The One

The fated one

Nasr's coughing did not stop. As Feray held him—an action that was becoming hauntingly familiar—Izar went to him and placed a hand on his back, then frowned.

"I can't do anything about this," Izar said, "It has to be you."

"Why?" she asked.

"She injected standard magic into his system—not just to attack, but to stay. I assume he hasn't used standard magic in... a long time, even before the grand battle. At this point, he has only dark magic in him, and standard magic of this kind is like poison."

"Then...?"

"You use both. You can neutralize it."

Cool. Just another thing I've never done before. She glanced at Nasr, who gave her a look that explained it all: trust in yourself, as I do. After that, Feray took a deep breath and put her hand on his back—the same spot Izar's had been a moment ago. She let dark magic flow into him, closing her eyes for better concentration. It was her first attempt, but she now understood how it was to heal—find the source and replace it with healing magic. In her case, it was dark magic. However, Odessa's magic seemed smarter than most, and it avoided her. This game of catch continued for a few minutes before Feray fully neutralized Odessa's. She could only assume, of course, that ordinary wounds didn't run away.

"Nasr?" she voiced when she opened her eyes again.

He nodded but said nothing.

"Nasr," she said, adopting an accusatory tone in spite of herself, "You said that was the closest you'd ever come to death!"

"I did not promise that I would not be injured," he replied with a dim smile.

"Even so, don't treat your body like that," Izar said, grinning from a chair as he leaned toward the other two. "It took you some thousand years to learn love, so you should know that there are people who get sad if you're hurt now, grandpa."

"...you too?" Nasr voiced. "I do not see you being as casual with my sister."

"That's because she actually acts old," Izar said.

"..."

Feray burst into laughter.

"What?" Izar arched an eyebrow.

"I said the exact same thing when I first met him!"

"She will not return," Nasr announced, "But all that needs to be done has been done. Time will handle the rest. For now, I shall retire."

"Where to?" Izar asked.

"My animorbis, naturally. I have nowhere to go—besides, I have yet to see what it looks like, as I presume it is not the same as it used to be."

"I want to see too," Feray said, already standing before him.

"I...do you trust me that much? I myself do not know what lies ahead."

"Can I go as well?" Izar asked. He didn't move from his seat, but his smile suggested that he knew he would not be rejected.

"Yes, of course."

Just a year ago, Nasr would not have imagined that he would now have not just one, but two people voluntarily entering his animorbis. He must really have changed.

Upon arrival, he found himself dumbfounded at the sight. They were standing on solid ground, a calm night sky over their heads. They stood on a path, either side of which was planted with roses. At a closer look, the roses had thorns—but that was only to be expected. Beauty without thorns did not stay long. Further ahead, the path led to a mansion of three stories. The structure was much more modern than Nasr ever thought possible for his animorbis. He opened the door. Inside, there were numerous rooms, and even more luxurious furniture in those rooms. Aside from that, the mansion was devoid of any signs of life or activity.

Empty chairs and empty tables, presentable without an audience. It is just like me indeed, he thought. The fanciness of the mansion, in fact, highlighted its hollowness in equal measure.

"It looks sad still," Feray noted behind him. Her gaze was on the outskirts of the area—beyond the mansion and the path and roses were fences surrounding the place; and beyond those fences were insurmountable vines stretching far into the distance, surrounding the whole area. Those vines were boundless and equipped with thorns of their own, much sharper and longer than those of the roses.

"This island is in a better condition than Odessa's island," Izar said. "At least it has roses."

"What does hers look like?" Nasr asked.

"An island trapped by an endless ocean, and an ice castle on top of flames. Nothing more."

The dark sorcerer sighed softly. "Feray," he said, "I am certain that every other animorbis looks morbid in comparison to yours; but if you have seen what it used to look like here, you would not be appalled by its current state."

Saying so, he created a portal next to himself, and entered first.

"Wait, you're going too?" Feray asked, a little worried. "That's your..."

"My past that I must own. Worry not."

It was his smile that convinced her.

There was no land, no sky, no life. There was nothing in Nasr's old animorbis save for dark smoke-like substance all around. It was as if...

"This! This is the world before the world was created!" Feray exclaimed. "It's...empty." Her voice dropped to a melancholic low as she stared at the swirling black haze.

Meanwhile, Izar dropped to his knees. He reached out to where the ground should be, and with his light skin as contrast, the smoke-like substance that hovered over his hand became apparent. "This is your power, isn't it?" he asked.

"Indeed," Nasr answered. "It was all I had...please do not look at me that way, my apprentice. This was thousands of years ago," he added with a smile.

Bentley:

It's all good now. Nasr almost died a few times, Izar almost died once or twice, and I almost died that one time we crash-landed in your room, but it's all good now. Odessa isn't quite ready to make up with her brother yet, but I don't think she hates him. She just looks...really confused every time she sees him hanging out with us. It's only a matter of time before she accepts him as he is now.

Ironic, isn't it, that the "first dark sorcerer" would be kinder than almost anyone in Refica—Refica, a world known for individualistic, cold people. Remember that time I told you about the hostage incident? Yeah, that was horrifying. The witches there could overcome that sorcerer easily if they tried, and if even I knew it, surely everyone else knew. But nobody did anything.

Waylon and Zanna have apparently been together for a while now, but I was too busy to notice. He never wants to talk about it when I'm around, and she's very open about everything, as always. Every weekend, Zanna brings a box of brioches so that Waylon doesn't cook...well, sometimes I offer to cook, to save us the trouble of eating the same thing all day long.

And all of this began when Izar appeared out of seemingly nowhere when my brother and I were going out for herbs. How wonderful, the hands of fate...

Best,

Feray.

~ fin ~