I have always found solace in the raw expanse of the natural world.
There is a visceral, undeniable current that pulses through this wilderness.
Our elders spoke of this sensation as the ambient magic itself—a boundless energy that surrounds and envelops us, allowing us to better harness its power.
"N-non... nonsense."
The answer was a whisper to a question the silent forest had never posed.
Nature is, in truth, the genesis of our existence, the cradle of humanity. And it is where we will inevitably meet our dissolution. All things must crumble, and our remains shall nourish the very earth we abandon.
They claimed this was the place where magic-wielders found their true belonging; for me, at least, that assertion rings true.
Even the close sounds of imminent carnage, a din that grated against my battered ears, and the slow creep of lost consciousness from the draining blood, could not wholly quash this unexpected calm within my chest.
I am, by the way, Ferith.
The tired archetype of the protagonist.
What is my outward appearance? What destiny does my potential hold? Will I, in the crucial, climactic moment, rescue the maiden? Will my specific tale serve to inspire the next generation?
Does this narrative truly diverge from the thousand others that came before it in any meaningful measure?
As hollow as the query may sound, the judgment rests with those who come after.
"D-damn you, Uncle... I was content within that f-forest. You should have l-left me there..."
To murmur life's regrets while fading into the chasm of oblivion is the clearest prelude to the end of one's road.
How did I arrive at this precipice?
Ah, yes...
I received correspondence.
——
"Oyy, Ferith! There's an owl for ya!"
I wheeled around, following a fool's instinct, and instantly severed the mental tether to his will.
( CRACK )
Big Leonard—the name I had presumptuously given my soon-to-be Gryphon—did not appreciate the invasive images I had forced upon his mind. Released from my control, he exacted immediate retribution.
The impact of his great beak was jarring, potent enough to sting my eyes with involuntary tears. I landed without grace, my arms stiffly splayed, the sudden failure of my muscles sending me bucking, face-first, into the cold mud.
"Ferith! Watch out!"
I did not need to see the threat, yet Rimel, a trusted friend privy to my peculiar ways, should have exercised more faith in my innate abilities.
( KLANG )
A light blue, shimmering shield materialized an instant before the bird's razor-sharp talons struck the barrier and ricocheted harmlessly away.
Shields save lives, I thought, even as a warning: Never attempt to tame an ancient beast without one.
Leonard's confusion was palpable. Seconds passed as he analyzed the scene, wondering what calamity had befallen him and why his supposed prey remained utterly unaffected by his aggression.
In fact, the mouthful of mud I'd almost swallowed did more to distract me than the deadly beast, momentarily eclipsing the brutal, splitting ache in my head.
His bewilderment was short-lived. Given the opportunity, Leonard swiftly ascended into the sky, disappearing from view within moments.
I rose, watching his form vanish over the horizon, a sight that settled like lead in my stomach.
"Damn it... I wanted to execute that ascent." I bemoaned my terrible luck.
I had been mere minutes from securing my very own Gryphon—an illegally acquired one, but a Gryphon nonetheless.
Footsteps and the cracking of fallen foliage sounded behind me.
"Um... I suppose that was, in part, my fault?"
The voice behind me was the audible embodiment of two wasted hours. Even his tone grated on my already frayed nerves.
"No... no." I sighed with dramatic flourish. "It is entirely my fault for neglecting to erect signs declaring the importance of my work... yet again!"
I turned, stumbling more than walking toward Rimel, stopping only inches from his face.
"...People typically take a quick assessment before they start yelling, but..."
"This situation presented itself as super easy to misunderstand," he interjected, looking everywhere but at me.
My rant curtailed and my afternoon irrevocably ruined, I slumped onto the nearest flat surface, allowing the mental fatigue to engulf me.
My head throbbed. My arms ached. My pride had been thoroughly trampled by the earth, and most crushingly, the chance to become a Gryphon rider had slipped through my fingers.
My magic reserves slowly recovered with every deliberate breath. I realized a grim truth: had he attacked with his talons from the outset, I would be dead. His simple-minded choice to attempt to peck me into submission had, ironically, saved my life.
"Hmph... hmph..."
The tranquil symphony of the river and the ambient sounds of animals and insects were suddenly shattered by the thoughtless intrusion of my friend.
I surveyed the sweating, unfortunate man beside me and sighed once more.
"...Explain."
"What?" He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
I awarded him the prize for the worst diversionary attempt.
"The owl, Rim. You screamed. Cough cough... damn it, mud..."
I attempted to articulate, but had to spend several moments clearing my mouth.
"And furthermore, why was that news necessitating a shout? Why the need to deliver the message in person?"
"...It's your uncle, mate," he muttered under his breath.
He produced a magically sealed letter and waited patiently.
Instead of further discourse, I accepted the letter and strode toward the river to wash away the mud and my mounting annoyance.
We were currently ensconced within the deep woods of Transylvania. The owl must have witnessed an extraordinary journey, traveling from France to this secluded location.
I knelt by the river, cleansing my hands and face, allowing a pair of squirrels to regard me from the opposite bank. One tilted its head, holding its gaze until I deliberately splashed water in its direction.
Noisy, impertinent creatures.
They are not to be trusted.
After a few extra scoops of clean, crisp water to banish the last unpleasant taste from my mouth, I used a precise flick of my inherent power to sever the wax seal.
As the tiny puff of smoke dissipated from the ruptured seal, a familiar magical signature enveloped me. I hadn't sensed his energetic presence since childhood. Back then, it felt comforting and warm; now, it carried nothing but the cold, immense strength of the man himself.
The parchment unfurled itself, and his voice, clear as the noon sun, cut through the forest's tranquil ambient noise.
< Brat! It's good to know you're still extant. I'm only jesting—I always know. I bet you're currently wondering why this old, prodigiously talented bastard has finally chosen to contact me after all these years? Well… a favour, naturally! Listen up…
I lifted my fist, and my raw power crumpled the paper, silencing his booming voice mid-sentence.
A favour, my arrogant ass.
His world is wholly incompatible with mine.
I swiped my hand.
As the parchment instantly ignited and candescent flames consumed the paper, I strode back toward a still-waiting Rimel.
"So? What did he require?" he asked.
Rimel showed signs of being an admirer of my uncle, an eccentricity I generally tolerated since he rarely used it to actively annoy me.
"I incinerated it before the letter could fully manifest," I replied.
The shock on his face was a feast for the eyes. I watched him gaping like a fish for a few satisfying moments before I smiled, gripped his shoulder, and turned him toward the path.
"Come on. We cannot miss supper again. I refuse to subsist on those meager berries for another night."
——
The Transylvanian Border Command for Magical Fauna and Anomalies—or 'T.B.C.M.F.A.'—was a government-sponsored organization with the solitary aim of shielding the country of Romania from its most perilous and…
Who am I trying to deceive? They were little more than magical forest rangers.
But I loved my time here all the same.
The native tongue had been a genuine trial, but after two years of constant exposure via television and radio, I could manage basic conversation when necessary. However, it was rarely necessary; local magic-wielders seldom sought work at the far-flung edges of the world.
I was once told this place was where people came to seek refuge from the real world, to confront their deepest issues, or to simply exist with unresolved burdens.
What a tiresome tool.
Perhaps they should cease their pseudo-philosophical musings and concentrate on their own issues, or better yet, simply work.
The station itself was constructed hundreds of years ago into the side of the Carpathian mountains. The peculiar irony is that not a single person could name its original architect.
Its immense towers dominated the entire mountain range, capable of housing hundreds—a visual and structural masterpiece whose creator is now utterly lost to history.
Well, whoever it was possessed a supreme talent and performed a magnificent job, especially considering the sheer artistry invested in the structure.
Every single inch of the building was crafted entirely of magically reinforced wood and painstakingly carved by hand. They could have used magic, I supposed, but I somehow doubted that choice.
In time, the locals simply came to call it The Taj.
We spoke little on the ascent; Rimel was one of two close friends who knew a reasonable amount about my past, and he understood I wouldn't discuss the letter or my uncle unbidden.
We politely passed a few fellow officers, offering nods. They all wore the same emblem that adorned our own clothes.
Inside the dining hall, the population was sparse; it was Sunday.
Walking further in, we were spotted by our roommate, Pelit.
"Ferith, you have a..."
"I already presented it to him," Rimel interrupted.
We made our way to the food line and acquired the weekend standard: porridge and fruit. At least their offerings were consistent, if not overly plentiful.
But I had a small advantage.
"Martha, my dear, you appear particularly radiant this evening. Pardon my crude delivery."
My flattering words earned me a smile and an extra scoop of fruit, along with a few wary glances from the man standing behind her.
I thought she looked perfectly fine, if slightly robust.
We took our trays, and I attacked the plate.
"So, what did the lett..."
"Hush," Rimel made a few suggestive gestures toward Pelit, effectively, if temporarily, silencing him.
"...er, from your uncle state?" Pelit finished with a defiant grin.
I stopped eating and decided to share the brief incident, as I knew their curiosity was genuine.
---
"...I cannot believe you destroyed the letter. The poor animal must have traversed nearly 3,000 miles to reach us! That is utterly cruel."
I absorbed the jab from our resident animal rights advocate, Pelit, and waited for the other friend to weigh in. Rimel gave a small shrug.
"Well, I think you should have, at minimum, listened to the entire correspondence before opting to dispose of it."
As always, one was loud and outspoken, the other sensible and measured.
"Perhaps so, but it is far too late now."
I feigned disappointment, then returned to my now-cold meal.
"...Perhaps not."
I set my spoon down and began massaging my temples.
"What in the hell are you alluding to, man?"
Rimel produced his wand, and soon my porridge was steaming hot once more.
"We can use chronomancy to reverse the process. All we require is the..."
"Stop, I grasp the concept." I put my hand up; the full explanation would be long-winded. "...But what he wanted is irrelevant; it is all cinders now. Let us eat and..."
As if destiny itself sought to mock me, an owl swooped in just then, landing decisively at the edge of our table. Its large eyes were filled with an unmistakable resentment, as if my actions were the sole reason for its second long-distance trip.
"Look at that," Pelit laughed. "It just became relevant again."
I had half a mind to incinerate this new missive immediately, but Rimel was faster.
His wrist flicked.
The letter, along with the owl itself, flew up with unnatural speed, making the poor bird panic before it was deposited softly back in front of him.
After retrieving the parchment, he let the bird partake in some of his porridge and water, gently patting its head, then held the letter out toward me.
"Come on, Ferith. At least be equitable and read it in its entirety."
It seemed I was cursed by the gods with the one friend who was the constant voice of reason, and another who was watching me with an unnaturally wide grin.
There is no escaping fate.