The Journey to Kroza-Le: The Blood of Magic, #1

By A.D. Harding

Alexia Windrain once thought that she could learn magic.  But when her powers failed to manifest, she lived like a servant under a Master Wizard's thumb, barely tolerated, until one fateful day when she would be viciously betrayed by her old teacher for reasons unknown.  Saved only by a twist of fate (and a talking cat), her only hope for answers lies across the mountains into the Forbidden Land...a place from which non-magic humans have been banished.  Joined by Kaal, the last of the dragons, Alexia must take an odyssey through a world long abandoned and torn apart, through cities haunted by vengeful wraiths, blistering deserts with mysterious predators, and relentless icy wastes hiding wise guardians.  Together, the girl and the dragon will rediscover their courage, protect an ancient magic, and face their demons...if the ruthless Bright Souls don't get there first.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.D. Harding
• Release date: Mar 11, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224388844

A.D. Harding

A.D. Harding is a college graduate with a B.S. in Biology, currently living close to her family and boyfriend in Charleston, West Virginia.  When she's not writing fiction, she's juggling digital art, working on animation, and video-making on rare occasions.  She primarily owns cats and snakes as pets.  The cats claim to be magic themselves.

Book preview

Chapter 1

If this mountain were able to speak, thought Kaal as he circled around for a landing, Surely all that it could do now is weep.

The dragon's slow, spiraling descent took him down toward the crumbling top of a stone tower ruin; a very large tower at that, which could dwarf any castle battlement, and protruded from the side of the valley's largest peak.  It was as if the rock itself had grown the windowed towers, so large as to be impossible for any human to build.  Behind and around him stretched a quiet, mossy and overgrown valley of green and stone.  The clouds overhead obscured the entirety of the sky, and there was the smell of a coming storm; the sparse light made no glint on his jeweled violet and cobalt scales.

Rearing himself up and braking the air with his wide leathery wings, he all but gingerly touched his hind talons onto the dust-caked surface and felt it quake beneath his bulk.  He had to hop to avoid a piece of masonry that had fallen from the structure, and down to the misty growth below.

Though he did his best to ignore the echo the piece of the tower made with every strike to wall and tree and ground, it only hammered into Kaal's mind how silent everything else was.

Beneath his claws, far buried under a hollow, cavernous darkness, there lay the decayed remains of a city...the tower upon which he stood only hid a part of what the mountain had to offer once.  He could still feel the power of the magic that hid away inside.  It pulsed like a heartbeat as surely as his own, if he stopped to feel it through his being.

Though he was young for his kind, having just recently passed into his 180th year of life, Kaal could still remember when the city was more than alive.  Humans lived here, traveled from far and wide to be here, and to the town spilling across the foothills.  He'd before seen it once, and heard it once: the mountains also bounced the bellows and roars of his kind back and forth.  Dragons thought this place a sanctuary too, welcomed by sorcerers and mortals alike when a hundred strong migrated and nested in the recesses of the jutting rocks that littered the rest of the Valley of Stone.

But not since before the Sundering, when the magic of the world was injured, and the land itself rose up and banished the humans for their selfish wars, did he ever hear them again.

He had just been on another long search, only now returning to the place he reluctantly called home.  He'd been to three of the four corners of what was now called the Forbidden Land, several times over, and he'd seen too many fallen places, from grand cities to humble villages, all silent and dead.  No humans, no dragons.  Nothing to be felt but the steady—and wounded—energy of his world.

Perhaps it is time for me to face the truth, Kaal thought, heaving a long and weary breath, barely finding the strength to hold himself up, I may be the only one that lived.  The last dragon.  The last of the Arcane Children.  They have not come back here...they will never come back.

There was a part of him that still wanted to search.  There were still rocks he hadn't overturned and inches he hadn't inspected.  What else could he do?  Was there a purpose for him at all now, to salvage from the messes?  Was a lifetime of searching all that he was?

Or was he only to stay here, where one of the world's Great Wells let magic from another plane fall into this one, and be its protector?

The weariness of his trip began to overtake him, and he started to lie himself down upon the stone.  But before his eyes could close, a sliver of sunlight managed to break in the sky, and it caused him to spot a sudden glimmer.  Looking down, he found himself staring at the amulet that he'd kept wrapped around his right forelimb.  At the ends of the shimmering lines, a silver, humanoid winged creature clasped a deep red jewel—its visage that of a long-dead race relegated to myth—and for a moment it made him forget his dawning realizations.

But only for a moment.  They were too strong, speaking loudly of an eternally quiet, lonely fate, overriding his simple dragon instincts to distract themselves with shiny things.

He lifted his arm, the jewel bedazzling his sight, and he hummed while staring into its surface.  Lianna, my dearest friend...what would YOU have done in my stead?  Would you think of giving up, were you the last?

Thinking then of a long-gone friend made him think of the fourth corner of the Forbidden Land, the place he hadn't yet looked.

Far, far to the southwest, a flight over cold and heat and ocean, and days away, there was a mountain range that made a barrier between his land and the rest of the world: a world almost devoid of the rich magic energy that flowed otherwise here, and was dominated by humans.  It was almost impossible for them to pass through, and the land kept them exiled.

But that didn't mean that he could be kept in.

He hadn't heard much about, or from, that outside world in years; in fact, he'd hesitated to even try, for he knew how dangerous humans could be.  But he remembered that humans who had the knowledge and the ability to harness magic, the many disciplines of arcanists, would quite probably still exist.  Magic humans could by-and-large be trusted by dragons; they had been, anyway.

And if there were any magic humans—Priests of Light, Warlocks of Darkness, Druids of Nature, Magicians of the Mystic—could they be of any help to him in finding more of his kind?

There was a heavy doubt weighing on him, and the dragon turned his attention back out to the horizon that he could see atop the mighty battlement.  Snow-capped peaks hid in the shifting clouds, but he knew there was a path through them into the stark and silent beauty of the rest of the Forbidden Land.

He tried to stand again, and anxiety brewed in his stomach and burned his heart, and his mind was warring.  It was worse when he looked down and saw how the whim of Nature's spirits had grown; plants and shrubs were relentlessly taking back the world built by the hands of others.  The once-thriving town down the mountainside was now a jumble of oddly-placed rocks and green.

If he chose to stay, then he might as well have stayed lying on the battlement and waited to die, too.

But if he went...what would he find?  Was the smallest glimmer of hope possibly worth his very life?

Restlessly, he knocked another loose piece of stone over the ledge and listened to the harsh echoes.  His talons gouged lines in the dust, and his eyes squinted shut.  I must try.  I must.  There could be help out there; surely one of the great wizards that I have heard of still exists.  If it even means that I cross the mountains...

He glanced down at the amulet again, and the resolve in his eyes echoed the shine on its surface.  His warring voices went quiet.

So be it.  I cannot come back until I have an answer.  I cannot face this place again; the city, the Great Well...it will be safe here on its own.

As if he gained the strength to break a barrier, the invisible one that stayed his mind and his heart, Kaal forced himself to step on the crumbling ledges, crumbling more under his purposeful stride, and leaped straight downward.

Ever steadfast, the wind caught his wings, and he flapped to rise at full height and full speed to continue his last search.

His last chance.

Miss Windrain!  Get yourself up, you are late!

The old wizard’s harsh voice rang in Alexia’s ears; muffled, as it was somewhere downstairs, but still enough to jar her from her dreams with a cold jolt along her spine.

There was a groan in her throat as the late-morning sun shone through her window and warmly on her back.  As always, she didn’t even really want to wake up...it didn’t feel like this day would be any different, aside from the fact that she’d actually fallen asleep at her desk instead of the bed.

I must have been studying too late again, she thought with a frown.  Well...maybe Master Joran will be in a better mood if he knows that I’ve been dutiful.

Though I doubt it.

At least the sight of her room as she woke herself up made her feel safe; it felt like the only sanctuary in the world, considering that as far as she knew, the outside beyond the cottage and the wide forest country was crawling with the Bright Souls.

The dream that she’d been having felt more like a nightmare now that she remembered, seeing visions of the imposing men in red and white robes that were rumored to storm villages, taking people of magic blood to never be seen again.  Every so often she would hear news that they were growing in confidence and numbers, a fruitful crusade taken against those of arcane make, preaching of evils in the practice of sorcery...a slow and steady march against the magic world, with hidden assaults.

She didn’t know why this would continue to happen without much resistance from the kingdom at large—the master would never tell her—but the young woman at least was happy for the fact that they never found her.  Master Malyg Joran was too powerful for them to contend with.  That’s why her father left her in the safety of his care.  She’d only seen them once before...but it was enough to never want to cross them again.

She was ten then, and eight years had passed since.  His last letter came when she was thirteen...after that, Joran had believed that he had simply abandoned her.  Alexia, to her sadness, was starting to believe it herself.  Not a night had gone by where she wouldn’t stare into the darkness of her last waking hours and wonder why they had stopped coming...if her father had stopped writing...after the runaway life they’d lived together after her mother disappeared.  In the last letter, he’d promised that he’d have her with him when he returned.

Alexia had waited, and waited, and waited...now, she was living her life trying not to fear the worst.

For now though, every day was the same: doing chores for Master Joran, spending the day wandering the fields around the cottage, enduring the old man's jeering, complaints, and all-around bickering, studying in the evening, and eventually falling asleep.  Rarely, she'd get to take a horse carriage to the nearest town to buy a few new books, if Joran was in an amicable enough mood to let her go for a day (some part of him still believed her to be too childish to go anywhere herself).

But as always, a new day shouldn't have been one for dwelling on the past.  Let's just get today over with, then.

With a yawn, she took her time getting up and dressing.  She usually wore a loose green apprentice wizard's robe with a thin and comfortable set of trousers and undershirt, both simple and brown.  Whenever she had the chance, she had made cloth bracelets just like her father had shown her long ago and wore them for luck.  She slipped one with blue and white satin fabrics that wound around each other on her right wrist, brushed and bound her shoulder-length ashy-brown hair, and then finally grabbed one of her notebooks and started down the stairs.

The cottage was rather big for a simple country abode; but Master Joran had built and maintained it for many years.  For a wizard, building was never a problematic sort of task, so long as one knew their strength and extent of energy.  The house had a thatched roof and stone foundation, making up the strong walls of the outside.  There were three layers: upstairs rooms, ground level, and a spacious basement that Joran used for his work.  Alexia rarely saw the basement—she was usually allowed just between her quarters and any of the rooms on the ground level, which consisted of a tiny living area, kitchen, and one guest room; but never had she seen any guests since her own arrival, so that room was converted into her own study.  She was however expected to give it up, should guests ever come to stay.

Arriving at the bottom of the creaky wooden staircase, the girl listened for any sign of the old wizard hobbling about.  Master?  Good morning, she called out tentatively, her voice echoing only slightly in the still cottage interior.  Alexia had become a soft-spoken sort of girl as she grew up—in fact she hardly talked unless talked to—and never felt the need to yell.  Thankfully though, the cottage was only just big enough that she could be heard speaking at a normal volume, as long as Joran was on the same level of the building.

Judging by the fact that she wasn't answered, Alexia surmised that he was working in the basement.  She blinked curiously.  It was slightly unusual for him to keep at a task long into the morning (he woke at sunrise), but at least it gave her a rare opportunity to get some chores done without him breathing down her neck with offhand comments about how she worked.  She had wondered for a long time just how she managed to keep her patience about his criticism some days.

She made her own breakfast of buttered biscuits and a few pieces of cured ham, and went to the task of washing anything that needed to be washed, or swept up.  It had become so routine a task that she began humming to herself.  The sheltered girl knew very few songs, but they all stayed in her mind as the mysterious stories that they were.  Someday, she surmised, she would find more songs out there.  Soon, Alexia's task all but disappeared as her mind wandered and the time passed.

But in what seemed like too little time later, her crafted peace was shattered by a loud MISS WINDRAIN! bellowed from the staircase to the basement.

Alexia winced, trying to breathe as she stood straight and tried to meet eyes with Master Malyg Joran as he stomped into the room.  Each footfall of his boots caused little shivers down each nerve of her clenching fingertips, and the sensation of fear for some unknown deed only intensified by the clunk...clunk...clunk of his wooden staff on the floor between steps.  She wondered what could have happened; his greeting in the morning was usually amicable, though gruff, as if he were preoccupied.

The tall old man stopped in front of her with that condescending angry look in his withered face, the angles of which were obscured by a black-gray beard.  He was wearing the multi-hued robe of the Master Wizard, and usually wore it proudly.  Though as he was beginning to hunch over and limp with old age, the illusion of his skill was dispelled by the appearance of a ragged, bitter man in his late sixties.

Alexia gulped and tried to greet him as usual, nonetheless with a small quaver in her voice.  Master, good afternoon; what has—

Silence, you irresponsible whelp, the man interrupted with his rough voice, a slight accent from the region of Meande making whelp sound more like felp.  His free hand was waving about wildly as he spoke.  Can you not fathom the depths of your own negligence?  My potions, my potions...fah!

Alexia's brow furrowed in confusion.  What about your potions, Master Joran?  You have told me not to touch them many times, and I have not.

He rolled his dark brown eyes upward.  "You truly are one with a scattered mind...I told you to place them back in order on my shelves yesterday!"

But... she shook her head, arguing with further confusion in her eyes.  You said nothing of the sort...

The blood-ridden hells I did not! he spat.  "I had specifically told you to do that yesterday.  And it was not done when I went down there this morning.  I very nearly gathered the wrong elixir for my experiment...did you want this place to go up in flames?  Did you?"

Master, please! Alexia snapped back, nearly in tears now.  I tell you the truth!  You did not tell me to do any such thing as re-order them!  If anything you've told me again never to touch them!

The old wizard snarled, and his fingers clenched on his staff as if he had a fleeting thought of using it on her.  But seeing her face, so set in pleading and certainty, made him stop and consider his memories of the previous day.  Alexia could only watch his expression change ever so slightly, silent as she could try to be.

Finally, Joran took a deep breath and shook his head.  Perhaps I did not tell you, then.  He pointed one bony finger at her.  "But I will now.  Go organize the potions, and while you are at it, you will sweep up the whole basement for raising your voice to me.  I do not want you to leave until there is not a single speck of dust on that floor."

Alexia felt the heat rise in her face and anger pool in her stomach...but she had to hold it back.  The girl could only nod, her eyes set to the floor.  Yes, Master.

Very well, he sighed and turned his back.  "Do a fair job and I may let you go into the wilds today to harvest more ingredients.  Count everything and make a list while you are down there.  And do not tamper with anything.  There is no telling what those things could do to someone inept in magic."

The promise of being let out of the cottage later was incentive enough for Alexia to make sure she did a spotless job.  She bowed respectfully.  I shall go right away then, Master.

Get out of here, then, he dismissed and started toward the kitchen.  She could still hear him muttering under his breath.  Disrespectful child, and with no magic, living under a Wizard's roof...

Biting back a scathing response on her tongue, Alexia turned toward the stairwell and took the second set downwards and through the trap door.

Well, at least I get to see more of the basement, she thought to herself and tried with little success to quell the fire in her blood.

For anyone who has never seen the basement of an arcanist's home, it has more the feel of a secret dungeon workshop than a place of storage.  As soon as the heavy wooden trap door closed behind her, Alexia beheld a world much like the underbelly of a castle.

Silence draped every inch of the chamber in greater quantities than the dust caked on the brick walls.  It would have been pitch-black, but Joran had lanterns hanging from the four corners near the ceiling.  They didn't flicker like candles, but rather glowed steadily white and clear as if holding orbs of magic light within the little panes of glass (and she guessed that they were).  The room was illuminated in such a way by these lanterns that it looked more a studious place than a morose one, despite the various pungent smells—acids, essences of various flowers and weeds, samples from animals, and all sorts of medicines that would make even an experienced apothecary master gag—all overlaid with the moldy presence of dirt.

On the side nearest the stairs, there was a desk and a small library of tomes and scrolls, many that Alexia recognized as ones she had studied from.  Two other adjacent walls stored ingredients and posters of maps that marked places to find them, and other small notes on the wildlife and the plants; what was poisonous or aggressive, and how to deal with them.  The last wall had an enchanting table against it with various trinkets and a short sword that she knew Joran had been working on for some time.  The girl felt tempted to pick it up and examine the blade, but she had promised.  No tampering.  Even if she had put it back the way she found it, he would still know.  It was part of what made the wizard rather fearsome.

The potions were set in three stacked shelves in the middle of the room, and as she made her way over there, Alexia mused further on the crotchety old magician and what had made him change his personality so badly in the eight years she lived under his tutelage.

Malyg Joran was not always so disagreeable.  When she was introduced to him, it was her father's hope that the wizard protect her and teach her the ways of magic while he was out searching for information on the Bright Souls.  The Master was one of her own mother's tutors long ago, so he was more than happy to take Alexia under his wing should she start to inherit her affinity.  He was a strict but fair teacher and had been more encouraging when trying to impart the basics to her.

But sadly, Alexia had never developed magic skill of her own.  Even the most basic of spells never came at her call.  A few years passed, and after so much trying, he finally gave up on the idea of magic and instead stuck with tutoring and basic education.  He became less patient with her as time wore on, and it seemed like he felt that his time was wasted on the girl.  Joran often berated her father for burdening him with such a feeble student, worth naught more than a little house servant and scapegoat.

One of the greatest blows to her heart had been the day that he outright said that he wouldn't be surprised if Gareth Windrain had abandoned his own daughter...that he knew he would be disgraced by a child without the true Arcane talent of his wife, and just left her there.

Alexia never believed it.  She knew her father loved her...he would never have just thrown her away.  His foremost worry when they traveled and survived off of their meager supplies for four years was keeping her safe, and Master Joran's cottage had been on the edge of a territory too far away for the Bright Souls to bother with.  There was no better place to think of than the protection of a Master Wizard.  He wanted her out of the marauders' reach.

But if that is true...why did he stop sending letters?

Alexia froze while reaching to take another potion off the shelf, feeling the familiar sensation of pain in her heart: sadness at the very possibility, but guilt at believing in it, even for just a second.

Her hands clenched into fists, and she forced the tears away like she had to do so many times before.  No.  You must hold out hope.  He promised that he would be back, and with Mother.

If he does not come back...well, I will find him myself, once Joran passes.  He would never let me leave otherwise, though he hates me so.  I am chained here, with nowhere to go.  I can do nothing.

She took a deep breath, and though the ache remained, the threat of tears dwindled.  Letting go of her emotions would only make her look weak.  She would not show weakness to Master Joran, and prove his convictions right.

Her thoughts on the matter banished, she set to work on her tasks.  Each dusty glass bottle was carefully re-ordered by name, and the half-empty ones discarded in case of contamination.  Then, she checked the ingredient supply and made a list of which boxes needed filling; most of which, thankfully, she could get out in the field and in the forest not two miles from the cottage.  The rest were seasonal plants that grew in autumn, not spring, so she put those on a holding list.

Finally, as she was reaching for the cleaning supplies to finish the basement, there was a sudden clatter and the sound of something dashing and leaping.  Alexia whirled on her feet, instantly on edge, but relaxed at the sight of a silver tabby cat stretching and laying atop the potion shelf.

She chuckled.  Was that you, Fester?  You scared me.

Fester (his real name was Phaestus, but she had jokingly called him by Fester and had been surprised to see that he answered to it as well) was Master Joran's pet and—some would guess—familiar.  The cat had been two years old when she first met him, and was now slowly getting on in age, though it was hard to know by looking at him.  He was an old master of the hunt himself, keeping the cottage free of nosy rodents and insects, but was also as aloof and lazy as any cat.  It had taken her ages to earn his trust after she first pulled his tail as a child; she had since learned the respectful way to treat such an animal, and so he warmed up to her company again soon enough.

Phaestus was also a master of stealth.  Half the time, she never knew where he would jump out.  The girl didn't know if it was a cat skill, or a skill unique to a wizard's cat.  She assumed both, since she had closed the trap door when coming in.  Though perhaps, he was hiding with Joran all the morning.

If only the cat would tell.  The sparkle in his green eyes could only reveal endless amusement at the humans guessing at him.

Alexia smirked.  Did Master Joran send you to keep an eye on me again?  See that I am doing as asked?

The cat merely stared with that bored and condescending half-lidded look that all cats possess, idly flicking the end of his tail.  I suppose you are, Alexia surmised with a small laugh and reached up to scratch behind his ear.  He started purring with ecstasy, eyes closing slowly.

I do not mind if you are, anyway, said the girl once she returned her attention to the basement floor.  A cat is better company than most, despite what the rats say.

Mrr, Phaestus commented and idly groomed his paw while the human below him lost herself in the task once again.

It had to be late into the afternoon by the time she was finished.  Alexia trudged back up the stairway and pushed the trap door open, taking the lists she made with her.  Phaestus shot out from between her feet just as she was closing it again; she had called the cat, but he had initially refused to follow.  Her eyes rolled; she had forgotten that one never told a feline what had to be done.

She heard muttering from the living room, and quickened her pace as she turned into the kitchen.  Joran was hunched over the oven, and judging by the smell permeating the cottage, he was heating some ingredients that he'd brought up with him earlier.

Master, she stopped and bowed her head, I have finished with the potions and the basement floor.  Here is the list of things that we need.  I can gather them all right in the woods, if you need me to.

The old wizard paused and took the lists with a low hum, his voice still set in a thoughtful mutter as he read through them.  There was one thing about the old man that never seemed to change, and that was his way of losing himself diligently in his work.

Yes...oh, we are out of sage, ah...mm, the seasonal ones I can procure at the market tomorrow...  he gave a nod and handed the pieces of parchment back to her.  He spoke at a normal, even level, not looking her in the eye even once.  Very well then, Miss Windrain.  Go, and gather up each plant.  Extras of each, if you can.  Try to shoot some small game while you are out there as well; to make a stew pot tonight for dinner.  You are to return by dusk at the latest.

Her face broke out into a short smile, relief flowing through her nerves as well as anticipation for going outside.  Yes, Master, I will.  Thank you.

Hmph, he grunted as his only response.  The girl bowed again and started to turn, taking a few steps before pausing.  Her thoughts from earlier about the wizard's state of being had given her much to consider, and she turned her head back to him.

Master... she tentatively began, I...I feel the need to tell you that I do not mean to ever try your patience as badly as I believe I do.  I hope you do not think me ungrateful; you have been more than kind to keep me safe under this roof, and I will always be grateful to you, even if you blame my father—or me—for my lack of magic to offer.

The old man seemed as if to continue working, but paused after a moment and turned to glance at the child.  His weary eyes held a sort of tiredness in them that she had never seen.  It was hard to describe, but at least his hardened face had softened into something more thoughtful than before.

...I appreciate hearing so, Miss Windrain.  As well as know of your apologetic nature towards all of this, he assented, soft but still somewhat dismissive.  May you forgive an old man for taking his grousing out upon you from time to time; after all, it was not your choice to be left here.  Someday you may perhaps yet survive out in this dangerous world without help.  But for now, he sighed and flipped his hand, Go and finish your job, before I regret allowing it.

She took a breath and nodded, muttering a quiet Yes, Master, before turning for the door.

When Alexia stepped outside and let it close, she stomped her foot on the ground and let out her frustration through a loud growl.  What is with him?  Will it never be the same again?  Even one smile, ONE piece of approval, would suffice!

The girl opened her eyes again to the sky, and beheld the sunlit fields stretching beyond the cottage.  The mountains claimed the view of all horizons, and she could see the edge of the woods like an imposing barrier marking the foot of the hill.  Nature itself was all over, quiet and soothing in all senses.  Birds still chirped as they flew overhead and tried to survive another warm spring day.

She allowed herself a calming smile.  I have until sunset.  I'd better not waste it.

Alexia wandered around to the side of the cottage, where a small shed stood, and took down some of her travel gear.  She left the apprentice wizard's robe on a hook and traded it for a comfortable tunic in the same green hue and sturdy boots.  The bow on the stand looked valuable in its ornate gold-and-red frame, but it was worn with age and marred with use.  Still, it always proved a faithful weapon to keep for the modest archer that the girl was.  She tested the string, and then grabbed the quiver filled with as many arrows as it could carry.

Strapping it and the bow over her shoulder, Alexia finally grabbed her bag and set off with her eyes resting resolutely on the forest.

Thwip!

With a musical twang from the bowstring, the arrow struck true onto the center of the target that she made on the tree.  Alexia smiled and moved to collect it.  Glad to know that I have not lost my practice.

It had been a productive evening since she left sight of Joran's cottage.  She had easily found all of the ingredients at the edge of the woods, and game wasn't too hard to find either; the squirrels were all running about in the trees, fighting for rights to their homes and dashing from bough to bough.  All she needed was one to pause before it fell to her precise aim.

True, she still missed more than she hit, but it was all in the experience.  Alexia had hoped for more time to practice archery—more as a hobby than a true skill—and that day it had been granted.

The young student of magic was somewhat relieved that she hadn't needed to venture too far into the forest.  Those woods tended to be too dark and suffocating, and she hadn't done much hiking in her life since her father left her in Joran's care.  Still, she did like being near the trees, and being able to hear the faraway calls of animals deep in the mysterious shadows.  There was something mystical and enveloping about a forest, especially one near the home of a master of magic.  You were treading in a temple belonging to Nature herself, and was worthy of the utmost respect.  No hunter that went in without respect for that kind of power was to ever return again.

At least, that's what she liked to think.  As logical and educated as Alexia kept herself when studying, the outside world drew the mind of a dreamer to the surface, and she looked upon it with wonder and fascination...even with hope that she could someday see amazing things wandering through her sight.  Griffins and dragons, kirins and unicorns...or if not creatures of a magic nature, a proud and swift stag would do, or a cunning wolf, or a sneaky fox.  Creatures looked upon her with caution, but never feared or tried to scare her.  Respect Nature, and she respects you.

She had even spared silent thanks to the spirits of the woods for allowing her the chance to capture the squirrels and two wild turkeys.  Alexia, if she chose, would never kill a creature.  But meat was somewhat expensive in town (let alone the fact that going to the town was a trip of a day in itself), and the Master was too feeble to take to the hunt.  It was up to her to supply a fair amount of meat for food, and so she had to stay her bleeding heart, as he once put.

With a centering breath, Alexia drew another arrow and aimed for another target, a higher branch.  But as she did, something caught the corner of her sight.  Without moving, she glanced over to see something slowly striding at the edge of the field.

It was a deer; a doe, perhaps.  Small, young, and probably very fast at a run.  It paused and looked around, ears swiveling to catch even the slightest sound of potential danger.  Alexia dared not move.

Then, it turned its head and took a few tentative steps away with its back turned to her.  Its tail flicked idly; if it had seen her, it didn't seem to believe that she was a threat.

Thank goodness the wind is blowing my scent the other way, the girl thought as she let out the breath she held and very slowly lowered the bow, arrow still nocked.  Let me see if I can get it.  Master Joran will appreciate the extra store of venison.

She watched its movements carefully, freezing when its head turned back, and moving the bow into position again when it paid no mind.  The bow was centered, the arrow slowly drawn back.

The deer moved slowly, stopped, looked around, then ever-so-cautiously dipped its head down to the grass.

I must move around to the neck if I can, Alexia mused as she slowly side-stepped, arrow trained to its haunches.  One hunter only has one chance for a deer.

She made sure there were no twigs or loose soil in the way as her left heel stepped back into the grass.

But then, Alexia felt it.  The root that had anchored her other foot and caused her to stumble slightly as she tried to lift it.  She groaned and regained her balance with a bouncing gait.

The noise spooked the deer into an immediate run, its tail flashing white as it leaped easily back into the safe darkness of the forest.

Alexia watched it go, her face set in a frustrated grimace.  Damn it.  Well, doe, you have survived another day.  I hope you can savor it.

She had been clenching the bow so tightly in all of that tense focusing that her knuckles were white and her fingers sore.  Alexia decided to use that angry energy and aimed again at the tree.  This time, she wasn't trying for precision—she wanted to see how hard she could embed the arrow.

The string was pulled back so taut that it quivered.  Her fingers ached while holding the fletching in place and aiming for the tree's dead center.  The pain didn't weaken her; in fact, it only hardened her concentration.

Twang!

Another harmonic note was forced out of the string as the arrow was released.  She watched as the arrowhead rocketed into the tree...

...And made a blinding white flash upon impact.

BOOM!

Alexia gasped with surprise and stumbled back as the tree's limbs and leaves all burst with currents of electricity, bouncing along every bit of its surface and breaking off several smaller, flaming branches in the process.

The tree settled in a few minutes, but a stunned Alexia didn't even think about trying to go and pluck the arrow out.  She lay on the dirt motionless, gaping with her eyes wide.

...What just happened?  Did I do that?

But I couldn't have!  I have no magic!  And the Master has never said anything about the bow being enchanted...

The evidence before her still spoke in clearer volumes than her thoughts.  The tree was burned, a large black circle on its trunk marking the arrow's strike and flaming branches still littering its roots.  She sat up, silent and breathing, but her mind was racing as her eyes set on the all-too-real destruction.  The scent of burning wood and smoke overcame the clear air around her.

...Then it is true.  I have...I have used magic!  Lightning magic...after all this time!  But how?  Could it be that I have let my emotions unlock it?  The Master did say that emotional focus was half of what magic was all about...

But still...how?  HOW?

Alexia's grip tightened on her bow.  She wanted...needed to make sure that it was true.  Master Joran would be so amazed, and perhaps proud of her.  Finally.  Finally there was a chance that she had inherited some magic skill from her mother.  Perhaps it had come a bit late, but the chance was there.

With a new focus dominating her mind, the girl stood on shaky, adrenaline-saturated limbs and faced another lone tree, making sure to repeat what she had done and felt.

And when that tree proceeded to flare up in a ball of white light, crackling peals of electricity and flames consuming it, an elated Alexia beamed and resolved to practice this newly-found skill until sunset.

I am coming home with more than these little plants and creatures to show.

Chapter 2

With the setting sun at her back, Alexia rushed back to the cottage with all of the game that she had caught in tow.  She was winded, but laughed her way through the fatigue of running.

She was imagining the scene that was sure to come.  The Master's eyes would light up at the news of her magic talent, and his rough shell would break.  Perhaps he would even apologize for his crass behavior over the years, and start to train her in the art of the Arcane.  When next she would see her parents, they would be free, and together again.  Perhaps she could help them in the fight against the rising threat of the Bright Souls.  Her father would be so proud, and her mother more so.

I've never felt so excited about anything in my life, the girl thought as the wizard's large home loomed into sight.  Or if I have, I cannot even remember.  But I shall remember this day for all time.

As she stopped to catch her breath and set her eyes on the stoop, a fleeting fear shot through her thoughts.  Perhaps it would not work now that I am here, and tired.  Perhaps I will just make a fool of myself, and he will deem me unfit to ever leave the cottage again.  Except perhaps for hunting trips on which he will accompany me.

...No.  I must have hope.  I have practiced out there all evening...it HAS to work.

Finding the excited energy to steel her resolve, Alexia took a deep breath and stepped inside the door with a wide smile, throwing it open so that it hit the wall.

Master Joran!  Master, you will never believe what's happened! Alexia shouted into the cottage.  Where are you?  Master!

Cease your shouting! his grating, loud voice came from the back of the living room in reply.  She heard him shuffling up from his seat and tramping to the entrance.  I am not deaf, Miss Windrain.  What has you bursting in through the door like a crazed bull?

Despite