking wolf’s restless pursuit. 

It didn’t help that he could hear Fafnir laughing in his head. Finding his struggle to escape from death that was chasing him, amusing. 

‘Alright bring it.’

Heroes would have to do this much at least. Monsters should be a piece of cake for a hero in training like himself. But hyping himself up with words didn’t change the fact that there was still a massive wolf chasing him. 

George didn’t even know wolves could get that big. Granted he had never been around much. This only excited him more. What else was out there? A horse the size of a house? A snake that could wrap around a hut twice over? 

Only George could ever find something positive in the most grim circumstances.

It wasn’t good, his legs were seconds away from giving out. Fafnir had driven his body to its limits already. She must have been using some sort of magic up until now.

Several branches whacked his face as he ran. He had many close calls, almost kissing the ground. 

His blood ran cold and his stomach dropped when his foot found no ground to step on. George fell, sliding down the steep slope, several sharp jagged rocks tearing away at his tunic, cutting into his flesh. 

“All you have to do is ask for my help.” Fafnir whispered in his ear. “Say please help me lord Fafnir. Please help your lowly servant who didn’t know any better.” She taunted.

Never. He’d rather get mauled by a wolf than ask help from her. But try as he might to convince himself, his resolve wavered, his body shook as the great mass of death approached him. He felt his heart thumping in his throat. His breathing hastened as the wolf inched closer. George felt around in the dark, trying to find something. Anything! In a last ditch effort, he began to fling rocks at it while backing away.

“Get back!” He yelled. “Get away!” But it was no use. The wolf couldn’t understand him, only that it was hungry and George was food. 

In the blink of an eye, the wolf pounced on him, pinning him to the ground, claws digging into his forearm and wrist. George could feel its scalding hot breath mere inches from his face. His blood ran cold, and he could feel his heart trying to leap out of his throat. Cold, alone, and beyond terrified. George could feel the repulsive dread and despair spreading throughout his body. He was going to die. He was going to be mauled to death and there wasn’t a thing he could do. His arms felt like lead and his legs gave out long ago. 

Fafnir was having the time of her life. “Say it George. Say you want my help, no, say you need it. Say the magic word and the pain will go away. Say the magic word and it’ll all stop.”

But she could not have foreseen the two adventurers that jumped out the bushes. One stabbing the wolf off of George and the other helping him to his feet.

“Are you alright?” The adventurer asked. The voice belonged to a girl who sounded barely older than him. “Don’t worry, my brother’s really strong. He’ll take care of the beast in no time.” She said as she led him away. In the distance, he heard the wolf howl in pain, claws clashing against metal. The two engaged in mortal combat. “A little help!” The brother called out, desperation in his tone.

The girl quickly took out a green glowing iridescent potion. She quickly propped him up against a tree and held the potion to his lips. The cool liquid washed down his gullet. What came next was indescribable pain. Pain like he never felt before. Like someone had thrown him into a blazing furnace. He felt as if his insides were going to melt from the sheer intensity of it all. 

But it was all too much. Too much for a mere boy to bear. 

He felt his consciousness slipping in and out of reality. His eyelids, too heavy to open. Until the world around him dissolve into nothingness.