"Little Blue is flying west at roughly three hundred forty meters per second. I'm moving at ten times that speed. The distance between us is just over thirty kilometers."
Rowan Mercer accelerated sharply, his leaps cracking the air as he closed the gap. Somewhere in his mind, he casually solved the problem he'd just posed to himself.
"Ten seconds."
Right on time, he spotted Nidnia far ahead, wings straining as she climbed higher into the sky.
Panic tore through her.
She had fled with everything she had, yet the human had reached her in moments. Her only hope was altitude. If she climbed high enough, surely he couldn't reach her.
Reality disagreed.
"Catch."
Rowan kicked the peak off a nearby ice ridge, shattered it midair, and hurled a massive slab upward. It screamed through the sky like a meteor.
Nidnia shrieked and twisted aside, barely avoiding the blow.
That thing would have crippled her.
Worse, she realized height didn't matter. With throws like that, distance offered no safety at all.
Before she could recover, Rowan scooped up more debris and launched it in rapid succession. Each throw was faster than the last, until dozens of boulders converged at once, sealing off every possible escape route.
"No—!"
Nidnia blasted frost in desperation, freezing several stones midair and slowing others.
Then she saw it.
Hundreds more fragments rose beneath them, the remains of an entire ice shelf Rowan had pulverized and thrown skyward.
The sky closed in.
Moments later, Nidnia fell like a broken bird.
She slammed into the ground, carving out a crater and coughing up blood.
Rowan crouched at the edge, unimpressed.
"Running again?"
Tears welled in her eyes.
"Never again," she sobbed. "I swear. I'm done running."
Twenty minutes later, Jarl Korir and Savos Aren watched a battered blue dragon limp back toward Winterhold, Rowan seated calmly on her back.
They exchanged a look.
She somehow looked worse than before.
"Rest on the ice below the city," Rowan said as he dismounted. "Hunt seals if you're hungry. Try to run again and I'll break your horns."
Nidnia nodded frantically.
Rowan then turned away, walking with Avier and Savos along the northern road. The College of Winterhold lay ahead, perched above the Sea of Ghosts, and the inn was on the way.
"Savos," Rowan said casually, "I'd like to ask you something."
"Of course," Savos replied at once.
Rowan had just subdued a dragon, chased it down on foot, and returned riding it. Refusing him wasn't an option.
"I came to Winterhold to join the College. I want to study magic."
Savos stopped.
The other instructors behind him did too.
"You… want to join the College?"
Rowan nodded. "Yes. Despite appearances, I'm not a warrior."
He smiled faintly.
"I'm a mage."
Silence followed.
Then a strained laugh escaped someone.
"A mage?" Savos repeated carefully.
A man who outran dragons and knocked one unconscious with his bare hands claiming to be a mage stretched belief past its limits.
"And what spells do you currently know?" Savos asked.
Rowan listed them calmly. "Flames. Frostbite. Sparks. Oakflesh. Fury. Courage."
Only beginner spells.
The instructors exchanged looks, struggling to keep their expressions neutral. To them, Rowan sounded like a fighter who'd dabbled in magic, nothing more.
Savos recovered first.
"Excellent," he said warmly. "The College of Winterhold welcomes you. You may attend any lectures you wish. Our instructors are available if you have questions. You may also come directly to me."
Rowan blinked, then nodded.
"That's appreciated."
He had considered demonstrating his control over Flames, but decided against it. Drawing attention was unnecessary.
He hadn't come to impress anyone.
He had come to learn.
And now, he could.