I cannot spe
ak Dragon.
He cannot speak in a human tongue.
Are we just supposed to growl at each other?
If so, we’ve got that down perfectly.
I HATE him so much.
THE GREAT White seems to believe I’m wasting my time. Every wizard knows that eventually, a cornerstone will come into being. The Great White doesn’t like the fact that I’m making room for such a person in my constructs.
I can’t deny he has a point. To depend upon one person to hinge my magic on seems to be a logical fallacy. So much could go wrong.
But even I can’t say I’m not seduced by the idea of such a person. Made for me, just as I’ve been made for them.
In the meantime, I met the most curious of triplets the other day, the Berlotti sisters, and all of them seemed to find me irresistible, if the next seventeen hours meant anything….
WHERE DOES magic come from? Is it in the air? Is it in my blood? Is it from my mind or the earth beneath my feet? It seems… confounding that such a thing could exist. And why me? Why are there so few of us who can do the things I can? Am I in tune with the world in the way others are not? No one in my family seems to be capable of the things I am, though they are all long gone now.
My life will be long. I’ve barely begun to scrape the surface.
If magic does come from the mind, is it as limitless as imagination?
What a terrifying thought.
THE GREAT White says I have no need of a cornerstone.
I believe him.
THE TRIALS.
They were nothing.
I am Randall of Dragons.
I MET another wizard.
He’s….
Arrogant.
Irritating.
He thinks he knows so much when he obviously knows very little.
I cannot stand the sight of him.
He smirks at me like he knows me.
It’s infuriating.
I don’t have time for people like him.
I have work to do.
HE SEEMS enchanted by me.