When His Magick Exploded ✓

33: Send those enemies flying!

Cypur stood on a boulder looking over a forest without a canopy. It was Naked Wood Forest, or so his mental map told him. It took him two days to get here and during that time he learned a new thing about himself. He could be sneaky and tricky. Did he really steal bread? Again? A third time?

He looked down at the paper bag and smelled the sweet scent rising up through, reminding him of this early morning's heist. Cypur could hardly comprehend he didn't do it once, but three times and then he took more for his last day near civilization. He already ate the ones for breakfast and had enough for lunch and desert.

This is going to be our little secret Faud.

Yeah, his Faud said. Good heist though.

"I don't want to be a criminal, but I already am and," he trailed off his mumbling and sighed, wondering if he should have hurried up to get this far instead of relaxing.

In the bigger towns, Cypur saw screens through house windows showing the faces of his parents spewing quite believable lies even in the face of that policewoman. That they saw him, but he went to Rauvuren Trude to find the Rauvuren. His father went as far as saying that Cypur was in aesthetic rivalry with Rachelle over the Rauvuren. Could he have gone to the vin Miluandés' house?

The policewoman smiled and thanked them for handing over their dangerous adopted son. Cypur took that as she was trying to hide his real roots to have his magick for herself. But whatever her plans were, they were away from him. He slowed his pace, deciding not to rush when his stomach began to grumble but alas, he had no money. Breakfast and lunch were not two meals he thought he would ever dread.

I stole bread for breakfast. Art of deception. Where did I learn that? And then for lunch, same deal, different bakery.

And then today, early in the morning, he saw another bakery. Even after promising himself he wouldn't do it again, he succumbed and made his Faud dance steppenchellia on the counter while he stole away bread again. Even took a paper bag to put everything in. Sweet breads never tasted sweeter after such a victory.

"Faud, victory desert. The last of this morning's," Cypur broke a sugary pastry in half, handing it to his Faud who sat on its bottom with its legs out, "so enjoy it while it lasts."

"Thank you," the Faud squeaked. Cypur smiled as it chomped on the pastry, eating it up in no time. He ate his own slowly, staring out at the black sticks with bare branches jutting out the sides. The orange sun had dipped since he left civilization behind.

"I never knew I'd be such good thief." He shielded his eyes from the sun. It sprayed orange rays across the barren land, turning it scarlet. Orkorvia Town was dotted with small groups of wooden or stone dwellings. Beyond, after a haze of yellow sand, towering rock formations pointed to the sky like spikes and further, the edge of the Ring.

"You always say you're exceptional," the Faud said with a burp.

Cypur finished his pastry half and licked his fingers. "I didn't expect to be good at being illegal."

"You've always been good at that," the Faud winked, "with Arius."

Over the course of these two days, the Faud was also coming out of its shell, talking out loud more than communicating through the mind. It was as mischievous as Cypur supposed he was although he would rather not think he was anything like his Faud.

"How much about me do you know? As much as I do?" Cypur glanced down at the Faud who was sitting like a person. "What are you anyway? A part of me or am I actually a part of you?"

That's scary. He grimaced and shoved the thought away. The Faud didn't respond which was just as well. Cypur didn't want to begin going down that rabbit hole and maybe find himself suffering from identity crisis. He'd already had enough of that.