“-Ash. Come on, boy. Wake up, son!”  Ash snapped back to reality. First, half a day lost, now twice in one day. It was definitely getting worse. Before he could get a second thought through his head, a flash of blinding pain cascaded through his skull. A splash of white covered his vision and his body went limp. He crumpled from the wagon bench and slammed into something solid, a burning red trickled into his eyes. And for the first time, he gratefully welcomed the drowning Darkness.

Blurred shades of grey collated themselves in to towering figure. He felt a momentary stab of fear, as he felt so insignificant then the obscurities formed into the troubled face of his family.

A familiar gruff voice broke the silence. “Still alive then boy?”

Ash had to slosh his way through the muddled mess of his mind to say, “Vale, you’re back. Where’s dinner?”

A loud bark of laughter burst from Vale’s lips. The sound pierced through Ash’s head causing him to wince. A faint moan escaped his lips barely passing through his swollen bottom lip. He opened his eyes again to peer directly into Vale’s face.

“Ha, ha, boy seems you fine.” Vale tried to smile but it did not show in his eyes.

“What happened?” Ash mumbled through fat lip. His father propped him up on the bed. Ash could see how battered his face was from the reflection in his family’s eyes. Yet what surprised him the most was the pale sheen on Vale’s face, stoic, fearless Vale.

He was not a particularly large or tall man but possessed overwhelming presence, but Vale’s gruffness always had a soft edge, like a tattered wool pillow. The scruff that covered the bottom half of his face and neck mirrored that gruffness. A spiked tangle of dirt streaked blonde sat atop sun worn skin, two green iris set below a ridged brow. Vale always wore the same grey breeches and long shirt. They hung loosely on his lean muscular frame contrasting wildly with the ropy scars that whipped back and forth across his arms. Yet, for all the violence he seemed to embody his arms were gentle enough to help birth a foal. But for as close as Vale was to Ash and his family, his origins were still a mystery to Ash. Vale had stumble upon their land one day out of his mind with thirst and hunger. The crusted stains on his shirt suggested of old wounds that had festered and bleed from neglected treatment. What had shocked Ash more was when the first thing his father did was retrieve the hunting spear he was so skilled with. Ash had never thought his father as someone who could kill another human, but his eye that day were something Ash would never forget. His mother had eventually talked Ash’s father down. After a night’s talk, whose contents Ash was not privy to, Vale had had been hired on as a manservant. His father’s distrust was obvious, but Ash took to Vale right away, so his father eventually conceded. Both treated Ash as a son, and it was so reflected in the worry that marked both their faces presently. Even Lilia treated him deference as she brought him his warm dinner. He could see the tears in her eyes that threatened to spill over at any moment.

“I’ll be fine, Liliandra.” Ash knew Lilia disliked her first name. “It’s loooooooong” she complained. So, he hoped to provoke a reaction out of her. A strawberry red tongue darted out between little white teeth, and Ash felt hope that things would be back to normal soon.

Once Ash had finished his meal, everyone was ushered out by his mother with a sharp word and a gesture. “The boy needs rest and you know it. Now, out.” At the door she stopped and turned around. She looked quietly back at her maimed son and a silent sobs escaped her lips. Fighting against his protesting body Ash wrenched his body out of bed and stumbled slowly toward his mother. At this sight she rushed to her son’s side just in time to catch him as he collapsed.

As they slid to the ground Ash gasped through the pain, “See Mother, I am fine, somewhat.” An attempt at laughter turned into a dry hacking cough. The ebbing pain poured back into Ash head, full force.

As she watch he son fall back into the Darkness, Ash’s mother buried her face in her son hair and whispered, “How are you so strong, when we were so, so weak.”

Ash woke again while the moon sat at her peak. He lay peering out the window, staring at her absolute majesty. He had always felt at home in the night. He enjoyed the day of course, when he could play with his father and his friends, but at night a sense of poised calm settled around him, as if he was cloaked in a shroud of his own self-assurance and nothing could touch him. His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by raised voices downstairs.

“I told you years ago that we should have told him.” His mother’s voice had a cold edge to it, so sharp that Ash flinched.

“There was never a case that became this bad. How was I supposed to know?” Streak of desperation stain his father’s deep baritone.

“No case lasted for ten years! The gift is a blaze that cannot be contained. You must see that!”

“Gift? Ha, don’t you mean curse. I wish I was never born with the gift.”

“Your curse brought you to me, which brought Ash to us, which brought us here, which brought Lilia to us. Have you really regretted your life for the past ten years, all that we have done, all that we have created, together?”

Ash’s father’s voice softened to the point where Ash had to strain to hear. “You know that not what I mean, I have never regretted my life with you and the children, ever. But when we settled here, we swore to place that life behind us.”

“Obviously the gift has different ideas. We’ve always known magic has had a mind of its own.”

Magic! Ash’s heart pounded so loudly it threatened to shut out the voices below.

A low rumbling voice announced Vale’s presence. “Would you like to hear my opinion?”

With a heavy sigh, Ash’s father said, “I suppose, nothing could hurt at this point.”

“If this something that truly can’t be avoided, then I believe that it’d be better to introduce it sooner rather than later. Even with my limited knowledge of the subject, I know that if you cannot control the magic, the magic will control you.”

Magic. There was that word again. Who were his parents and Vale speaking of? Ash could not believe it was him. There was not a spark of magic within him. Magic belonged to gods and heroes of legend. Ash had lived his entire life on a small farm far from any royal courts or ancient temples. Yet, could magic be the source of all his problems? His lost time, was that a side effect of magic? Just as Ash had told Mister Skraven, he had very little knowledge of magic, and even less to compare his own experiences to. The voices below fell to other things and Ash had no interest in listening anymore. His thoughts raced of the possibilities now open to him. If he was a mage what kind of mage would he be? A fire mage, dancing among the flame abounding with bravery; a water mage, calm headed and quick witted; an air mage, flitting among the clouds; maybe a earth mage, stoic, unbreakable; his head was a blur of fantastical thoughts. He finally fell asleep his imaginings still buzzing in his ear.

Ash woke the next day believing that he had had his first dream. After all, there was no way his quiet rural family could have anything to do with magic. Ash chuckled to himself as he went to wash for breakfast. It had rained later the previous night and the rain basin was filled to the brim with brisk water. The icy water shocked the last fanciful ideas from his mind. Walking into the kitchen he was greeted by the family sight of his family sitting around the table. Then Ash stopped.

“Morning, boy.” Vale never woke before the morning chores were done. He despised rising early and Ach could hear it in the way the croak out his greeting.

Ash pushed his questions aside. He was adamant to forget these queer past few day and return to his enjoyable life. Breakfast conversation was usual enough, but these were some constant undercurrent of tension that was palatable. It did not mix well with Ash’s salt pork and he quickly lost his appetite. As he sat there listening to the acquainted table conversations thoughts of the previous night kept intruding upon his bliss. Just who were his parents speaking of; if not him then who else, Lilia? Ash tried to imagine his sister as an all-powerful magus. Lilia caught his eye.

“Why’re looking at me?” At this Ash could contain himself no longer. Laughter burst forth, shaking him so hard, it threatened to unseat him. Unfortunately his outburst had broken the illusion. The mother and father glanced worryingly at him and then at each other.  Vale was silent.

“Lilia, Vale is going to take you to town now. You can pick out some new lace and I will show you how to hem your dress,” Ash’s mother said softly. Her smile was kind, but her eye allowed no argument. Lilia did not spot this, however, and just squealed with joy.

Once Lilia was packed and Vale had coin in hand, they were off. After watching them disappear over the horizon, Ash’s parents turned to face him again. Again they looked at each other. Ash felt unease building in the depths of his chest.

“Ash, come into the house. We need to talk.” Ash trailed his mother back into his house, his father coming up behind. “Do you want anything, tea, coffee? How something to eat?”

“Dear, please sit down.” Ash’s father gestured for Ash’s mother to sit down. His face seemed older than Ash had ever seen before. “Son, we need to talk.”

“Ash, we have never told you about our past and there is a reason behind this.” Ash’s mother eyes bored into him. “We, your father and I, participated in the GuangHei War.”

“What-. I don’t understand. That’s not possible.  You’re too young-.” Mister Skraven’s words echoed through Ash’s head. Certain Magi age slower than most.

Ash’s father saw the recognition in Ash’s eye and smiled. It was a sad smile. “You need to know, son. We-, we lost that war.”

Ash felt momentary confusion replaced by a horrific understanding. Strength drained from his body as he went limp. Mouth gaping like a dead fish, Ash gasped, “Som-Via…”

Overwhelming strength slammed back into Ash’s body. He leapt from the table, his chair flying across the room. Seeing his reaction, his parent began to rise as well, but they were too slow. Ash tore through the house. He needed to leave, now. Seeing the front door, Ash put on a burst of speed. As he approached the door the air coalesced around him. The closer he came to the door the hard it was to push through the dense atmosphere. When he finally reached the door, Ash felt relief flood his body. He had almost escaped, until thick cobwebs sprang from the frame in the door building upon itself until there was a thick wall standing between him and the outside. The material was more tensile than anything Ash had encountered. He pawed frantically at the barrier but as quickly as he tore it down it rebuilt itself stronger and thicker than before. The thin fibrous strands began to cut into his flesh, bead of blood seeped through his skin, and soon his hands were slick with blood. The thick air was difficult to breathe making Ash light headed. First, he stumbled before falling bodily to the ground. Suddenly the air was normal once again. Ash clambered up to his feet ready to attack the wall once again. A footfall behind him made ash whip around.

“Sweetheart please listen-. Your hands!” His mother rushed toward him. Ash scrabbled backwards pressing himself as far as possible into the thick wall behind.

“Stay away from me!” Ash screamed.

Crackling energies exploded from his father’s arms. “Boy, you will not speak like that to your mother!” Multicolored lightening spat and crackled around his father, the pure power at his command create an aura like glow. Ash was mesmerized.

Ash slowly brought his panic under the barest of his control. His mother tried to approach him again.

“Dearest, sweetheart, we would never hurt you. Please.” Speaking softly like she was calming a frenzied beast, Ash’s mother crawled forward.

Upon her touch Ash moaned out, “No.” Regaining his control Ash spoke almost a sob, “Please, not yet. I’m not ready yet.”

Ash’s mother nodded once and retreated a few steps away. The crackling furies dissipated around his father. Again Ash saw the age in his eyes. “Please son, you need to understand. We never wished this on you, which is why we never spoke of this. But it has come to the point where your life is in danger. You mother and I have seen thing that no one should, but there was no other way.”

Ash rose shakily to his feet. His mother and father kept their distance still, afraid they would scare him off again. Ash slowly made his way back to the kitchen, shaking legs barely holding on. He was scarcely a few steps away when he unescapably staggered. Before he could fall, his parents were there supporting him as they had done throughout his life. By this point Ash was too exhausted to care, and he let himself collapse into their tender embrace.

They settled him on a chair at the main table. The ordeal had exhausted Ash to the point where could not hold his head straight. It lolled to one side rocking back and forth.

“Son, you going to have to come to terms with who and what you are if you are going to survive as a Magus,” Ash’s father said softly.

Rage bolstered Ash’s strength so that he could stand again. “Who I am! All my life, you’ve told me that the Som-Via were horrors, that they were evil, they were scourge of the earth, they did terrible, unspeakable things. Now you tell me that I am one of them. Tell me, how am I supposed to feel?!”

“We know, son-.”

“You told me that they almost singlehandedly destroyed out world!”

“We know-.”

“You told me that they were slaves to the Darkness!”

“We know-.”

“You said that they were the embodiment of every nightmare I never had, that they brought fear to life, that they were evil in its purest form!”

“We know! We know…”

Ash could not look at their anguished faces any longer. Softening his voice, he said, “And now you tell me you are them, along with me.”

“We know…” His mother’s voice was the barest whisper, but it carried sadness of untold years.

Ash’s father spoke. “Son, you need to understand. Magic is a living thing, and although it is neither good nor evil, it represents humanity in its most primal form. A Magus’s power is tied directly to a certain emotion: an Ignus Magus’s courage, an Aquitain Magus’s judgment, a Terruah Magus’s stoic strength, an Aerea Magus’s love of freedom. But for Som-Via like us, our power is channeled through our dreams, our hopes and fears, the basest forms of who we are. If you do not learn to control your emotions, the magic will control you.”

“Sweetheart, a blissful normal life is all we ever wished for you, and it’s still is possible. But you need to learn to control your gift. You understand, right?”

Ash was exhausted and tired of fighting what seemed inevitable. He gave a resigned nod, the merest movement of his head. As if on cue, Ash parents visibly relax at the sight.

“Why not go rest?” his father said. “There is nothing more to do today. Your training will begin tomorrow. Do not exhaust yourself. This is not an ordeal you can pass in a few days’ time.”

Ash trundled down the hall to his room before collapsing on his bed. Weariness seeped from every bone in his body. Bet even as his body gave way to rest, his mind raced. He flew through his memories, trying to grasp any time he had shown an inclination of being a Magus. Then he remembered. He remembered his precious nameless friend and the last time he had seen him. Could he have caused his owl to appear? He faintly remembered the creatures strange disappearing act, but it could easily have been a trick of the light, or maybe not. Maybe this power was not as inherently evil as he had been led to believe. It had allowed him to say a final goodbye to his dear friend. A smile lingered on his face as he melted back into the Darkness of sleep.

Ash awoke later that evening just as Lilia and Vale were returning. She had brought the same white lace as before but miraculously she had somehow convinced Vale to buy her a periwinkle blue ribbon for her hair. Lilia was uncontrollable bundle of joy, and it was infectious. That night was filled with unadulterated laughter and exuberance. Yet there was something else. Something beyond the sense. Ash swore he could catch a glimpse of it out of the scant corner of his eye. It was a foreboding of things to come, a warning that this could not last, the calm before the building storm.

Ash woke with a start. The tension in the air had not dissipated. Instead it had grown thick during the night. Ash had slept uneasily, fitful, constantly waking. Bleary-eyed, he stumbled to the wash basin. After he had washed his face and comb his hair into submission, Ash walked into the kitchen still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He halted. Again there was Vale. He looked like death. Vale’s eyes were red as blood, his hair a tangled mess. The man looked like a broken doll left out in harsh weather.

“Morning son,” Ash father said.

Vale clapped his hand over his ears like Ash’s father had shouted. “Blasted damn, what do you mean good?” he growled.

“You look like a grumpy, old bear woken before the thaw. Here, this might help.” Ash’s mother chuckled and handed Vale a mug of hot steaming black tea.

“What, no more coffee? This morning keeps getting better.” Vale to a sip and look away in disgust. “Never will understand how them easterner drink this spittle.” At the familiar banter, Ash relaxed. He sat down at the table ready to tuck into his breakfast. Then at the look his father gave him, Ash’s shoulders tensed immediately.

“As I said yesterday, your training begins now. Vale will train you first while I gather the necessary material for the more advance training.”

“Yes, sir.” Ash rarely called his father sir but it felt right for that moment.

“Okay let us begin.” Vale stood.

“But, breakfast?”

“Not today, boy. You’ll want an empty stomach today.” Vale walked out of the kitchen.

Ash scrambled to follow as the gnawing in his stomach grew, from both hunger and apprehension. Walking out of the house, they headed towards the woods.

“Are you a Magus as well, Vale?” Ash asked.

“No.”

“But how can you teach me to be a Magus then?”

Vale whirled around. “Listen, boy. A Magus must above all have stamina. Every spell you cast expends power. Therefore, the more stamina you have the more spells you can cast. Understand?”

Ash did not answer. Vale had never been so curt with him before. He hurried to follow as Vale turned again toward the forest, his voice floating back over his shoulder.

“I was a Royal Scout of His Majesty’s army. We have the greatest stamina of anyone in the Seven Kingdoms.”

Ash caught up beside Vale at the forest edge and the two stood side by side, simply staring into the underbrush. Then a thought occurred to Ash.

“Wait. If you were a scout then did you not fight against the Som-Via?” Ash turned to look at Vale. But he was gone.

After some momentary panic, Ash thought he saw a flash of color through the veil of emerald green and sprinted off in that direction. As he ran, Vale’s voice reverberated through the wood, seeming to come at Ash from every direction.

“First lesson is simple, boy. Catch me.”

*****

For hours, Ash tore around the woods. He could never grasp exactly where Vale was, just a general direction.  He would always catch just a fleeting glance of fabric before it disappeared again. Ash knew Vale was playing with him so he just let his own frustration carry him on. Soon though ash began to tire, his belly ached for food making Ash every angrier at his denied breakfast. He tore through the forest even more haphazardly tearing through bushes, flying at every sound he heard. None of this helped and shortly he was worse off than before. Cover with grime on the verge of giving up, Ash stumbled around the forest, but it seemed every time he stopped to rest a pebble or stick flew at him from the brush. His anger would flare and again he would tear off into the forest again. This cycle repeated itself until almost sunset. Finally Ash gave up. He ignored all the forest matter thrown at him. Finally one well place shot cracked into his temple and he saw white. Too tired to fight the exhaustion, Ash collapsed to the ground unable, unwilling to stand again. Before falling unconscious, Ash remembered Vale materializing from the wood to carry him back to the house.

Ash woke only once to eat a warm hearty dinner before he let the softness of his covers carry him off to the Darkness. He awoke the next morning in agonizing pain. He did not realize he was screaming until he heard Lilia crying. He bit his lip until it bled but did not scream any more. He refused to let his precious younger sister suffer with him. Muscle screaming in protest Ash made his way into the kitchen. Vale was waiting for him. Together they went off into the forest only for the trial to begin again. Days continued like this, Ash would chase until he collapsed and Vale would carry him back home. Every day, though, Ash could run longer, father, than the day before. Ash became frustrated with the slow progress, sick of waking in indescribable pain, but he did not give up. Eventually he was able to run the entire day without rest. Yet, it seemed he still came no closer to catching Vale. Finally, he decided to change the routine.

This time he refused to leave until he ate breakfast. Vale only smiled a knowing grin at him. Afterwards, Vale led Ash out the woods once again. Soon Ash realized his mistake. Instantly his body felt heavier and more cumbersome. Before the sun had even reached its peak Ash vomited. Ash could not move for almost an hour until the dry heaves had past. Then, covered with his own partially digested breakfast, Ash decided to make his own way back to the house to at least change clothes. But every time he came close to leaving, the forest debris seemed to rise from all around him and throw itself en masse at him. Soon the heat and stench from his clothes made Ash begin dry heaving once again. He had to settle for diving bodily into the river to clean the worst of it off. Then the cycle continued. Vale teased Ash. Ash became irate, chased, and then gave up. Again Vale teased Ash. Again Ash chased. By sunset, Ash had almost been brought to tears. With every move he could feel his body tearing itself apart. By some miracle, he found an old fox den. Being so young, he was small enough to crawl in. Ash no longer cared to catch Vale. The only thing on his mind was rest. So he rested.

By the time he woke it was already night. Sticking his head out of the den, he could hear absolute silence. But, slowly, the sounds of the forest began to filter into Ash’s ears: the chirp of insects, soft hoots of owls, the dry crackling of leaves under padded feet, and in the background the sound of a human voice calling his name, growing louder and louder by the second. Here was his chance. Ash heart began to race. Suddenly all the sound faded, replaced by a pounding in his ears. He realized that his excitement was blocking out the outside world. Ash slowed his breathing and gradually his heart slowed and faded away. He could faintly hear the sounds of Vale footsteps now. It took all of Ash’s strength to keep his breathing steady and shallow, to keep his body under control. Closer, closer.

“Boy! I can smell you from a mile away. How do you think I found you in the first place?”

Ash startled and again he sounds of the forest were drowned out by his own thundering heartbeat. Ash muttered a curse under his breath.  He crawled out of the foxhole ready to begin the torturous game again. A crack split the air and Ash whirled around. Vale was leaning casually against the truck of a tree, broken stick in hand.

“It’s late. Time to go home, boy.”

Ash just stared at the grizzled old veteran. How had he done that? The last Ash heard he was still quite a distance away. The pounding in Ash’s ears grew louder and louder the longer he looked at the smug grin on Vale’s face. Suddenly, Ash saw something that confused him. Was that pride in Vale’s face? But why? Ash had failed the test just as he did so many times before. What was different this time? Ash was silent for the rest of the night, pondering over these questions. He spoke to no one during his late dinner and immediately went to his room afterward. Lying in his bed, his mind raced over the events of the day. The only thing Ash could remember doing was refusing to follow Vale’s orders. Then he realized. Vale had never told him he could not eat breakfast, only that he should not. Also, Vale had never said he could not rest; he just had never given Ash a chance. Ash realized that there was no way he, a ten year old boy, could beat Vale, a veteran of the greatest war the land had ever seen, in a pure foot race. Ash had to out think Vale not out run him. Ash went to sleep early. Now, he had a plan.

The next day Ash woke before the sun. He snuck out the house making as little sound as possible. His plan was simple. Why chase Vale? Why not wait for Vale to come to him? Ash’s heart thundered with anticipation. Finding a tall tree, Ash climbed as high as he could, settled himself between two branches and waited. Today was the day he ended this hellish test, he told himself. Ash waited. The sun rose. Ash waited. It grew warm. Ash still waited. He legs soon began shaking from the exertion. Every time his leg spasmed, it would send shiver down the braches he stood on. It was midday before Ash caught even a glimpse of Vale. Then from nowhere a branch whistled through the air coming to a sudden halt at the back of Ash’s head. Ash’s legs completely gave away sending him plummeting to the ground. Thankfully Ash had picked a rather full tree whose branches and leaves slowed his fall before letting him crash bodily into the ground. Ash spun frantically searching for Vale who he knew would be nearby. Seeing nothing and no one, Ash tore off in a random direction. Ash furious anger carried him on till midnight when he finally collapsed, again.

The next day Ash woke before the sun again, set on his plan. Again, Vale found him before Ash saw a thing. Again and again, day after day, the cycle continued with no progress. Ash soon was almost out of him mind with anger. How could he not notice Vale at all? He had climbed as high as he possibly could just to see Vale coming. His body was covered with bruises from the numerous falls he had taken. He was up all hours of the night agonizing over the answer to this question. Finally, he gave up. He just lay in his bed, to tired and discouraged to sleep. He focused on the sound of the night in the hope it would relax him enough to be ready for the next day’s ordeal. Then the memory of the foxhole came to him. He realized he had heard Vale long before he saw him, felt his footsteps in the ground. Ash felt so foolish. Again he had let his nervousness, his anticipation, his emotions, control him, but now he knew better. Ash smiled.

Once more, Ash woke early and secreted out into the forest. The sun had not even peak over the horizon yet, but Ash was impatient. He stumbled around the forest for hours until he found the perfect spot, a foxhole buried deep in few bushes. Ash slithered in, spooking the family of rabbits that now occupied the den. Muttering a quiet apology, Ash settled down for a long wait, hoping his patience could last. Ash closed his eyes, slowed his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. The rush of blood through his ears faded to silence. Replacing it were the sound of the world. Ash lost himself in everything. Slowly, the sounds filtered in: the low harsh breathing of predators, the quick gasps of their prey. The cool night breeze wove its way through branches. The rustling leaves whispered to each other in a language all their own. Ash wondered if he listened long enough, would he eventually understand their dialect. Realizing that his mind was drifting, Ash tried to focus but could not. Self had completely melded with that of the forest. His consciousness seeped out until it touched the boundary of the woods. Ash could feel the forest in all its glory. He slowly swayed with the billowing trees. Felt the trembling of creatures crawling under the mossy ground. He flinched as the double-quick heartbeat was violently ended. Ash had never realized how vibrant the woods were. Yet even with the thrum of life thundering through the trees, there was certain natural calm. A certain easy grace that came with an existence of thousands of years and the knowledge that one will exist for thousands more. Suddenly there was a shift, just on the edge of Ash’s senses. It prickled on the edge of Ash’s nose like a single rotten apple that spoiled the batch, but the scent was faint. This was someone who had experience at staying hidden. This was Vale.

Ash could track Vale’s presence through the forest, as if he was watching him from the eyes of a hawk. Before he even decided to, Ash was sprinting through the forest. He whirled around trees he did not bother to see, bound over fallen logs in a fevered rush toward Vale. Yet there was a particular serenity to his actions, like he did not need to rush; he had no need to hurry. He moved because he wanted to. With the power of the woodlands steeping in his veins, he no longer bothered with the bindings of society, the rules and laws of man. The forest was unbound and through their Link so was he. It was freeing; it was maddening.

He lighted gracefully over protruding roots that would have tripped up the most seasoned woodsman. He navigated through this forest, his forest, without effort because the forest allowed him to. By now Ash had complete given in. His existence had completely intertwined with that of the forest. The forest was effortless in its existence and so was he. Grabbing a low hanging branch, Ash whipped his body up and into the trees. The branches gave easily to his weight. Flying through the treetops, leaves seemed to part for his way. Every branch he grabbed shifted only ever so slightly, just another tree swaying in the breeze. Ash leapt from branch to branch, swung from tree to tree, more animal than man until he came upon Vale.

The grizzled old veteran was shuffling along staring intently at the ground. Every minute or so, he would bend down and select a piece of dirt or a leaf, rub it between his fingers, smell it. Ash felt himself smile at the sight. What a simpleton. Ash did not need to track his prey; he always knew where everyone was in the forest, in his forest. But this was not enough. For days now, Vale had made a fool of him. Played him as the hunted but now he was the hunter, and he would pay the humiliation back in kind, the law of the wilds demanded it. He did not smirk as if he had thought of some mischief, but rather his face was a serene, a scene of calm impassivity. He started to undo the tie on his pants, preparing to urinate on the unwary manservant. Just as the knot came undone Ash caught himself. What was he doing? Was he really no better than a simple animal? He was raised to be a proper man. Proper men do not urinate on people! Ash tore his self away from the forest. The sudden return to his own conscious unbalanced him. Ash tottered for a moment before plunging headfirst toward the ground. His eyes snapped shut, anticipating the bone crushing jar that would split his skull like ripe fruit. Ash crashed through a few more branches when he came to a sudden halt. By some miracle his pant leg had snagged between two branches, catching him a handbreadth above the hard earth. When Ash opened his eyes, Vale was staring directly at him. It was then that Ash realized that his most private places were dangling in the open air for all to see. In a scrabbling attempt to cover himself, Ash’s leg came untangled and he crashed to the ground. Her watched as Vale walked calmly to the tree and cut down Ash’s breeches. Turning around, Vale merely stared, eyebrow raised in a question.

“I-. I didn’t-. What I mean is-.” Ash was still fumbling for an apology when Vale held up his hand.

“All that matters is that you learned the lesson I wanted to teach you. And more it seems.” Vale handed Ash his clothes and start off toward the house.

“Still Vale, I want to apologize. I didn’t know what I was doing. It was like I was watching myself. I had no control.”

“I thought you understood what your father told you. If you cannot control your magic it will control you.”

“But that was not magic. That was-.” Truthfully, Ash had no idea what had happened.

“What you did there was the most basic of basics when it comes to magic: tuning yourself to the elements. Everything in our world contains a Spark, from you and me to a slab of rock. A Magi’s power comes from their ability to create Links between these sparks, and then impose their will across the link. But as you learned, the elements have a will of their own, and if you’re not careful theirs can overwhelm you.”

 Ash felt a twinge of fear at this. He had witnessed how powerful and ancient the forest was firsthand. Could he really control such an unbending force?

Vale spoke. “This bring us to you next task. Every day after your morning chores you are to come here and meditate, after which I want you to walk.”

“Walk?”

“Walk in a straight line with your eyes closed. Do not stop until you run into a tree or branch.”

“I don’t understand. What use is my breaking my nose on a tree?”

Vale sighed. “The point is to not break anything, you or the forest. Bend the forest to you will. Force it to give way to you.”

“Ah.” Ash walked back to the house in silence.

 That night the family held a small celebration in honor of Ash passing his first test. Even Vale sang a song, a haunting melody of fallen friends that made Lilia climb into Ash’s lap looking for the familiar comfort of his warmth. Instead, he tickled her. It was a good night, and by the end, Ash felt more at ease. But as he lay in bed he could not help think of the eternal strength that the forest commanded and how, if at all, he could control it. Ash finally decided that he could do naught but take it one step at a time. After all he was still young, and time enough he had.

*****