On The 3rd Day

I was already late in following you by two full days, so I didn’t want to have any more delays. I took the bare essentials and made my way into the forest. Your trail was much easier to follow than I thought it would be; the ashes from your campfires combined with the odd tracks that your boots left in the soft earth made it a fairly simple task.

The day after setting out to find you, I made camp at the base of a small hill, and the recent sign of disturbance in the undergrowth led me to believe that you were close. It was just an instinct, but since my instincts were rarely off target I decided to follow it. As soon as the morning mist thinned out I started my way up the hill. When I made it to the summit I could see in the valley below that there was a cabin surrounded by groves of trees I’d never seen before. Near the sides of the cabin were what looked like planted rows of crops. It looked too good to be true. Unbelief turning into curiosity, and curiosity hardening into caution, I ambled my way down the side of the hill, trying not to make too much noise, and approached the cabin.

The land surrounding it was flat and grassy. Hills enclosed the enclave on three sides, and facing the cabin’s front was a natural path that weaved through the mountains. As I snuck around to the back and examined the strange plants and the rows of crops, it dawned on me that this must be some sort of special refuge or hideout, though for who and for what purpose I could only guess. The cabin itself was remarkably intact. I’d seen enough ruined towns and cities in these hills to know when something’s abandoned, and this cabin was clearly still being occupied and cared for. With this in mind I looked through the back windows before entering to see if anyone was inside. It looked like a storage room for farming tools. There some rakes, some hoes, a few bags with dark dirt in them, but no one in sight.

I entered through the back door into the tool shed, and it looked as though I could enter the main part of the cabin through the door on the other side of the room. I opened the door slowly, trying to be careful, only for it make a very loud creaking sound that echoed through the entire cabin. Knowing damn well that all subtlety had been lost I simply threw the door open and entered. It opened into a hallway with three doors on each wall going down. It looked like an inn or a dormitory of some kind. I pressed on towards what I believed was the kitchen, all the while wondering whether I should use my sigil on the people who might be there.

The sigil was a series of concentric circles and glyphs that began on my hand and wrapped themselves around my entire right arm, stopping at my collar bone. You gave it to me as a gift for my 18th birthday, after I begged you to draw me one. The process was painful as hell, and it had to done in steps. It took a whole month for you to finish drawing it, from the first part of the sigil on the palm of my hand, to the last part around my shoulder. It was only after the feeling came back to my arm a week later that you told me what the sigil was for and how to use it.

“Complete deconstruction,” you told me.

“What the hell is deconstruction?” I said, rubbing my burning arm.

“I guess destruction would be a simpler way of putting it.”

You thought about how to explain it to me. You looked around at the bushes, the trees, and a few birds flying overhead before you finally took a deep breath.

“That sigil, simply put, will let you break down matter on a molecular level, essentially allowing you to tear anything apart.”

“Yeah, but how do I use it?” I said, looking confused at my arm. “I mean, you always talk about magic and shit, but you never talk about how it's done, besides saying someone just did it.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you. To start with…”

“Magic is an innate force of nature,” I began whispering.

The instructions had become a mantra that I said to myself whenever I was stressed or needed to calm myself down. As I searched the kitchen, cluttered with barrels, cabinets and the like, I knew I had to find some way not to tear the whole place down looking for you. I checked one of the counters first. Sitting on it was a bowl, a pestle, and on a white cloth next to them was a red powdery substance.

“Using magic means drawing from this force…”

I dabbed some of the powder on my finger and took a whiff: it had a strong and familiar smell, like the bales of hay that I remembered playing in as a child. The taste was bitter but it didn’t seem like it was poisonous or caustic. I wiped it off my finger and checked the cupboard stationed above the counter.

“…to perform some action or to effect change in the physical world.”

There were cans of various vegetables lining every shelf. I picked from the lowest one. I was sweet corn. It might taste less than great but like you always told me: as long as the seal isn’t broken it’s still good to eat, no exceptions. I take a few of them and put them into my bag.

“To draw from the magical force one must either have a sigil that guides the energy…”

I moved on to check the sink. It was filled with water, and floating in it were colorful fruits I’d only seen painted on the faces of cans. I decided not to eat them since I didn’t know how they needed to be prepared for consumption. I turned the handle for the faucet but nothing came out. The sink must’ve been filled with rainwater that the owner had brought in. Then again I should’ve known better. Sinks never work. I turned to the table at the center of the room.

“…or be born with an inherent connection to it; such a person is called a mage.”

On the table were flowers, bulbs, grasses, and various carved effigies of what seemed to be a woman with her hands together. There was also a bag on the table with a large number of chestnuts spilling out. Five chairs had been placed at the table, all of them in good condition. One chair, however, had been knocked over on the side of the table across from me. I moved towards it.

“To perform, one must use the mind to gather the energy along the desired lines of power…”

Next to it, to my indescribable shock, was the wooden framed backpack that you took on your journey here. I bent down to check its contents; three of your canteens were empty and six pouches of your meat were eaten. To me there were two possibilities: you came to this place to rest and would be back after a short while, or got murdered and robbed, and the robbers simply left this to lure anyone dumb enough to come find you. Just at that moment I saw something shuffle in the shadow of the room’s corner. I moved to address it. The final part of my soothing mantra parted my lips.

“…focus it, and then project it into the world, performing the desired action.”

As I moved closer the shadow revealed itself to be a small girl, blonde and 15 years old at most. She sobbed as she huddled into her corner, and as I was about to speak to her to try and get some information, a peculiar smell overwhelmed me: a strong and familiar smell, like the bales of hay that I remembered playing in as a child. Last I checked powders couldn’t get up and walk.

I turned to look behind me only to see a red haired woman about to swing a chair down at me. Right as it was about to connect I swung my hand at the chair, and my magic tore it into a thousand splinters that blew in her face. The flashing arches of energy stunned her and she took a few steps back. As I stood up, another figure came at me from my left. She made a much slower approach, dropped her knife, and raised her hands as a sign of surrender. I could see that this brunette had been hiding in an overturned barrel; the redhead had been doing the same with a barrel whose mouth was turned away from the back entrance. In both cases it would’ve been impossible to see either of them if one came in from the back, and a front entry would’ve been greeted with a chair to the face or a knife to the head. They’d been expecting someone.

“Please, please,” She got on her knees. “We meant you no harm. Sable merely confused you for another.”

“SHHHH!” hissed Sable. “Hush, Fara! We don’t know whether he sent her.”

“Wait,” I said, more confused than ever. “Who the hell are you people?”

Fara stood up and composed herself with a deep breath. “We are the caretakers of this wood, those who tend to Mother’s bounty. We’re…”

“The Sisters of the Sacred Grove.”

The voice came from the back entrance where I’d come from. In the doorway was an older man with a full head of grey hair and a smug look on his scarred face. He clapped upon entering the room, showing a flair for the dramatic. And then he dragged something into the room with him. It was you, bloodied and missing your legs from the knees down. Your breathing was so shallow and so slow I thought you were already gone.

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of this garden all winter." The old man said.

"Now, as for you, young lady," he said, pointing your face to me.

"You either kill The Sisters and go, or I kill your friend here.”

Fara’s composed grace fell apart, and the look of panic and impending death took its place. Sable looked like she was thinking of killing me before I killed any of them, and while I couldn’t see blondie in the back, I could hear her increased whimpering.

I didn’t give a damn about any of it. Not that I had any qualms about killing the Sisters, things killed by magic won’t come back as undead, but I only wanted one thing. I’d known my answer before he’d asked.

“How about you let go of my friend, and I don’t blow your head up like a fucking melon?”

It was at this point that I started walking towards him. I was certain that he wanted to live, and that he knew the act of killing you would guarantee his melon-like fate. He was as horrified as I knew he’d be.

“Okay, listen! We can talk this out!”

He started backing away. “Please!”

“Too late for that,” I said, rounding the table to get to him.

I was only two feet in front of him and he was visibly trembling. In one last attempt he took a swipe at me with a blade of blood he pulled from his arm. Uncoordinated as he was, I managed to duck under it and grabbed his face. I gathered, focused, projected, and then his head exploded. Just like a melon.

The aftermath was less important to me than the fact that you were still alive, but for clarity’s sake I’ll go over it. The Sisters were grateful, and allowed us to stay at the enclave. It turned out to be the perfect place to bring the whole camp. It took a week to get everyone and everything here, but considering how fertile the land is, it was well worth the effort. The Sisters got to add some members to their group to make up for those lost, plus some added security, and we hopefully get a permanent location for the group.

Standing out here on the front porch of the cabin with you, it's humbling to see everything we've worked for come together like this. I can't complain. If I could have one lasting impact on the world, this doesn’t seem like such a bad thing for it to be.

It’s happening again. Just when I thought I was strong enough hold the tears in.

“Magic is an innate force of nature.”