I grew up wanting to be a hero. As a child, I wanted nothing more than to become like Driogor the Valiant or Eurasia the Kind. Instead, I became a butcher. When the Sadmora attacked my village, they left me with nothing but hate. I believed my cause to be righteous. To be just. What a fool I was. After all, everyone is the hero in their own story.

This is mine.

Excerpt from Of righteous Evil, preface. Written by Elusco, bane of the Sadmora. Published in 540 a.f, banned throughout Ceraviehl in the same year. No known copies exist.

Silas awoke to the sound of a high-pitched, metallic squeak that assaulted his ears. Heavy boots stomped on the wooden planks, each step growing louder.

“I hate to break it to you boy, but no princess is coming to give you a wake-up kiss.”

Confused, Silas blearily opened his eyes. A heartbeat of panic shot through his body before he recognized the intimidating figure looming over him. Eyebrows scrunched together, Tom’s gray eyes looked down at him with disapproval.

“Finally. I once more,” he made a short pause “made breakfast while you slept, but I expect you outside immediately, understood?”

“Yes, master,” Silas mumbled.

Tom stomped back outside. Silas was surprised to see Gnarly just waking up, although the process looked a bit odd. One moment it was laying on his bed, curdled up like a cat. The next it was already on its legs, jumping towards Silas’ nose to begin its usual wake-up routine.

“No nose-pulling needed today, Gnarly,” Silas said, quickly cupping his nose with one hand.

Gnarly crossed its arms for a moment before opting to simply pull on one of Silas’ fingers instead. “I get that you like it, but it hurts, you know?”

“Creak, creak.”

Silas had always felt like he understood Gnarly, but it seemed different, now. His friend’s feelings were somehow clearer, and he could actually sense Gnarly reacting to him in turn. Was this also related to him breaking through? The floor beneath his feet creaked as he got up. He again wondered about the weird change in his perception.

How could he possibly see things behind his back? While he could see some things that were behind him, others were a blank spot to his sight. It felt like a whole new world had opened up to him. Hopefully, the old man would tell him why—preferably without any enigmatic beating around the bush.

“Took you long enough,” Tom greeted him.

“Master, I have a question.”

“I know.”

“Why did I lose consciousness yesterday? Can I now use real magic? And why can I see some things with my eyes closed? Also, do you know something about bonds and how they work? By the way, why don’t you have a bonded creature?”

Silas could hardly sit still and hadn’t even touched his breakfast. His eyes were completely focused on Tom, who tried not to smirk at the fitting duo in front of him. Gnarly and Silas, one more energetic than the other.

“First of all, losing consciousness when becoming a User is nothing unusual. Your body and mind need to get accustomed to the sudden influx of power,” Tom began. “The ability to sense your surroundings is directly related to the nature of your Inner Landscape. As you continue to grow as an Artist, so does your Landscape.

It may not increase in size after reaching the stage of a User, but it will eventually take shape according to your affinities. It is due to those affinities that you are able to sense your surroundings. The more related something is to your affinities and the Arts you practice, the clearer you will be able to sense it.”

Silas listened with rapt attention. By now he felt pretty sure he had some kind of wood-related affinity, but how did he know what his others were? And how many would he have?

“Since wood is also one of my Arts, I will probably be able to help you discover your other ones,” Tom said after Silas had voiced his concerns. “It is not that difficult, assuming they don’t differ too much from your strongest affinity. The stronger your affinity, the easier it is to manipulate the Art corresponding with that affinity.”

Tom then asked Silas if he understood, and gestured toward the bowl of porridge that was slowly growing cold. The boy quickly shoved a few spoons in his mouth before continuing to interrogate Tom.

“I understand, master. But what about Gnarly? Does he have affinities too?”

The old man nodded. “Most certainly. Every creature does, to a degree at the very least. Apart from probably having an affinity for wood, trees, or something of the like, Gnarly may have other affinities that have yet to be discovered.”

Silas’ eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Are wood and tree not the same affinity?” he asked Tom.

“No, not at all.” Tom held up a hand to stop Silas before he could ask another question. “But you don’t need to concern yourself with that yet.”

The answer was typical for the old man, but Silas would not let that damper his mood.

“Can you also help Gnarly to find its affinities?” he asked, scratching the last of the porridge out of his bowl.

Tom shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. But it will eventually discover them as it continues to grow.”

“How large will Gnarly grow anyway? Do spriggans live as long as humans do?”

“There are almost no records of spriggans bonding with humans, and their sizes vary from two feet to ten. Some have been known to be hundreds of years old, and very powerful.”

“How powerful exactly? More powerful than Artists? More powerful than you?”

“Yes and no. Right now, however, it is more important that we continue with your training,” Tom said, smiling as he bent to pick up a nearby branch.

Oh no. The old man smiled very rarely and when he did, Silas tended to get hurt. Feet moving of their own accord, Silas frantically tried to dodge the incoming projectile.

“How is this magical training? I don’t even know how to control a single piece of wood!” Silas exclaimed. His eyes kept glancing warily at Tom in case the old man decided to throw another branch.

“Right! Which is why, today, you are going to learn how to do so!” Tom proclaimed while wriggling his eyebrows.

Eyes squinting, Silas shook his head. “Then why did you… Ah, never mind.”

“To manipulate anything with your Art, you need to first establish a connection with it. To do so, concentrate on your Artsight and try to latch on to it. If a stable connection between you and the object is made, you can use this connection to guide the energy from your Inner Landscape into the object you are trying to control.”

“The rest is simple. Simply will the object to levitate,” Tom said, every single stick and branch around them abruptly shooting upwards before stopping at the height of Silas’ head.

“The more you practice, the easier it will be to split your attention between different targets. The bigger and denser your Inner Landscape, the longer you will be able to use your Art before growing tired. Any questions?” Tom asked, the dozens of branches and sticks simultaneously falling onto the grass again.

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“You earlier said that by getting access to my Inner Landscape I became a User. What is the next stage, then? And at what stage are you?” Silas asked his master.

“Artists on the next stage are called Wielders. To become one, every User needs to enlarge their Inner Landscape to its limit and then awaken at least one affinity. The name of my stage is not something I will share. You’ll have to satisfy yourself with this.”

Suddenly, the earth below Tom started to rumble. A platform of earth separated itself from the rest of the clearing, catapulting Tom into the air. After reaching the height of the treetops around them, the platform stopped rising. Looking down at Silas from high above, the old man simply stepped off the platform. Instead of falling, he gracefully floated down, with the earthen platform still hanging in the air.

“Along the higher stages the use of your Arts becomes increasingly complicated, but also more versatile,” he said, now almost having reached the ground again.

Silas’ eyes were as big as saucers. His gaze alternated between Tom, the hole in the earth, and the platform of earth still hanging in the air, high above them. That was power. Controlling nature to defy gravity itself and make the earth tremble and rupture with naught but your sheer will. Silas swore to himself that one day, he would become so powerful he’d surpass the old man. It was either that, or die trying.

“Creeaaak,” said Gnarly. Its gaze was focused on the platform above, one arm reaching out as if to touch it.

“Maybe the tales about Ignis are not that exaggerated, after all,” Silas said dreamily. His father had told him many such stories about the famous fire Mage who had single-handedly defended the pass to the Steppes hundreds of years ago.

A snort from Tom brought Silas out of his reminiscence.

“Any fire Mage calling himself “Ignis” is a joke, if you ask me. Might as well hang paintings of yourself in your own bedroom, if you’re that far gone,” Tom said, upper lip raised.

“How can you say that? You didn’t know him.” Tom opened his mouth to respond, only to close it with an exhausted sigh.

By now, the earthen platform was gradually floating back down, fitting perfectly into the hole it had created. Silas watched as the grass grew of its own accord and covered the upturned earth. After just a few seconds, the surface looked as smooth as ever, not a single halm betraying what had just happened.

How was this even possible? Silas couldn’t begin to imagine how Tom’s Inner Landscape would have to look, to be able to effortlessly wield that much power.

“Since you are now a User, you will use the energy of your Inner Landscape for two different purposes. The first is to practice your Art by controlling pieces of wood. The second is just as important: I want you to slowly guide the energy out of your Inner Landscape into your body, starting with your bones.”

Silas frowned. He had never heard of any Artist forcing the energy out of their Landscapes and into their bodies. Why would he want to do that? It didn’t make any sense.

“This is a very delicate process and will likely seem wasteful at first, but trust me, it’ll be worth the effort. Oh, and don’t forget to tend the garden and check the fence before you start.”

Silas sighed. Tending the gardens was such tedious work. He felt like he was at constant war with every rabbit in the forest. No matter how high or sturdy he made the fence, the annoying buggers would always find a way around it.

A while later, Silas sat under his favorite tree to begin the first exercise. He was still skeptical about moving energy out of his Inner Landscape, but Tom would probably know if Silas didn’t do it. Besides, he didn’t want to give the old man any more reasons to hit him on the head.

The fog easily left his Inner Landscape, but he could feel it dissipating as soon as he tried to guide it towards one of the bones in his right arm. What a waste this was. Only a fraction of the original fog remained, which then seemed to simply disappear into his bone. What was he trying to accomplish?

With his Landscape already half-drained from the useless exercise, he started to focus on the stick lying in front of him. Eyes closed, he opened himself to his new sight, outlines of the various pieces of wood lying around him shining dimly before his inner eye.

His concentration latched onto a small piece of wood. It became clearer the longer he focused, the outlines becoming more defined with each heartbeat. Eventually, something clicked. The newfound connection immediately began to flood him with knowledge of the stick. Old, yet light. Frail, but determined.

Commanding the stick with his mind, however, was near impossible. It would either keep shooting into the air until the connection to it was broken or not move at all. It took all of Silas’ willpower to not give up right there and then. The barbarians wouldn’t wait for him. Eventually, he managed to make the stick levitate, if just barely. The trick had been to figure out how much energy the stick needed to hover instead of trying to use his magic to hold it in the air by force.

Satisfied with his success, Silas closed his eyes in contentment. The stick continued to float while he dozed, a minuscule tug on the energy of his Inner Landscape.

“I don’t know if that’s the smallest stick in the whole forest, but I’d say you came pretty close, apprentice,” a voice interrupted his his momentary tranquility.

Becoming awake in a heartbeat, Silas immediately pointed to the still-floating stick.

“Master! I managed to make the stick levitate as you told me to!” he exclaimed.

Tom harrumphed. “Marvelous. Now go get your spear, it’s time we do some real sparring.”

What followed was another beat-up for Silas. The only difference was that this time, they enhanced their strikes with magical power. More than once, Silas used either too little or too much energy and lost his balance. It felt like he was trying to juggle two balls while using an extra arm he hadn’t known existed.

“If I hadn’t moved, you might have had a chance at hitting me there,” Tom droned from above as Silas spit the grass out of his mouth.

“After lunch, we’ll do the same thing, but with the bow instead.” The old man headed towards the cabin. “Come, the food won’t cook itself.”

Despite his exhaustion and pain, Silas smiled. Every time they went out to hunt, Tom had been the one to shoot their prey. Once, he had taken a shot from so far Silas hadn’t even seen the deer they had been hunting. The arrow had reached the animal in an instant, hitting it in its heart. It hadn’t even taken two steps before it collapsed—a perfect shot.

One day, he’d get there as well. While Silas didn’t like the prospect of ending the life of an animal, he did enjoy the stalking, hunting, and everything that came with it. How far would he be able to shoot an arrow if he enforced his bow with his Art? A shot so powerful the following shockwave cleared the ground around him, his arrows would cut mountains in two. He would hit his targets from a thousand yards, he would—

“Are you waiting for something?”

Tom’s eyebrows were raised expectantly as he looked at Silas. Had his master said something? Eyes darting from left to right, Silas took a hesitant step backward.

“Uhh… no?”

The chopping sound became louder.

“Then why are you still standing there?” Tom’s eyes stared into him.

Silas swallowed. Judging by the twitch in the old man’s right eye, his master had definitely said something. Taking another step backward, Silas glanced towards the door. By now, the knife was so fast Silas could see bits of carrot flying around. How did the old man not cut himself?

“Did you say something, esteemed master Tometheor?” Bit by bit, Silas edged his way closer to the door of the cabin. The twitch in the old man’s eye intensified.

“Garlic. Shed. Now.”

A while later, the two sat around the campfire, each eating their bowl of stew. Gnarly sat comfortably on Silas’ shoulder and munched on a piece of apple that was almost as big as his head. Tom studied Gnarly for a second.

“Besides working on your Inner Landscape, you should also get accustomed to using your Art together with Gnarly,” he told Silas. “Since it’s a creature, it naturally has access to its Inner Landscape already. Nevertheless, Gnarly needs to practice its Art just as much as you do.”

The spoon with stew stopped just short of Silas’ mouth. He had not even thought about his little friend, and what he might already be able to do. Silas gestured to a small stick beside him. “Can you make that stick levitate, Gnarly?”

A muffled creak sounded out from behind the piece of apple. A heartbeat later, the stick bobbed in front of Silas’ face. His mouth fell open. On the first try?

“Seems like I have a bit of catching up to do,” Silas mumbled into his bowl.

“That is impressive indeed,” Tom observed.

Silas’ jaw clenched. It just wasn’t fair. He had worked so hard and had even gotten access to his Inner Landscape two moons before Tom’s deadline. Yet the old man had never praised him, not even once.

“Creak, creak, creak,” Gnarly voiced soothingly into his ear. Hidden behind the wooden bowl in his hands, Tom’s mouth twitched ever so slightly.

Although Silas was eager to try and use his Art with the bow, he soon had to admit that empowering his shots with his Art was even more difficult than using it with the spear.

To accomplish what Tom called an “empowered shot”, Silas had to first establish a connection with the arrow as well as the bow before drawing the latter. After that, he needed to direct the energy of his Inner Landscape along the connection and into the arrow and bow as he drew it. According to Tom, the goal was to empower the natural trajectory of the arrow, rather than try to push it forward.

It was not only a highly complex but also a very delicate process, requiring absolute control during each step. Silas always lost focus either while aiming or trying to infuse the arrow with energy. Sometimes, it simply flew forward without him releasing the string. In other instances it wobbled in mid-flight, completely missing its target.

No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t do it. After yet another failed attempt, he resigned himself to train with the spear instead.

Concentrating on his forms, Silas lost himself in the connection with his spear. He soon started to sweat, yet his mind was calm as he flowed from one form into the other.

“Already gave up on the empowered shot, I see?”

Turning around, Silas glared at his master.

“It’s just too difficult! How am I supposed to split my focus like that?

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it eventually. I think,” Tom responded with a shrug of his shoulders. “You won’t need it for tomorrow anyway.”

His master’s gray eyes had a strange sheen to them. He looked… excited?

“What are we going to do tomorrow?” Silas asked, shifting from one foot to the other.

Tom smiled.

Gods, no. Silas immediately prepared himself to dodge another branch. Eyes wide open and grin so broad he could see the old man’s teeth, Tom stared into him.

“Tomorrow, we are going to hunt.”

Somehow, Silas had the impression his master was not talking about rabbits or deer.