> Nehsem

>

> Noun

>

> Translation: Life Force

>

> Definition: The act of exchanging one's life force for magical power. This term is particularly linked to necromancy, and later to alchemy, it denotes the perilous practice of humans using a portion of their lifespan to wield magical abilities. It is seen as a dangerous and feared form of magic, indicative of human desperation and ambition, where the balance of life and death is manipulated for accessing supernatural powers.

He was slight, no more than a wisp of a boy, clad in a robe of the finest silken blue that whispered of the dragon's deep azure scales. His eyes were like pools of molten gold, betraying his true nature, while his hair was pale blue, dishevelled and short.

"My brothers call me Levi."

"I'm the Noctavia."

"I didn't hear you the first time, but I heard you the second. No need for a third—I can hear well enough," he chided gently, a glimmer of mischief in those golden depths.

"You are… very young..."

Levi shrugged. "That's why I prefer the waters. The merfolk don't ask so many questions."

"I apologize if I've caused any offence," Noctavia said hurriedly.

"You haven't," he answered, "You're just saying what others believe. Leviathan is clueless, just a kid. He's... not quite dragon enough."

"You see that human? Xendrix is just like you."

"I may be a kid, but I'm no human to be compared with! How rude!" Levi retorted, his dragon pride wounded by the analogy. "What is it that you want me for?"

Noctavia, with a light chuckle, sat down, legs crossed. "What I mean is, Xendrix is still learning his path, unsure of his actions. And I'm here to guide him alongside you if you're willing. Please? Pretty please?"

"I don't understand this alchemy you speak of," the young dragon stated, mirroring her posture. In that brief, motionless moment, Levi seemed beyond his years.

Noctavia took out an iron cup from her backpack, etched with indecipherable gibberish runes and adorned with pretty patterns and colourful beans. "He needs to infuse this cup with water."

"Just tell him to fill it at the river," Levi suggested.

"Yes, but humans don't perceive magic as something simple. They need to believe it's achieved through effort, through struggle... they need to feel as though they've moved mountains."

"How do you propose I assist, then?"

"Could you pretend to be guarding the cup, allowing him to triumphantly claim it? It worked with the earth element."

"That strategy aligns with earth, for earth nurtures and protects. But water... it's inherently peaceful," Levi pondered, "Is like a mummy..."

"I'm open to your ideas."

Levi glanced sceptically at Xendrix. "Why do you aid this human? I don't readily trust them. He smells funny... like cabbage."

"If he masters magic, he can enlighten others. Humans won't feel overshadowed or threatened by Menschen, fae, or others."

"And here I thought I was the kid here," Levi mused.

Noctavia drew a deep breath, her gaze sweeping across the still landscape. "Without your help, I'm left with no choice but to seek guidance from the two-headed fish, and that's..."

She was abruptly cut off by Levi's vehement response. "Absolutely not! I once tried speaking with that creature, and trust me, it was a mistake I deeply regret." Levi glanced at Xendrix, who stood motionless, like a barren tree devoid of life.

“Do you trust him?” questioned the dragon.

“I try.”

"So, he must believe he has bested me?" Levi asked.

"Exactly."

"But I must refrain from violence; it would distort the true nature of the water element. And honestly, I don't see how this will aid your alchemical pursuits." Levi took the cup from her hands, examining it thoughtfully. "Alright, I have an idea. Let's see if this Xendrix has a heart as big as his belly!"

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Levi, with a flair for the dramatic, sauntered away from Noctavia and perilously positioned himself beside the cliff's edge.

As Levi withdrew from Noctavia's side, a transformation overtook him, a spectacle of nature's grandeur unfolding in a matter of moments. His body elongated, and bones and muscles were shifting and growing with a fluid grace that belied the profound metamorphosis occurring. Scales, iridescent and usually shimmering like a tapestry of gemstones under the sun, now appeared dulled and lacklustre. The vibrant blues and greens that he has shown were replaced across his hide like light through stained glass were subdued, giving him an appearance of vulnerability and weariness.

His wings lay listlessly at his sides. The webbing between each powerful bone looked fragile, almost as if the life within them had been drained away. His yellow eyes were now half-closed, glazed with an artful imitation of suffering.

In a stroke of theatrical genius, Levi extended his tongue, letting it hang limply from the side of his gaping maw. It was a pitiable sight, like a dog overcome by the relentless assault of heat and thirst.

This performance by Levi was nothing short of a masterclass in deception. It painted a picture of a once-mighty dragon succumbing to dryness; it was noticeable on his scales, his listless posture, and his panting tongue.

Noctavia chuckled, playing her part in the ruse. She opened her bag, took the water bottle and emptied it onto the ground, ensuring no drop remained. She then discreetly stowed the bottle back in her backpack and stood beside Xendrix. With a subtle gesture, she signalled the resumption of time, and the wind roared back to life.

"I don't see anything!" Xendrix yelled, picking up where their previous conversation had left off. His words trailed off as he caught sight of the colossal, serpent-like creature sprawled on the ground. "Is that... is that a dragon?" he asked, turning to Noctavia with wide eyes.

"Poor creature, it appears to be on the brink of death!"

Treading cautiously, Xendrix approached the dragon. He tentatively placed a hand on its scale, feeling the faint rise and fall of its breath. "It's still alive."

"What should we do?" Noctavia asked.

Xendrix paced around the dragon, deep in thought, but didn’t speak a word of what he was thinking. Finally, he turned to Noctavia. "Pass me our water bottle!" he demanded.

Noctavia obediently searched in the bottle and passed it to Xendrix.

"It's empty!"

Noctavia didn't reply; she just shrugged her shoulders and watched Xendrix's every move.

Confronted with the empty water bottle, Xendrix's frustration simmered. The urgency of the situation was not lost on him, and Noctavia's silent, observant stance only added to the pressure mounting within him. His eyes darted between the barren bottle and the cup lying beside the dragon. It was a pivotal moment, one that Noctavia had anticipated.

She could feel Xendrix's mind racing, his gaze sweeping over the desolate landscape. Returning to the river to fetch water was impractical; it would take precious hours, a time that logically the dragon did not have. He needed to summon water, much like he had conjured earth before. Still, the glaring absence of water in their immediate vicinity posed a significant challenge. Unlike with the Treant, where the earth was abundant, here he was surrounded by nothing but dry land and air.

"Water is everywhere." Xendrix pondered aloud.

The human body itself was made predominantly of water. Could he, then, draw water from within himself to fill the cup? The idea was radical and untested, but Noctavia could see a sparked flicker of hope in him. However, this could touch the line of magical perversion. It worried her.

How could Xendrix harness his own body's water? This was uncharted territory, a foray into a form of magic that was both intimate and daunting. Noctavia could understand the concept in the Prince’s words, but the practical application was a mystery.

The only solution she thought possible was that if he could command the elements outside himself, why not harness the elements within? What could she do? Stop him?

Standing over the empty cup, Xendrix clenched his fist tightly. He silently willed the water within him to obey his command, to leave his body and fill the cup, asserting his dominion over his own being as he sought to prove himself master of all.

The magic that unfolded was subtle, lacking the grandiose displays often associated with sorcery. There were no incantations, no dramatic gestures – just a boy, his clenched fist, and an empty cup. Slowly, droplets of water began to seep from his hand, gradually forming a slender stream that cascaded into the cup. Drop by drop, the cup was being filled.

Noctavia watched in awe and deep horror. The magic Xendrix had just performed was unlike anything she had witnessed—it was raw and unsettling in its implications. She was stunned into silence, her mind grappling with the ramifications of such a power that she didn’t dare say the name.

With the cup now filled, Xendrix approached the dragon and gently poured the water onto its tongue. The dragon stirred, a sign that the magic had taken effect. But then, unexpectedly, Leviathan took to the skies, diving into the depths of the Meerio and vanishing into the embrace of the Red Sea. Noctavia was left with unanswered questions, the most pressing of which was why Leviathan, known for his kindness, had fled so abruptly. What did the dragon drink?

The mystery deepened as Noctavia found herself pondering the dragon's last enigmatic utterance: "He smells like cabbage." This peculiar statement lingered in her mind, an odd and seemingly inconsequential detail that somehow felt significant.

"Did you see?" Xendrix exclaimed, his voice filled with triumphant energy, startling Noctavia from her reverie.

"Yes, I saw it," she replied, mustering a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Aren't you going to say it?" Xendrix asked, his face alight with the glow of achievement. The innocence and simplicity of his joy reminded her that, beneath what had just happened, he was still just a young boy.

"Say what?" Noctavia queried, though she already knew the answer.

"You know, like you did after the earth element trial!"

Realizing the importance of this moment for Xendrix, Noctavia set aside her concerns and assumed the role of the mentor once more. "Prince Xendrix, you have successfully completed the Trial of Water. Congratulations." She bowed respectfully.

Yet, even as she spoke these words of commendation, the peculiar smell of cabbage lingered in the air, stronger than ever.

It was an odd, almost comical detail.

> Comparatively, it's intriguing how humans age so rapidly, while Menschen remain ageless forever after twenty-three winters, potentially living for eternity as long they are not stabbed in any vital point. One noticeable aspect that has piqued curiosity is how, as humans age, they acquire a distinct scent, often described as reminiscent of mould and cabbage. This olfactory transformation becomes a tangible reminder of the passage of time, serving as a curious contrast to the timeless existence of the Menschen. But why cabbage?——Between Lore and Legacy: The Mystifying Histories of the Menschen Vol. III by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune