“I used to live here, believe it or not,” Rakash said. Her speech came with long pauses, as if the concept of a conversation was a skill we both had to relearn. “My tribe spent half a decade living in whichever corner of the wastes we could fit in. Bless me, but I’ve come to consider endless rock as homely.”

It felt wrong to respond. Much more important topics hung in the air, waiting to be addressed. Neither of us was ready to talk about what had happened.

“What is this place?” I asked under my breath.

“They’re called the wastes,” Rakash said. “A playground for mages. Dead land where power wielders test out their destructive arsenals. Where duels to the death are led to. Most magic isn’t compatible with nature, as you know. One stray fireball is all we need to burn down an entire forest, if not city. It’s banned by law to cast destruction where nature lives. Often, it’s more than just banned; most consider the destruction of nature a sin. Gorthorn mages are afraid of learning destructive magic at all in fear of angering the gods.

“The Krose, however… Well, this is their solution to the problem. You can’t feel bad destroying nature, when it has already been destroyed centuries ago by ancestors. This all used to be healthy nature, once. Today, the vast majority of the country looks like this. It’s all a result of decades of irresponsible magic use.”

I gulped. Somehow, I didn’t doubt her one bit. With the feeling in the air, with magical experience behind my back… I could believe the craters were a result of spells.

“The Krose aren’t exactly proud of the wastes filling their country,” Rakash said. “People rarely visit, unless they have a clear purpose. Even learning mages tend to trot only the outskirts of the wastes, wishing not to get lost deeper. There aren’t many places as lonely as the wastes.”

“That’s why you lived here?” I asked. “To avoid war?”

“To avoid the Krose,” Rakash said. “No village in Krose lands will ever accept a Gorthorn tribe, not if we bring all the money in the world. Gorthorns have been treated like this long before the war.” She watched the landscape with longing eyes. “My tribe was more than content with the wastes as a home. Living here felt like existing nowhere at all. Together alone in the wastes’ loneliness. Then our camp was poached.”

I glanced at her. Sitting on her rock with her head low, her usual intimidating presence was entirely gone. The fabric on her right shoulder was still wet from my tears.

She let out a laugh and offered a smile. “Forgive my ramblings. I’ve been looking for my people ever since. The same as Shena. She became a member of our tribe at the age of eleven. Although she won’t reveal this to anyone she doesn’t trust with her life.”

We continued staring into the distance. I didn’t know what to say. The more my head calmed down, the more the mood shifted from disturbing to uncomfortable.

“Rakash, I’m sorry,” I said again. “I really didn’t…”

“Keep it,” Rakash said. “I don’t want to hear your reasoning. And I won’t blame you for what you tried. I’ll only ask you not to do it again.”

“I… I won’t.”

“My request is selfish, I know,” Rakash said. “I have no right to force you to fight when you don’t want to. Mages should be allowed to quit if they truly don’t wish to deal with their fate. But… It just feels wrong. I can’t let my savior, someone with such a kind heart, do what you…”

Her words trailed off. I knew what she was trying to say, and my brain wasn’t any better at processing the information. I wasn’t sure if I regretted going forward with my plan, or if I was annoyed to have failed. Life would have been a whole lot easier if I’d cast the fireball.

“Truth is, I’ve tried the same,” Rakash said.

I lifted my head in surprise.

“The first time was a week after being left alone in the poachers’ cells,” she said. “I tried to bite off my tongue to bleed out, or to choke on my flesh. I couldn’t do it through the pain. Barely halfway through, I healed myself with mana by instinct. The cult sensed my use of magic and assumed I was trying to escape. So, they whipped me.

“The second attempt… It was right after the whipping. I thought I was out of options. I couldn’t smash my head against the wall, since I knew the pain would force my magic to heal me. I couldn’t cut my throat with my hands tied. So, I did the only thing I could. I filled my chords with mana in hopes I would explode from the inside.”

I stared at her in shock. “It didn’t work?”

“No,” Rakash said. “I was a coward. I let the mana out at the last second. The cult whipped me for a week straight after that.”

This was recent, I realized. Rakash was still in the same cells just a few days ago. She’d tried to end her life just weeks, or even days, before our arrival?

“It’s hard to find the will to live, knowing your tribe is all slaves and death, and your efforts have only led them deeper into the poachers’ cells,” Rakash continued. “I’m ashamed now, knowing I couldn’t have been more foolish, but back then… it truly felt like the only option.”

Rakash’s sincerity showed on her face. Her worries were fresh, not something she had fully overcome. “I thank you for bringing me out of that mess. It’s because of you that I have the opportunity to chase my people again.”

I opened my mouth, then shut it again. I felt like a child learning Santa wasn’t real. Rakash had attempted suicide? How was that possible? “But…” I asked. “You’re so strong? Is it all a front?”

“People have two selves, Cillian,” Rakash said. “Their weak self, and their strong self. Not one self is any less real than the other. I am not a liar when I cast my worries aside to fight. Nor am I suddenly a failed specimen when I tell you of my weakness. It is only human to embrace one’s strong self, just as it is human to feel distraught by weakness.”

“I… agree,” I said, my gaze down. “It’s just… I don’t think I have a strong self. I’m weak, always. I mean, I’m practically useless when it comes to magic.”

“You misunderstand me,” Rakash said. “One’s strong self has no correlation with skills or physical strength. True strength comes from the head. From the determination to put effort, despite life’s failures. This is the advice that Darko wished to give you. His idea of a moping fit is, in my words, a state where a person embraces their weak self with no intentions of ever recovering willpower.”

Another wave of hopelessness washed over me. Somewhere within me, I already understood Rakash’s request. I understood what my team asked of me, and I knew they were right.

“You’re asking me to try harder,” I said. “To embrace my life as a mage instead of running from it. You want me to put in the effort. I know. It’s just… It’s not so simple. I can’t. I’m already going insane, and I’ve done this for two days.”

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Rakash looked off in the distance. “It’s not me, or even Darko, who wants to see you put in the effort. It’s you. Believe me, putting effort is a thousand times easier than letting yourself drown in misery.”

I took an uncomfortable breath. The sun slowly descended ahead of us along with the daylight moons. The moons were no longer blindingly bright.

What could I tell Rakash? I couldn’t reveal I wasn’t truly from this world. I couldn’t tell her I was a Goddess’s apostle; I was physically blocked. How could I push through all these obstacles, pretending nothing was wrong?

“Cillian,” Rakash suddenly said. “I wish to remind you that the death of Em and Ry was not your fault. Neither are the deaths of the mana workers.”

My heart thumped, then seemed to freeze completely.

“I apologize for reigniting this topic,” Rakash said. “You do not wish to speak of this; I can tell. Yet my experience with stubbornness tells me that this is not a conversation we can afford to ignore. I know that look in your eyes. You have indulged yourself in delusions, having convinced yourself that everything bad in the world is a result of your actions. This, believe it or not, is untrue. It is not you who killed Em and Ry. This fault goes to the cultists of Azetoth.”

“But… my fire… It splashed Em!”

“It did,” Rakash said. “And that was done entirely in self-defense with good intentions. Did your fireball splash Em because you wished to kill her, or because you wished to defend her from the Warden? Did your fireball kill her, or was the blow dealt by a cultist crossbow?”

I stared at her figure. My lips struggled to form the words I wished to say. “But if I hadn’t—”

“If we were all geniuses, Azetoth and his demon followers would have perished under our hands already.” Rakash spoke far louder than me. “If I wasn’t such an incompetent mage, my tribe wouldn’t have been caught at all. If I was just a little smarter, I would have located everyone already, on my way to free them of slavery. Yet I am none of those things.

“I blamed myself every day, I did, just like you do, but where did that bring me? To the poachers’ cells, with not an ounce of hope of recovery. It is not my fault my people are forced into war. And it certainly isn’t our damned fault that the cultists of Azetoth decided to wage war on the people who refuse his treatment.”

I tried to conjure an answer, to argue for my case, though I quickly realized I didn’t know what I was arguing for. Another lump had formed in my throat. As if I hadn’t already let out enough emotions today.

“Remember,” Rakash said, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Their fates are not your fault. No amount of regret will correct what is done. We can only push forward to avenge them.”

God fucking dammit, I thought. Again, Rakash hit it right on the money, exactly on my insecurities. She attacked them like a burglar pounding on my window, expecting to be let in, expecting me to simply let go of my worries.

The lump in my throat escaped from my hold, much to my attempts to stop it. It evolved into sniffles. I tried to get words out, to speak like a normal damn human, but all I had to show was a teary face. Soon enough, another wave of uncontrollable emotions flowed out of my eyes. I hid my face in shame.

What was wrong with me? I was so damn tired of myself, so utterly sick of being such a useless human being. Why did I have to hide my fears? Would Rakash kill me just because I showed a little bit of weakness? Did I lose my right to live just for crying a little?

“Rakash, what should I do?” I asked through my tears. “I can’t fight the cult. I just can’t. I’m not cut out for magic. I’ll go insane if I have to cast another fireball.”

“Are you truly as inexperienced with magic as you claim?” Rakash asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Then you must learn,” Rakash said. “Whether it be to quell the Corruption, or to learn responsibility with the art of magic, you must learn, for the sake of your future. When, in a year or two, you are confident in your abilities, you are free to search for a new purpose.”

“What if the others see my fireballs?” I asked. “What if I shoot one too close to them? I don’t ever wish to cast one again…”

“That, my no-breed friend, is why secrets are treasured,” Rakash said with a smile. “You have no obligation to reveal a damnest thing. A good man is allowed good secrets. If I understood correctly, you are not forced to use these powers of yours.”

I faced the stone ground below us, breathing in through my mouth, slowly calming down. “I don’t know if I can do it. I can learn magic, maybe, but I can’t kill cultists. I’m not that kind of person.”

“You don’t have to be,” Rakash said. “Most Gorthorns don’t learn offensive spells at all in fear of angering the gods. You may have different reasons, but it is entirely acceptable not to learn spells to hurt people. Supportive mages are as useful as the destructive ones.”

I formed a weak smile. “I’m sorry. For being so damn afraid.”

“There is no reason to apologize,” Rakash said. “It is the creators who deserve to kneel for creating this cruel power we call magic. We all fight for the position that loses the least. Nobody has won yet.”

I took a breath, watching the sunset. I didn’t know if I agreed with Rakash’s words. But, hell, when was the last time I’d been hugged? Just hearing some reassurance offered much-needed warmth for my stupid head.

As was always the case, no matter how many depressive episodes I lived through, sitting around in hopes of improvement was never the answer. I had to do something, hard as the path may be. It was about time I started believing in this fact.

“You all might be right,” I said, wiping my eyes. “I have to learn. I will only cause harm if I try to reject magic.”

Rakash smiled. “I apologize for pushing you. I hope my speech was beneficial.”

“Thank you, Rakash,” I said. “I needed it. I will try my best. I promise. Even if my best is not any good.”

“If it isn’t, there is no helping it. You can only try harder.” Rakash said with a grin. She stood up, patted her robe, then put on a serious face. “Now, I hesitate to say this, but I believe we have spent far more time than we were allowed. I have another confession to make.”

I stood up, sensing a shift in her tone. “What is it?” I asked.

Rakash pulled out a letter from her inside pocket and offered it to me. “I am leaving,” she said.

I raised my eyebrows. “Leaving? Where?”

“I will continue the search for my people,” Rakash said. “Our goals match, yet I am afraid I cannot stay with you. It is foolish of Leader Darko to escort a Gorthorn this close to the King’s quarters. I will not step one foot into Arkber.”

“Can I… convince you to stay?”

“I don’t have much of a choice unless your leader wishes to abandon his plan for the Gorthorn lifestyle,” Rakash said. “My presence simply is not compatible with the racism of larger cities.”

“I see…” I said.

“Don’t look so down,” Rakash said with a smile. “This is not a farewell or a goodbye, but a simple deviation. Offer the letter to Shena. She will require an explanation of my actions. That scoundrel wouldn’t let me leave without tricks. My apology for using you for the message.”

“Ah, that’s okay…” I said, biting my lip. “I’ll deliver the letter.”

“Promise me you will not give up,” Rakash said. “I, in turn, promise we will meet again. Our paths will cross. Let’s hope this is on winning terms. The cultists will pay for what they have done.”

I offered her the best smile I could. “I will try my best.” I will not attempt suicide again.

Rakash patted me on the shoulder. “Return to the wagon. And, ah, don’t get lost. Would be a shame to see you starve in the forest. See you around.”

With that, she turned towards the endless landscape of the wastes and began the trot. She walked and walked, never looking back. I could have watched her for the next half an hour, and her figure would still have been visible in the distance.

A sore taste welled up in my throat. Was it foolish of me to call Rakash a true friend? A trusted friend, one who didn’t make fun of me behind my back or see me as a tool for reputation. It sure felt like I had lost a true friend.

I better get back… I thought. As Rakash warned, time must have been running out. I stood and haphazardly climbed back to the forest we came from. Feeling both calm and empty at the same time, I trotted towards the wagon.

Not long into the trip, I became aware of the fact that I had, yet again, made more promises towards magehood.