With the injury to my shoulder, I fear my fighting days are over. But I’ll be damned if I’m not leading the soldiers into that volcano. I know the way to the lair and can command from the backline. And I still retain my magic despite my failure, thank the gods.
We will be setting off at tomorrow’s dawn. It’s time to end these cultists and their false god.
Mikel leafed through the scraps of journal pages, finding the next entry. There were mentions of the bridge and fierce combat to pass it, recorded as older memories amidst the recounting of their siege on the volcano. 
Time had not been kind to the caldera’s might, as it now sat silent, a basin of cold stone and ash. Pieces of the bridge and other structures had collapsed under their own weight.
The demon I felled must have been costly to summon, as the cultists had not conjured another. As expected, they are little more than sniveling zealots when backed into a corner. Many are young and even more are misguided but that is no longer an excuse for mercy. Too many have died for their fanaticism and my oath compels me to end them.
We have cut down every cultist and every minor evil they summoned in their defense, yet the dragon does not show itself. We must stay to find and kill it.
The men complain constantly of the heat, much like Morrin did. Whichever afterlife he and Luka find themselves in, I hope they know that I do this for them.
With cautious apprehension, Mikel made his way across the bridge and to the lair’s entrance. The closer he got, the denser the skeleton population grew. Some were in pieces, and others still held blades and arrows between their ribs. All of them were human.
He moved through the first room. A stone table sat in the center, crushed into rubble. Its chairs had scattered to the far edges. Everything was coated in thick, dusty soot, unvisited and untouched since the battle that Mikel now read about.
The journal papers were running out as he reached the final chamber. Piles of gold and gems formed dunes throughout the small cavern, glittering beneath a stain of black ash.
Of course, it was the gold. Just like the stories, we had to disturb his hoard. But what we found was not… No. I can no longer stomach recording this and what we have done. For any foolish enough to follow my path, I hope that my actions have helped you. They have surely damned me.
A current of blistering heat rushed in from behind Mikel, filling the chamber and singing the paper in his hands. He spun on his heels, hand finding his sword’s hilt. Before him, standing proud and upright in the entrance, was a man. Long, layered robes were silhouetted against the orange fury of lava bubbling to life outside. He stepped forward into the light of Mikel’s torch, revealing a strong face of angular features and golden eyes. Under each step, the stone cracked and burned, spitting embers that sizzled in the air.
“Have you come to slay the ‘monster of the volcano’, as they did?” The man spoke slowly and with distinction. His words sneered in a taunt, daring Mikel to draw his weapon.
“No.” Mikel’s voice faltered before he regained composure and dropped to a kneel. He looked up to see the man, who was visibly taken aback. The stranger’s head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed as he realized what came next.
“I am here to fulfill the contract you made with Wyllen Meverin.” Mikel had found his confidence and his words came with force and clarity. He rose back to his feet and stepped toward the dragon.
“They are coming. An army. And we need you.”

– by Troy McConnell
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