When Ardwyn woke, he was disoriented and confused. But then the events from earlier returned to him — the witch that had trapped him and then taken his life. He felt immediately for his chest, patting down the area near his heart. The bleeding was gone. There was no wound, not even a scar. Startled, he looked around the clearing. He noticed that right next to him was Michael, laying down and sleeping on the grass.

Was it really Michael? The figure looked like him. How had he managed to get here? None of this made sense, leaving Ardwyn puzzled. He was at least glad to be alive again.

A night breeze blew through, sweeping away any remaining evil energy. A calmness descended over him. He seemed alone. The witch was nowhere to be found. What had happened to her? He carefully scanned the area around them, and in the corner behind him, by one of the stones he noticed a figure in a dark robe sitting down. He jumped at first, scared of coming across someone who had been there with him all along.

“You have finally woken,” the figure said. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Waraheim.”

The man seemed strangely relaxed, as if none of this was out of the ordinary for him. He appeared middle-aged, with dark, long hair that flowed down over his ears and settled on his shoulders. Yet, his presence felt much older than his looks suggested.

“What happened to the witch?” Ardwyn asked, a thousand questions racing through his mind. “How did my friend, Michael get here?”

“Patience. There is much to explain,” Waraheim said. “But first, tell me, how are you feeling?” He walked toward Ardwyn and sat on one of the nearby stones. Taking a deep breath of the night air, he looked as if he genuinely enjoyed being there.

“Fine, I guess,” Ardwyn said. “I thought I was dead.”

“You were.”

“Then why am I alive now?”

“I summoned your essence back from the void.”

“What?” Ardwyn asked. “How is that possible?”

“I used a healing spell. Actually,” Waraheim said, “that was the easiest part of this entire affair.” He took another breath of the night air, and closed his eyes. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to explain anything. “Pardon me,” he said. “I have been locked away for a thousand years. I haven’t felt the night air like this in a long time. The simple things that we take for granted, right?”

“Are you a mage also?” Ardwyn asked.

“You could say that,” Waraheim said. “But that was a long time ago. This world here, what is it like?”

“To tell you the truth, I’m not from here. My world is entirely different than this one.”

“I see,” Waraheim said, considering the statement. “Do you believe in destiny?”

“I don’t know,” Ardwyn said.

“Do you suppose that destiny works across time and space, across worlds?” Waraheim said.

“I’ve never considered the idea.” Ardwyn said. “How about you?”

“Who knows,” Waraheim said. Ardwyn had expected more of a thought-out answer. “But what’s strange is how you managed to finally set me free, locked for ages in the portal’s edge. I’m grateful to you for that.”

“How did I do that?” Ardwyn asked, confused.

“You and this person, who is still sleeping, did that.” Waraheim said. Ardwyn looked at Michael, who had turned over on his side, looking comfortable in his sleep. Ardwyn considered waking him, but then realized Michael would likely be extremely confused about everything that had happened. He decided to wait a little longer.

Waraheim continued, “To unlock the portal, two World Bridges were needed to stand in the middle and wait. There was no sacrifice required either. The witch misread the ancient book — which is understandable, since the author had few fragments of information to go on.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“What happened to her?”

“I created a portal for her to go through.” A sly smile formed on Waraheim’s face. “Unfortunately for her, it wasn’t the Nexus portal.”

“Why?” Ardwyn asked.

“Well, opening up the Nexus portal is not so easy.” Waraheim explained. “So far, it is still just a one-way portal. No one has been able to figure out how to go through the other side. I didn’t actually cross through but was stuck on the edge of the portal.”

Ardwyn considered the opportunity to ask Waraheim more about the portal. “I heard that the Ethereal Blossoms can be used to open up the Nexus portal. Is that true? I would like to find a way to get back home, to my world.”

Waraheim paused for a moment. He rubbed the side of his head with his fingers. After some time had passed, he finally turned to Ardwyn and said, “Truthfully, that I do not know. There is much that I still do not understand about this portal.” Waraheim looked around the large stones in the clearing. “I would take great heed in anything that you read about the Nexus portal, because this portal was created even hundreds of years before my time.”

“How then were you locked in the Nexus portal for so long, who did that to you?”

Waraheim paused for a moment, as if recalling memories long forgotten. “It was the doing of a sorcerer named Naair. Back then, he ruled the land, being one of the first to discover the secrets of powerful magic. He never shared those arcane methods with anyone else, desiring the totality of the power only for himself. He forced others to bring him offerings and gifts throughout the lands, fine silk sheets, fruits and grains, gold and silver coins and artifacts. Everyone in the surrounding lands had to pay him a tribute or risk his wrath unleashed upon them.”

The night around them grew colder with the late hour. “Let’s have a fire to keep ourselves warm for the time being.” Waraheim raised his hand, and conjured a fire near them.

He continued his story, staring at the fire, the blaze reflecting in his eyes. “Despite Naair’s strict forbidding of the study of arcane magic, some people tried to do so anyway. When caught they were put to death immediately. My father was one of those who attempted to study the arcane arts in secret. When our family realized that Naair had found out, we had no choice but to move to a far-off land, leaving behind our lives in the simple farming village.”

“Why did Naair want so badly for no one else to learn magic? Was it just to hold on to power?” Ardwyn asked.

“You would be surprised what people will do for power,” Waraheim said. “You are still young. You will find out in time as your days add up. The desire for power can corrupt someone’s soul from within, rotting them, leaving a lifeless corpse who seeks to do nothing else but to maintain their total grip on the allure of power.”

“Was your family able to escape safely?”

“For a time,” Waraheim said. “My father taught me arcane ways of magic from a very early age. Being at that young impressionable age, I was able to take to the ways of magic easily, and become quite skilled.”

Ardwyn could somehow relate to Waraheim. He too had enrolled at the mage academy to study the ways of magic. He realized that Waraheim was once like him, a beginner who also started from nothing.

Waraheim’s eyes seemed lost somewhere in space, staring at the fire, his mind transported to those days of his youth.

“In that time,” Waraheim continued, “magic was wild and unpredictable. There was no established tradition of practice. We were more like sailors, charting unknown waters, never quite sure what we might discover — or what might discover us.

“But that was the beauty of it. The danger, the risk, you were rewarded when you finally stumbled upon something worthy of your efforts.”

Waraheim fell silent for a moment, lost in memory. The fire crackled, sending sparks spiraling up into the night sky. In the distance, an owl hooted.

“Of course,” he said, “such power never comes without a price. Naair’s agents were always searching for anyone who dared to challenge his monopoly on magic. I lived in constant fear of discovery, practicing my arts in hidden caves and forgotten ruins, always looking over my shoulder.

“It was a harsh life, but it made me into what I am today. I learned not just how to wield magic, but also how to hide it, how to weave it in into the very fabric of my being so it became as natural and invisible as breathing.”

Waraheim stood up and took a deep breath. “But perhaps that’s enough reminiscing for one night. Your friend will be waking soon.”

Ardwyn considered everything Waraheim had said. Michael was still sleeping in the soft grass. The morning sun was starting to come up above the horizon.

“Before you wake your friend,” Waraheim said, “I will be on my way. I have some matters to attend to.”

“What sort of matters?” Ardwyn asked. He wondered what could possibly be still left after a thousand years for Waraheim to attend to.

“Maybe when we cross paths again, I shall reveal that. But for now, there is one thing that I would like to ask you.”

“What is that?”

“I want to help you open the Nexus portal. Not just to help you go back to your world, but also for me to try to return to my own, even if one thousand years in the past. My family is still there, and the world I left. It is said the Nexus portal can create bridges between worlds including those across time.”

“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, but I’ll do what I can.” Ardwyn said.

“Very well then,” Waraheim said. “Meet me here in the town nearby during the next full moon.”

With that, Waraheim turned and left, disappearing into the dark night.