A flock of Highland Runners crested a distant hill. Their shrill cawing split the morning air. The caravan was in full momentum, they had awoken early and set off as fast as possible.

The world was gaining an almost dark and malevolent cast. And it wasn’t due to turbulence. Everything was fleeing south before an ever encroaching threat.

When the sun was hanging far overhead the mixed group stopped for a break. Many collapsed as soon as the relentless marching was no longer needed. Food and drink was handed out and people ate quickly and quietly.

Leif walked through the caravan, absorbing the growing tension the humans and their animals were feeling. Several of his own animals were intermixing with the humans. They seemed more inclined to the nomads than the expedition.

He saw the largest hog, scarred and battered from a lifetime of struggle be handed a bundle of fireside cooked bread and fruit from a nomad girl who did a little bow. Leif almost missed a step when the hog dipped its head in response.

Did it just bow back? Or am I seeing things? He shook his head and continued on.

Leif found the group he was searching for. Marcus sat cross legged on a patch of short wild grass while Sieg practised axe forms nearby. Purple lightning crackled around the mage, his glasses partially hiding his closed eyes.

Marcus peeped open an eye as Leif sat down next to him. “Hmmm. The student seeks advice from the master.” He said with a smirk in his most sagely of tones.

If Leif could roll his eyes he likely would have. This was his third day of learning about spell casting from Marcus. The human adopted the gruff diction of an older man and spoke with prompt pompousness.

Leif wasn’t sure why and Marcus just smiled when he had asked. His ability to practise was dwindling as the caravan spent less and less time idle, even going partly into the night.

“Recall the teachings.” Marcus said in his odd way of talking.

The spriggan did so, mentally recalling what he had been taught.

“Wrong!” Marcus bellowed. Coughing slightly before continuing. “Out loud. You must repeat the lessons out loud. It’s very important!”

Leif didn’t understand. Sieg also seemed to share his confusion. “Marcus. What on earth are you doing?” The man said, letting his axe vanish and wiping sweat off his brow.

“I am very wise.” The mage said sagely.

“Very annoying.”

“Mhmm. Yes, that too.”

“How is anyone supposed to meditate with you acting like a clown?”

“With great focus and concentration.”

Leif tuned them out, focusing internally. It was surprising how easily he could centre himself while remaining still. As if there was a part of him that relished any opportunity to stay in place. As for what he had learnt?

Over the past few days Marcus had explained how one progressed their spell casting. If cultivation required an abundance of resources, and comprehension was about diligent practice, then spell casting was someone’s ability to persuade not just their own magic, but the world itself.

The mage had described the process as having an argument with an abstract concept, and coming away having convinced it you’re worth listening to.

The first step was being able to sense whatever concept one’s spell skill would allow them to interact with. Marcus had said that this part was both frustrating and tedious. It involved someone opening themselves up to the world via meditation or intense concentration.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

So it was strange then that Leif didn’t seem to have any issue connecting to, or perhaps drawing the attention of ‘the will of the world.’

Even now, barely a few minutes into meditation he could feel something moving just beyond the edges of his perception. He mentally beckoned it closer and something invisible shifted around him.

The Will of Life, as he had come to call it over the past three days, was a playful and almost juvenile presence. And while it seemed more than happy to comply with his most simple requests Leif had likewise found the concept to be extremely stubborn.

Whenever Leif triggered [Healing Palm] or even [Embolden Vegetation] the will responded quickly and easily. And like a key fitting into its designated lock everything worked as expected. His skills were empowered at the cost of substantially more strain.

The difficulty was trying to make [Life Spells] adapt to anything that wasn’t life aspected. It just didn’t seem to work. Heal, restore, mend, recover, grow. All of these commands worked perfectly, but only with a limited amount of skills.

He mentally reached for [Gold Iron Physique]. “Create.”

Nothing.

“More.”

Again, nothing.

“Hand? Arm? Strengthen, harden, reinforce…”

None of them worked.

But it felt as if it should. Leif could sense the concept of life being drawn into his blood aspected skills. Only to remain at arms length, unwilling to obey. He had time, maybe the skill simply was too low ranked to tap into what he felt should work.

Or maybe the skill would change when his [Attuned: Life] class was promoted at level ten. Perhaps it was foolish to expect such explosive growth in only a few short days.

Leif’s golden eyes flickered as his vision returned. He saw Sieg marching off while shaking his head, Marcus was standing in an absurd pose, arms above his head and one leg lifted to make a triangle with the other.

The spriggan turned away from the absurdity, taking in the bustling caravan, the break period almost over. A small purple haired child marched out from behind a series of yak pulled carts. He stomped purposefully towards Leif.

Each of his raised fists was clenched tightly around a lulling tongue as two deer obediently followed.

“Mr Tree!” Han called, beaming up at him. “What names?”

“Names?”

“Yeah.” the kid said, nodding enthusiastically. The motion making both of the deer’s heads bob in unison. “What names of deer?”

Leif’s mind temporarily went blank. He… he had never even thought to name either of them. In fact, he hadn’t considered naming any of his animals. Why was that? Wouldn’t that have been a normal thing to do?

He shook his head to clear his thoughts before responding. “I don’t know. They don’t have names.” Both animals gazed up at him, eyes confused. Han scrunched up his brow in concentration.

“This one is Lani.” The boy said, tugging on one of the deer’s tongues. “Because she is cute. And Lani is a cute name.”

Leif nodded hesitantly. Lani… it isn’t a bad name. He mused.

“And this one is Bumhead. Because she keeps following people when they try to go do poos.” The child said confidently.

The spriggan looked down at the newly named deer with pity. “How… how about something shorter?”

“Bum?”

“Something… nicer?”

“Hmmm.”

“What about Bam?” Leif asked. The kid’s eyes lit up.

“BamBum!”

“How about just Bam?” He said, Han nodded after a moment. Leif still needed a way to differentiate both deer visually. They looked practically identical. “How should we tell them apart?” He asked.

“This one is younger and has more dots.” Han said, pointing at Lani. “And this one keeps trying to eat Yak fur. It’s simple to tell apart.”

Leif looked between both nonplussed looking deer. Only now that it was pointed out did he notice the minute differences. “Lani and Bam it is. Try to keep out of trouble you two... please?” He said to both deer.

If the spriggan didn’t know any better he could have sworn both animals eyes briefly unfocused, as if their attention had been briefly drawn to something no one but they could see.

Han released his grasp of the animals tongues, he wiped his palm on his furs before running off giggling to himself. Leif reached out and gave both deer a scratch under the chin.

They nuzzled into his touch. The spriggan smiled inwardly. Even as beneath their feet malice built. A creeping sense of dread leaking into the ground. They would soon be out of time, Leif just hoped he could keep everyone safe.