“Have I already been here before?” Ba-Khet-Sah asked itself. It must have been searching for something interesting for hours— it all looked the same; dark but barely luminescent brick tunnels, separated by a noxious river of waste fluids. The occasional bridges let Ba-Khet-Sah cross to new parts, and guards here and there asked questions that it didn’t have answers to. It began questioning if it really needed to follow the king’s orders, as it really didn’t care about returning to its “friends”. Ba-Khet-Sah could leave the city without anyone noticing, right?

  “Rebar? Rebar?” Ba-Khet-Sah called out over and over again. However, this time someone called back.

  “Rebar? Rebar?” A Tiris sitting beside the wall mimicked Ba-Khet-Sah in the darkness. This caused the incomplete being to jump so much it nearly fell into the waste stream.

  “Are you Rebar?” Ba-Khet-Sah asked. It couldn’t see the creature, most likely a combination of the dimly-lit sewers and its blurry vision.

  “No, I am…” He thought for a moment, looking around. “Concrete.”

  “Where is Rebar?”

  “Concrete has rebar,” He lifted up a piece of actual rebar, offering it to Ba-Khet-Sah. “A good killing tool.”

  “Listen, Concrete, have you seen a rat with rebar in its eye?”

  “Ah, you must mean the Holy One?” Concrete started squeaking at the mention.

  “What?”

  “Concrete senses your emptiness. You are worthy, empty one. If you want to meet the Holy One, go down.” He got up, revealing a wooden trapdoor that he was sitting on with light shining through the gaps in the rows of wood.

  Ba-Khet-Sah opened the trapdoor, timid of the ladder underneath. It muttered the clear truth, “I hate ladders.”

  For a third time, it slipped while using a ladder. It fell for a good five seconds, landing on its back. The pain was unimaginably muted. It got up automatically and saw it had fallen in a large lit chamber, packed with thousands of Tiris. There were numerous tents scattered about, all made of scrap, but it was oddly organized. In the distance, there was a Tiris with rebar in its eye on a concrete-elevated platform.

  “Rebar!” Ba-Khet-Sah accidentally yelled out. Every Tiris that it could see turned to look at it. “Oh hey guys.”

  “What’s this pale-purple fella doing here?” asked one Tiris. Ba-Khet-Sah sprinted towards Rebar where he stood, preaching. Ba-Khet-Sah did not metabolize like most humans, the only thing giving it the required energy to move was seemingly hopes and dreams.

  “From what the Holy One has witnessed,” Rebar shifted his paw towards himself, then out to the crowd. “Aurelia despises us. They want to see us destroyed. They can’t even settle their own issues, so they doom us instead. The Holy One can spare us from a shared, forsaken death.”

  Rebar spotted Ba-Khet-Sah in the distance who was sprinting towards him, and stepped off the platform on all fours.

  “Oh, Decaying One, am I happy to see you.”

  “My name is Ba-Khet-Sah,” It struggled to put its thoughts into words. “Why are you so…?”

  “Different?” Rebar finished its sentence for it. “You see, after the Holy One went to the surface, the Holy One experienced what no Tiris has ever-- I am enlightened now, and I will free the Tiris from oppression.”

  “That sounds like a fun plan,” Ba-Khet-Sah asked. “What can I do?”

  “First of all, the Holy One thanks you for inviting him to your party; without your welcoming, the Holy One would have never been enlightened. Every Tiris knows the plan, now we must perfect our execution.”

  “Re- I mean, The Holy One?” Ba-Khet-Sah requested, realizing disrespecting the messiah of the Tiris wouldn’t end well. The chance that Rebar could answer its question was low, but religious figures always had answers. As Ba-Khet-Sah spoke, Rebar started walking away. “Why are my fingers tingly?”

  Rebar turned around, raising its eyebrow. “Say that again.”

  “My fingers are tingly. My head goes dizzy. I feel like there’s something natural within me that needs to be explored, refined.” Ba-Khet-Sah described with such specifics that it could be mistaken for an intelligent being.

  “My, that’s… interesting. These are common symptoms of attaining a magical core, allegedly. It’s only a Tiris legend, we’re all innately born with magic, you see.” Rebar stood, rubbing his chin in fascination.

  “Am I magical now? Can you teach me?” Ba-Khet-Sah got excited over the potential it was harboring.

  “Yes, you will be a useful asset to the Tiris people in these coming hours,” Rebar paused to think. “You don’t seem to get hurt much do you? Well, neither do I. We both are blessed, or cursed, with near immunity. We’re immortal soldiers.”

  “Wow,” Ba-Khet-Sah had stars in its eyes. “I’m immortal?”

  Rebar slapped its face. “I suppose everyone is ready but you, so I can train you myself. I’m quite the teacher.”

  They went to a place in the sanctum where dozens of Tiris were fighting dummies and targets with magic spewing from their hands and some equipped with staffs. Rebar found an unused target in a supply tent, pulling it out and positioning it upright for Ba-Khet-Sah.

  “Magic is simple; it comes from the world around us, and it’s channelled by your soul. Mana exists in the air, in the water, and inside the planet itself. You must tap into it.” Rebar explained.

  “How do I do that?” Ba-Khet-Sah asked.

  “A staff or wand will tap into the mana waves for you, they are fine tuned for this purpose anyway.” Rebar took the piece of rebar in his eye socket and attempted to pull it. It took some wiggling and sloshing around, but eventually it slid right out. He handed it to Ba-Khet-Sah, who was unfazed at the sight. “This is one of the most fine-tuned conduits. After the battle with Felix Fantasio, it, being temporarily one with my soul, tapped into the mana waves as I casted my spell. Conduits, or tools used to channel intentions, that are forged from soul dancing, are unique in their abilities.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “How do I use it?”

  “Focus on something you want to do by tapping into the mana waves. It could be a fireball, moving an object, or subjugating another’s mind. Remember, there are no limits on spells, only the spellcaster’s ability. You can use an incantation to truly focus on what you want to do. Advanced casters do not need to do this, but it seems almost every beginner requires it.” Rebar described.

  “Fire!” Ba-Khet-Sah chanted. Nothing came out from the rebar. “Fire! FIRE!”

  Still, not even a spark. Rebar searched for a solution, and after a while, asked, “What is significant about your life?”

  “I don’t know,” Ba-Khet-Sah pondered. “I woke up four- no five days ago, and I don’t know what happened before.”

  “Interesting… say, what makes you angry?”

  Ba-Khet-Sah thought back to moments of great frustration. This was a rare time when it could think straight; Rebar had an illuminating quality in him. “When I fail. When I’m trying to do something and it doesn’t work.”

  “That kind of works in this situation. Think about the fire you are trying to cast. What failed things do you want to see burning in it?” Rebar had asked an excellent question.

  “Ladders and stairs, they are monstrous devices designed to torture me specifically.”

  “Okay, visualize… a wooden ladder laid upon the target. Then, ignite it.”

  “Fire!” Ba-Khet-Sah yelled out. This time, sparks danced around the target, which caused it to catch fire.

  “Perfect, Ba-Khet-Sah, just phenomenal,” Rebar exclaimed. Ba-Khet-Sah smiled, feeling proud for the first time ever. Perhaps Rebar was a friend that it couldn’t leave behind. “Alright, I’ll leave you to practice. The Fated Army is calling the Holy One. Oh, and, meet me before the resurgence begins, I want the Holy One and you to be together.”

  So, Ba-Khet-Sah tried new spells, developing new strategies and conquering mana.

  * * *

  Ficus, Aylenne, and the King stood on a wooden platform. Ficus wore his green tuxedo with black pants, and oddly still had his snow boots on. Aylenne wore a traditional red alcion dress that was seemingly brand new.

  “Welcome all to the Daycah Tree Migration Festival, where we celebrate the coming warmth of spring by the monumental Daycah Tree Migration. For those unaware, this is an annual event that always takes place a month before the first day of spring, at sundown.” The King of Aurelia spoke to a gigantic crowd through a wand projecting his words, the people of Aurelia and more standing outside the city on a grassy field. However, the grass did not enjoy being stood on, but there was no other option but to wait and endure the pain. “As you can see, it is not sundown yet, so I will make some important announcements regarding recent events. I’m sure everyone knows what took place today; but I’m not so sure you know who to thank for protecting our city. May I present to you, Ficus Witherwood and Princess Aylenne!”

  The crowd roared. Their very own princess was a hero. Some of the people in the crowd knew Ficus, but not for the right reasons. There was a group of people holding up a horizontal banner, displaying the words, “We have your tree, Ficus” in a secret dryadic language. Ficus nearly choked and died right there on the wooden platform.

  “First, can we give a hand for Ficus Witherwood?” The king begged the crowd, with a moderate response of claps. “This dryad played a crucial role in saving my throne and stopping Felix. He was fearless in the face of death. Do you have any words for the people Mr. Witherwood?”

  The king offered Ficus the mini-staff, but he was too stunned to speak.

  “The most important person in stopping my corrupt advisor would be none other than my daughter, Princess Aylenne!” The crowd went frantic at the mention of their favorite royal.

  “She, with the assistance of Ficus, killed Felix. She was incredibly brave and clever, using a firearm to save our city. It was noble, like nobles are, to get directly involved in all of your welfare. She didn’t stand around and wait for her demise like many would. And that’s why I’m proud to call her the Princess of Aurelia!”

  Suddenly, a deep rumble was heard in the distance. “Those must be the trees on their way, folks. Prepare for a show!” The king announced. Everyone waited in anticipation of the Daycah trees returning from their journey south. “We should be seeing at least a dust cloud by now…”

  But there was no dust, and the rumble got louder. It overpowered all the wand’s volume capabilities, rendering speech useless. The horrific screams of the Aurelian people that rang out were miniscule when compared to the rupturing of the ground. The dirt and mud underneath the crowd had broken into large chunks, being launched into the air in a rocky hurricane. People ran, fell in, stood and watched, panicked, and took the hands of their loved one. Two figures were seen rising from the underground higher than any others; Ba-Khet-Sah and Rebar who were being hurdled via Rebar’s staff. Rebar was holding his staff that had blasted the ground to form the colossal crater that thousands of Tiris were exiting from. They had reached the zenith of their arc and were now falling to the ground. They landed near the platform where the king stood horrified at the Tiris unleashed upon the city.

  “You horrible rat! What is going on?!” The king screamed at Rebar.

  “The Tiris are going to move into the city, live with you guys and all-- wait what are they doing?” Rebar asked as his Tiris army swarmed into the city and started setting it on fire. They entered via the south entrance, where archers and guards were greatly outnumbered. The Tiris casualties were climbing, but seemingly endless reinforcements were still climbing out of the cylindrical crater.

  “Guards! Assemble the army! Stop them from destroying our city! Arrest that ratman!” The king commanded. The guards ran off, shouting orders to each other. Rebar did not resist arrest. “Ba-Khet, what in the devil is going on?”

  “What did you tell them to do?” Aylenne asked frantically. “What’s going on?”

  “Aylenne, I don’t feel so--” Ficus’s head was cut cleanly off, where his neck met the shoulders, which fell robotically to the floor. Presumably, someone with connections to the tattooed man cut his tree down after learning about his failure to deal with Aylenne before sundown, through the instant communication of mana networks.

  “Ficus, no!” Aylenne cried. “I’ll get someone to cast a spell! It’ll heal you right up!”

  As the inferno rose into Aurelia, Aylenne was distracted by the severed head of Ficus, which, strangely, could still speak, “A-Aylenne, please, you would have to heal my tree.”

  “I’ll find your tree, just hang on! You need to be alive for your family… Ficus, please!” Aurelia shouted through tears.

  “No… my family-- they don’t exist. Not anymore. B-Because of my carelessness for their lives, for my true duty… to help Au-” Ficus choked on his tongue.

  “Aurelia?” Aylenne interjected, tears streaming down her face. “You sure did help Aurelia. A lot.”

  “No, not Aurelia-- Augustine,” Ficus managed to say. Ba-Khet-Sah looked in amazement at the complexity that it could not grapple. “When my youngest was born, I was told that I w-was to fulfill the eighth great prophecy, that an unkillable man named Augustine, who did not know his own name, would cross the Thuapa Mountains, that it was my destiny to h-help him. S-So I searched, wasting my years as a guild ‘negotiator’, just to find him-- the decaying man. I’ve made deals, bad deals, that ended up hurting my f-family. The p-pro-ph-phecy is all I have left. M-My t-tree’s s-sap i-is d-draining…”

  Ba-Khet-Sah kneeled at the severed head. It cried, for the very first time, something that it had never felt before. Even the moralless, stupid, bumbling body could understand the gravity of the situation. Ficus, whose green head was turning lime, had more important things to say but too little time to say it. Rebar chewed on his staff; any so-called “enlightenment” had ended the moment any prophecy about him was fulfilled. The goddess of chaos had done her work.

  “Rebar isn’t the Tiris messiah anymore,” Rebar said, shaking his head. “Rebar forgets, why is the city burning?”

  No one seemed to care about Rebar anymore, the attention was split between the city and on Ficus, whose last words were: “Augustine… find the Ren.”