“Am I going to die?” he whispered, curling into a tight ball and clutching the grimoire to his chest.
“I can’t die here. My family—my father, my mother. Will they think I was kidnapped?” The words died in his throat as he began to sob. Anxiety gripped his heart, a cold weight born from the thought of his family believing him dead or gone forever. He wished there were another way. He wished that bastard mage hadn't done this. Was he special? Was he connected to this somehow? No, there was no way. He was ordinary. Nothing special at all.
Suddenly, he felt a damp chill. He was falling through thick, heavy clouds. When he finally broke through the gray mist, he saw the ocean rushing up to meet him. For a split second, he thought, Oh, safety, before remembering that from this height, hitting water was like hitting concrete.
“FUCK YOU!” he screamed anew, his heart hammering against his ribs.
“Master is so loud…” a feminine voice echoed inside his head.
Cedric looked around, dazed. I must be losing it, he thought.
“No, Master, you aren’t losing it. Here, let me help.” The voice in his mind grew louder, though it remained gentle.
Warmth suddenly coated his body as a female figure manifested beside him. She was a wraith or spirit, glowing with a pale blue light, her skin translucent. Despite the ghostly nature, she was beautiful—unlike any spirit he’d seen in movies.
“Check me out later, okay?” she teased with a lighthearted smirk that didn't quite reach her serious eyes. “Open the grimoire and use the spell Dragon Wings. It’s a Tamer magic spell under Body Modification. Use it now, or you will die.”
She spoke faster now, her face mere inches from his. Cedric nodded frantically and forced the book open. To his amazement, the illustrations on the pages were shifting and moving as if they were alive. He marveled at them for only a second before finding the spell she’d mentioned.
“Say the spell's name and visualize it. You should feel a pull in your chest—right here. Pull back on it.” He wondered how he could hear her so clearly through the rushing wind, but he shook the thought away.
“DRAGON WINGS!” he yelled, hoping for a miracle. Nothing happened. He cursed and tried again. “DRAGON WINGS!” Still nothing. “Fuck! Why isn’t it working?!”
“Calm yourself and visualize it,” she commanded, her voice stern yet motherly. He nodded, picturing the most regal dragon wings he could imagine.
“Dragon Wings,” he said again.
His back suddenly flared with heat. He felt a tugging sensation in his chest and, as instructed, yanked on the feeling. It was strange—like trying to grip water that had the mass of an eel—but it worked.
Two massive wings, each the size of a two-car garage, sprouted from his back. Leathery membranes stretched over bone, their scales a regal bronze. His jacket and shirt were shredded in the process, but it didn't matter. He had wings.
He tried flapping them, catching an updraft, but he had no control. He didn't know how to fly.
“Shit, how do I…” He tried to force the movement, but his rhythm was off. Both wings flapped once, then twice, before stalling.
“Calm yourself, please,” the spirit woman said, her voice tinged with worry. Cedric clenched his teeth and bellowed.
“I WILL NOT DIE HERE!”
He straightened his body, focusing every ounce of his mind on the wings. He extended his arms and held his legs together, trying to become as streamlined as possible. The ocean was approaching faster and faster.
The wings began to beat with more intent. He growled, his mind racing for results. One flap, two flaps, three. The rhythm broke again. He cursed and doubled his focus. One, two, three, four, five, six!
He could smell the salt spray now. The water below was crystal clear but thunderous, looking as if it were waiting to swallow him whole.
But it didn't. As he stretched his body and angled his wings, he felt the wind catch the membrane. He began to glide, his wingtips slicing the surface of the water as he leveled out. With a powerful flap, he pulled himself upward, slowly gaining altitude. He was finally in control.
Within moments, he was hovering ten feet above the waves. He looked in every direction, but there was nothing but endless blue. Only then did he remember the spirit.
“Right here, just behind you,” she said, causing him to jump. A short scream escaped his throat.
“Ah, fuck! Don’t do that!” he grunted, regaining his stance. In the back of his mind, he was giddy with the thrill of flight, but he had more pressing questions. “Who are you, anyway?”
“Sorry, Master. My name is Bookkeeper—or Lisa, for simplicity’s sake.”
“Nice to meet you, Lisa the Bookkeeper. My name is—”
She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I know your name, Master. You are Cedric Ulvard Anderson, son of Matthew and Rona Anderson. Born September 10th. You were an eleven-pound baby.”
Cedric’s eyes widened. “How did you…” He paused, looking around. “Is this a dream again?”
“No dream, my master. I bonded to you as you bonded to the grimoire. You are its master, as you are mine. You are the bearer of the Grimoire of Monsters and Beasts. My job is to advise you and keep you alive. Simply put, I am your attendant.” She spoke with a refinement that intrigued him.
“By the way, we should find land soon. The spell eats mana. You have plenty—I checked—but if you keep this up too long, you’ll pass out from exhaustion and drown.” Her tone was kind, but the urgency was clear.
Cedric nodded. “If that’s the case, yeah, we need to go.” He pivoted and began to fly southward, his movements still shaky. “Is this the right way? Do you know the area?”
“Only basic knowledge. I believe this leads to the Southlands, but with this much ocean, it’s hard to be sure. We could be in the Matrocious Ocean, west of the Rubolon continent.”
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She spoke as if he should know these names. To Cedric, it was all just "more ocean" or "Southlands."
“I can read your thoughts; no need to hide them,” she added. “The Matrocious Ocean is the largest in Ezratan—the world you’ve been brought to. The largest continent is Rubolon, which has three distinct regions: Nordland, Midland, and Southland.”
She sounded like a college professor. Cedric was about to ask about the local politics, but she cut him off again.
“No, I don’t know anything about politics. Everything has likely changed massively in the last hundred years. My information is limited to geography and magical beasts.”
Cedric continued flapping his wings, his mind racing with a mixture of wonder and terror.
“Hey, you mentioned mana. How does that work? How do I check it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in a way that made Lisa smirk.
“The grimoire tells me, and you can see it as well. It keeps track of everything—your creations, summons, and tames.” Again, she spoke as if it were second nature. She rolled her eyes when she read his confusion.
“Hey, it’s not my fault I’m new to this! What are these summons you’re talking about?” Cedric adjusted for an updraft, trying to keep from spiraling.
“That grimoire is a powerful artifact. It can rend reality to create or summon beings. The difference is that your creations are naturally loyal to you. Summons are bonded via a summoner’s bond, which can be fickle. And tamed beings are creatures that either choose to serve you or are dominated by your will.”
Her voice was soothing, and the explanation was simple enough. To Cedric, it sounded like the ultimate nerd power fantasy. He sighed, but a bug suddenly flew into his throat. He stopped flying for a moment, hovering as he hacked and coughed it up.
Lisa smirked, amused by his "greenness," but she straightened her expression when he turned back to her.
“Yes, it is a powerful weapon. But your affinity was one hundred percent. You are a rarity. You were made for this book, even if you couldn't say no. You are stuck here with it.”
The words hit like a physical blow. Anger flared in his chest, and for a second, he wanted to lash out. “Don’t say another word,” he snapped.
He looked away and began to fly again, arms extended and body stretched. Lisa followed, realizing she had crossed a line, but she didn’t apologize. Her master had to face the reality that there was no going back. The sooner he accepted Ezratan, the sooner he could survive it. Besides, her own freedom from the book depended on his life.
The wind and the rhythmic beat of wings were the only sounds for the next two hours. The silence was deafening. Cedric didn't hate Lisa, but the weight of being "stuck" was overwhelming. Tears pricked his eyes, and he quickly wiped them away with a free hand.
“I’m sorry, Mom and Dad,” he whispered. “I miss you already.”
Eventually, a shoreline appeared. It was a beautiful beach dotted with white seashells.
“Land ho, right?” he asked, his voice forced and chipper.
“Yes, indeed,” she replied, matching his tone.
Cedric angled himself for the landing, bracing his body. However, he extended his legs too early. He lost his balance, tumbling through the sand in a mess of limbs and "fucks" and "ows."
When he finally stopped rolling, he was staring up at the blue sky. Lisa was hovering over him, giggling.
“Shush…” He sighed and sat up. He had landed so hard that the dragon wings had dispersed. “Got it. Don't land hard.” He spat out a mouthful of sand and shook his head, though the brief thought of his family made him tense up again.
He stood and patted the sand out of his clothes—what was left of them. “Shit, where’s the…”
“Over there.” Lisa pointed. Cedric ran to the grimoire, picking it up and dusting it off.
“Sorry,” he muttered to the book.
“You didn’t hurt it,” Lisa said. “The grimoire is alive in a sense, but it’s still an object. And I’m not the grimoire; I’m just attached to it.”
“Right. Well, what now?”
“It’s midday. I’d wager we need shelter. Pirates could be nearby, or even massive crustaceans.”
That line made Cedric’s skin crawl. He’d played enough games to know that giant crabs were often more dangerous than dragons. “Yeah, let’s go.”
He walked toward a slope leading inland. The heat was already becoming unbearable. He took his jeans and, using a sharp rock, sawed them off at the knees. He did the same with his long johns, figuring the scrap fabric could be used as bandages.
He stood there, bare-chested and scarred, feeling the sun on his skin. It made him feel grounded, though having a woman—even a spirit—staring at him made him blush.
“Can you not stare?”
“I’m sorry, Master. It’s just… you have so many scars. You’re a fighter. I knew that from your memories, but…”
“I don’t need your sympathy. Let’s go.” He pulled his makeshift shorts back on and started climbing.
The slope was soft and loose, forcing him to use his hands to crest the top. When he finally looked out, he saw a massive savanna stretching to the horizon. I hope there aren't any lions hungry for a Nordic snack, he thought.
After an hour of walking through the dry grass, he found a tree with decent shade. He collapsed under it, sweating bullets.
“Any water?”
“Yes, actually.” Lisa pointed up.
Cedric looked up and saw a fruit the size of a durian with the skin of a mango. “What the hell is it?”
“Mukka fruit. Common in the Southlands. They aren't toxic.”
Cedric set the grimoire down, wiped his hands on his jeans, and climbed. He was surprisingly agile; he jumped, gripped a sturdy branch, and hauled himself up. He knocked two fruits down and climbed back down to claim his prize.
The fruit tasted like a mix of mango and apple—crisp, juicy, and sweet. He devoured it, his mouth full as he asked, “Does this have enough water, or do I need more?”
Lisa nodded, but her attention was elsewhere. “What is it?” Cedric asked, his nerves returning.
“My sensory ability picked something up. Movement. They are close.”
Cedric didn't wait. He grabbed the grimoire and bolted. He ran for five minutes, walked for ten, and repeated the cycle for miles. He wasn't a track star, but he had his father’s endurance. Still, the heat was brutal for someone built for the cold.
When he finally stopped, he was deep in the savanna. “Anything?”
“No. They could be using magic or are just very stealthy.” Lisa was still scanning the horizon.
Cedric sat down, exhausted. He opened the grimoire again. As he stared at the illustrations, they shifted, revealing lore, abilities, and costs. He noticed that creating a creature was much more expensive than summoning one, but creations were inherently loyal.
He found a section labeled Grimoire Abilities that unfurled like a game UI:
Enchantment Resistance (100%): Resists all charm, blindness, and mental effects.
Beastmaster: Increases taming effectiveness by 75%.
Draconic Vitality: Allows the user to pull on the two dragon souls bound within the book for increased lifespan and regeneration (Regeneration requires manual activation and mana).
Draconic Indulgence: Gain mana by indulging in killing, lust, greed, gluttony, or vanity.
Tamer Mastery: 100% boost to Tamer magic effectiveness.
Note: User cannot use other forms of magic.
He blanched at the last part. “I can’t use other magic?”
“No,” Lisa said softly. “If you had training before the bond, you could have kept those spells, but you couldn't have progressed further. I’m sorry. I know you wanted fireballs and lightning.”
Cedric sighed. “It’s fine. I’m a one-trick pony. Taming and creating—that’s it.”
He flicked through the pages until he found a tab that made his heart skip a beat: Dinosaurs.
“No way,” he breathed. He saw them all: Aardonyx, Abelisaurus, Acrocanthosaurus, Allosaurus.
He was a dinosaur nerd at heart. The thought of riding an Allosaurus was incredible. But Lisa cautioned him. “Dinosaurs are expensive to create, and summoning them is risky—their wills are hard to bound.”
He checked the cost for an Allosaurus: 450 mana.
“Well, damn. I wasn't expecting to take out a mortgage for one.” He sighed. 450 was a lot for one adult. He could make a juvenile for less, but he didn't have time to raise a baby in the middle of a savanna.
“Should I make one?” he asked Lisa.
“In my opinion? No. They need too much food, they aren't magic-resistant, and an Allosaurus is a huge target out here. It stands out.”
Her logic was sound. Cedric went back to the drawing board. “A wolf? Or… how about coyotes?”
“I agree. Three or four coyotes to guard you while you rest.”
Cedric found the coyote entry. 35 mana.
“Much better.” He selected three and hit Create.
He felt three sharp tugs in his chest. Three black-and-gold orbs materialized in front of him, undulating before taking shape. Legs, bodies, then heads. Two had reddish-brown coats, while the third was a classic tawny color. Their eyes snapped into focus, locking onto Cedric.
“Give them orders,” Lisa prompted. “They need to adjust, but they will develop personalities over time.”
Cedric nodded, looking at the three living, breathing things he had just brought into existence. “I order you to protect me and keep watch.”
The coyotes didn't hesitate. They snapped into action, beginning their first patrol of the savanna.
What will Cedric create next? Take a guess!