The banners flew, the final match ready to be fought, and the flag was dropped, the dying sun giving twilight illumination for their battle, watching the others body, waiting for the opening that would give them their edge over the other. 
	Magnus’s eyes met the creature’s, glare for glare. A gargoyle, its stone body seeming in capable of flight bore giant wings that would send it to the skies on a whim. Its ugly goat like snout wiggled with its ragged nose, its twisting ram horns curving up viscously. Each stone muscle nearly matched each of Magnus’s fleshy tendons. His impatience forcing through, he broke the stare down with a rising of stone from the earth, easily twice the size of him, and gave it a whirling kick towards Magnus. As it crashed, nothing could be seen of what remained of the dragon; the gargoyle raised his hands in jubilation, unaware the Magnus rose from the earth that shielded him beneath the raging boulder. He stomped the ground, a pillar of earth rising, and he punched the base, sending it flying in a toppling mass at the gargoyle. The stone beast immediately responded in kind, deciding to go force on force. Magnus could feel them stretching on the same thread, pulling on it, fighting for power; he could also feel the powerful grip the gargoyle had. Stonespire had taught him to sense power, what the ability and potential it had. He sensed his own, relatively untouched, despite how powerful he seemed next to his peers. This creature’s power matched the hold he had, but reaching maximum potential. To defeat the gargoyle, Magnus would have to extend beyond what he was used to, which could result in violent recoil if he could not control the threads. He would just have to out smart him; wouldn’t be too hard, the gargoyle wasn’t even smarter than dirt.
	Magnus took to under ground again, the hard ground swallowing him like c loud as he traveled through, releasing his hold and sending the gargoyle reeling forwards, Magnus’s pillar and his own collapsing on top of him. The dragon burst from the ground, a massive hole left in his wake. Every shard bursting from the ground he sent towards the gargoyle as he regained his stance. Seeing the threat he immediately took part of the fallen pillars holding it aloft and swung it around, every boulder breaking on it, breaking it to bits, leaving him with a good sized rock. The gargoyle plucked a seed from between the stony folds, and blew it into the rock, and it began to grow. The branches exploded in a growing frenzy, flying towards Magnus, and grasping at him like hurried fingers. He was trapped; completely trapped, and for the first time in the entire tournament, felt stone break upon his back. It did not phase, as he tried hacking through the branches, but they grew back like hydra heads, grabbing at his arms, his legs, even his tale. The gargoyle brought the soil up and let it snake around Magnus, and to show a new level of mastery, sent a fissure deep into the earth. From it burst water and steam, finding an ancient hot spring and using it to soften the soil. The mud quickly gathered around Magnus, holding the roots of his prison in place, making it even more difficult to fight; in bondage, he could not use any druidic magic. Summoning the earth to one’s call still was a struggle even to ancient masters, leaving Magnus helpless in the iron grip of the tree. The mud hardened around him, layers and layers slowly piling on, climbing up his neck; the gargoyle had the intention of suffocating him! Magnus focused all of his energy around himself, searching for a way. Breaking into the spring had flooded the ancient forest below, leaving them squirming in mud, so useless to him, but the steam? Why was the water so hot…?
	First Magnus had to get out, but how? He would have to leave the hardwood somehow! The water so hot…Magnus cried out in frustration, the steam bothering him, like the heat from a volcano…a volcano? Magma! The movement of tectonic plates had left this part of the earth’s crust thin, the water being incredibly close to the earth’s soft blazing insides. Magnus Struggled with what he could, concentrating his energy on just one speck of mud; its temperature rose. 
	Each particle rose in temperature, The hardening mud and surrounding stones beginning to blaze; it burned Magnus’s hide as he tried to resist it, gathering the cooler stone around him as boulders melted around him, the extreme heat bursting the wood into flame, Just as Magnus blasted his earthy prison from around him. The gargoyle could feel the heat beginning to damage his hide, the steam already making g muddy mess of his joints, and he had risked much energy just trying to keep Magnus enclosed. Lost in the rush of energy and power Magnus had found the Magma and it began to rise, slowly at first it bubbled from the fissure in the ground, bubbles popping with the heat, but it raised into a massive wall, surrounding the gargoyle. The wall broke as Magnus came through, the very guts of the earth at Magnus’s will as it fell on the gargoyle in a wave, lifting him up on its cresting, and slithering around him the heat, sending the gargoyles mind into a blazing frenzy of madness; if the heat had not killed him then, his damaged mind would’ve killed him eventually. The lava that rose into a pillar with the gargoyle placed morbidly half entrenched at the top cooled into volcanic rock, but the rest began to flow like a river, unnaturally, with Magnus’s power rushing through it. Something in Magnus had awakened, leaving him with a feeling of enlightenment, fulfillment and sheer euphoria. Though he had only tasted his possibilities, the crowd only watched seeing the magma flow in the streets, following only the pavement, one flying from above could see the geometric design of the streets glowing with fire and melted rock. 
	But a soft whisper in the fabric of the earth woke him, warned him what would happen if he continued, and so he realized that if he continued much longer, he would destroy the astonished peoples and himself, leaving the desert stronghold a wasteland of black rock. As the lava had circled the circumference of the city, Magnus broke himself of, exhaling at last and releasing his grip on the power. The lava steamed, lost without his power, the spring finally rising up and covering the arena floor into a shallow lake, heavy steam rising into the sky. It gathered and quickly with the already forming clouds and the rain washed upon the lava, hardening it where it stood, pouring down and purifying the land, filling pits and refilling the lake, cleansing it of its pollution, as the garbage washed out as it overflowed. For two thousand years, rain had not seen the desert, and with an awakening in Magnus, so the sky gave the land rebirth. 
	None believed what the saw. Hardly Magnus as he saw around him a small earth symbol had formed in front of him, smaller than the palm of his hand. He bent down to touched it, and felt an old familiar presence. And before him he saw what looked like the softest of tracks. From dragon paws. Goliath dragon. He smiled, realizing Stonespire still guided even from the spirit realm. The steam finally cleared and he stood up, the crowds having gathered to the tops, afraid, but mystified. He fell to the ground, completely spent, and in the hazy drizzle, the arena spectators fell into cheers and roars. Every druid could feel Stonespire’s gentle touch, only Magnus recognized her gentle feeling, but his heart panged with his grief renewed; she had said goodbye, leaving him in the wake of her love and power as her spirit returned to the fabric of the earth.