"So it really works like that?" Galadriel's eyes shone with anticipation. "Then does that mean I could learn that magic too?"
Rowan Mercer nodded. "In theory, yes. But it requires a dragon's remains to refine a dragon crystal."
If dragon crystals were available, Rowan had no objections to helping elves, dwarves, or humans undergo the process. Whether it led to dragon-slaying magic or full draconic transformation, anything that strengthened the Free Peoples against Morgoth was worth considering.
Unfortunately, dragons were not exactly common.
Galadriel's shoulders slumped at once. "A dragon… right."
At present, only one true dragon had ever appeared, and Rowan had already used it. There would be no replacements anytime soon.
"Are you hurt?" Lúthien asked, reaching out to check Rowan carefully. Her concern had nothing to do with dragons or power. She only cared whether he had been injured fighting Sauron.
"I'm fine," Rowan replied with a reassuring smile. "You and Galadriel wore him down first. That made things much easier for me."
It was a deliberate kindness, and it worked.
Galadriel lifted her chin proudly. "Of course we did."
Lúthien laughed softly.
Galadriel immediately grinned at her. "You're awfully worried about him, Lúthien. Almost like—"
"Don't say nonsense," Lúthien interrupted, cheeks flushing as she lightly smacked Galadriel on the head. "I just like his stories. I didn't want him hurt."
Rowan let the exchange pass without comment and glanced ahead. "We're almost out of the valley. Once we reach the mountains, I'll clear the path. You lead the convoy behind me."
With that, he transformed once more, rising into the air as a dragon and sweeping toward the mountains. His jaws opened, and torrents of tri-colored flame poured down across the slopes.
Spiders vanished by the thousands. Webs burned away in moments. The land was scoured clean, reduced to pale earth beneath the fire.
A road took shape.
Where death had once ruled, a clear passage now ran straight from the valley into the mountains. From that day on, there would be no danger between Dorthonion and Doriath.
"We should help too," Lúthien said.
She and Galadriel led the Grey Elves in casting life magic. Green spread across the scorched ground. Grass returned. Wildflowers bloomed. The caravan moved forward across living earth instead of ash.
Far away, deep beneath Angband, Morgoth frowned.
"What are you?" he muttered.
Through the ring, he had seen everything. The battle. Sauron's fall. The human who wielded light, became a dragon, and resisted corruption with a soul strong enough to rival the divine.
If Rowan had not truly been human, Morgoth would have assumed a Valar had descended in disguise.
At least it meant the gods themselves were not moving yet.
Still, Sauron was gone. And a human like that was a threat.
"The dragon legions must be completed," Morgoth decided.
His will reached eastward. "Gothmog. Halt the western advance. Capture every Noldorin elf you can, especially the sons of Fëanor. Feed them to the dragons. Accelerate their growth."
Two days later, Rowan and the Grey Elf convoy arrived safely in Dorthonion.
Soon after, Noldor, Grey Elves, dwarves, and humans gathered in the city and within the academy Rowan had founded. Knowledge flowed freely between races, and for a time, Middle-earth entered a rare season of calm.
Word of Sauron's defeat spread across the land.
Rowan Mercer became known everywhere as the greatest human hero of the age.
Far from Middle-earth, in another world entirely, Rowan sat beneath a guild hall, deep in research. A knock interrupted him.
"Macau?" Rowan said, opening the door. "I told you not to disturb me unless it was urgent."
"It is urgent," Macau replied breathlessly, holding out a poster. "And it's not something I can decide alone."
Rowan scanned the notice and blinked.
"The First Grand Mage Tournament of the Kingdom of Fiore?"
The royal announcement declared that, one week from now, a grand competition would be held in the capital, Crocus, the City of Blossoms. Its goal was simple: determine the strongest mage guild in the kingdom.
The prize was enormous.
Thirty million jewel.
"Has Fiore ever done this before?" Rowan asked.
"Never," Macau said, shaking his head. "Guild rankings have always been unofficial."
Rowan frowned slightly.
This kind of event would turn every guild in the kingdom upside down. Reputation, talent, commissions—everything would be on the line.
Macau scratched his head. "So… are we entering?"
The question hung in the air.