“Solon. Solon, wake up.” Sheela kicked the solder in the side, making the man jolt awake.

“What is it woman? Have you no soul?” he groaned, sitting up and rubbing his ribs.

Solon looked up at her, frowning as he internally answered his own question.

“We’re finally seeing the end of the desert.” The witch pointed behind herself with her thumb.

The carriage was no longer moving smoothly, the sand of the desert replaced by the bumpy ground of the plates. Solon made the sign of the cross with his good hand, thanking God for seeing the end of the damn ocean of sand. It’s been almost two weeks since they escaped the gladiatorial arena and if it weren’t for Sheela and her magic, he’d probably die of hunger or thirst, most likely both.

She had absolute dominion over the desert even in her diminished, mortal state. Solon had noticed magic slowly returning to her, becoming more and more potent. Sheela no longer struggled to part the dunes in search of animals they could eat or force rainfall on a whim, though the latter left her exhausted every time.

Despite not speaking the same language, the beastfolk boy warmed up to both Solon and Sheela. The pair gave him the reigns of the carriage, since he was the only one who knew the way out of the desert. From attempted conversations Solon learned the boy’s name to be Zeg’ for now. What that meant, the mercenary wasn’t sure. He asked the witch how come she doesn’t understand the language of the beastfolk.

“They were nothing more than savage beasts when I last came across one. Not a single word that could be considered language.” was Sheela’s answer.

Dunes and rocks gave way to shrubs and forests as the group left the desert behind them. Solon never thought he’d be so overjoyed to see a tree. Zeg’ was taking them back to his tribe, according to Sheela. Beastfolk lived in tribal communities, mostly keeping to themselves. Their lack of involvement in anything outside their tribe made them a prime target for slavers and underground fighting rings, since there were very few laws that actually protected them from exploitation, especially on the south side of the continent.

The carriage reached the treeline of a small forest as the sun began to set. Zeg’ yawned behind the reigns, struggling to keep his eyes open. Worten, the name that Solon learned is what this world called the horse-like creatures pulling the carriage, also seemed pretty exhausted. They were specifically bred for deserts, so the rocky terrain of the plates made the animals tire much faster than normal.

“I suppose we can hunker down here for the night.” said the mercenary, hopping out of the wagon.

“Think you can grab us some firewood Sheela?”

“No.” replied Sheela, much to the soldier's surprise.

“You can’t just float over some branches?” he continued, raising an eyebrow above his fake eye.

“No.” Sheela shook her head.

“My magic is no good here.”

This answer left Solon perplexed, but he knew better than to question the witch at this point. He just nodded and hiked over to the trees, starting to gather wood for the fire.

Sheela remained seated in the wagon, looking completely drained while Zeg’ ran around, picking and feeding different weeds to the worten.

As the sun set and the ringed moon had risen, the group sat around the fire in silence.

Sheela and the kid warmed their hands and bare feet, Solon sitting opposite of them, checking his mechanical arm.

“So.” he finally broke the silence.

“How’s it work?”

“Magic?” Sheela looked up at him, already knowing what he had meant.

“Yeah. I’m curious how you seemed so almighty in the desert, but can’t even float a stick here.”

She frowned at the comment but said nothing.

“Well. Everything here has mana.” the witch began, her golden eyes looking at the cracking fire.

“Expound.” said the mercenary.

“Everything in this world has mana. Mana is the force that connects consciousness to matter and energy. The link between the three. It is interwoven in the very foundation of the world.”

Sheela reached for a stick that Zeg’ used to poke at the fire, taking it from the boy's hands and pointing it at Solon.

“This stick contains mana, the same way I contain mana.”

“That tells me very little.” Solon said, looking at the stick.

“Mana allows different things to interact with each other. Back in the days of old, the scholars called it Mana Resonance.”

“So that stick can cast a spell on that rock over there?” Solon pointed at a nearby rock with a half smirk on his face.

“No. Unless the stick is sentient. Mana is connected to consciousness, and can be manipulated through it. Put simply: Mana allows us to shape the world without needing to physically interact with it.” Sheela continued.

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“Sounds too simple.” the mercenary said.

“It does. But it isn’t. Raw mana, mana found in matter and energy which compose this world, has a single resonance. Same… tune for most.” She picked her words, trying to use language the man could understand.

“Same wave length.” he added.

“Yes. You could call it that.” Sheela nodded, a small smile appearing on her face, a sign she was glad he understood.

“With conscious beings like me or Zeg’, everything has a unique wave length, as you put it.”

“So, to cast a spell, you have to synch your own tune to the world around you?”

“Clever, Solon. I guess intelligence is contagious. Just fourteen moons in my presence and you’ve went from having bricks for brains to being able to think.” She laughed, much to the soldier’s annoyance.

“But no. It’s actually the opposite. Raw mana is easily manipulated, so the caster influences it with his own.”

Solon nodded, seemingly interested in this discovery.

“Continue.”

“Everything has mana. Different amounts of it. Like muscles, you can train your mana.” Sheela continued her lecture.

“And like muscles, I assume there is a limit to how much you can grow your mana.” Solon pointed out.

At this point Zeg’ had crawled back into the carriage, curling up on some rags and fell asleep, uninterested in the conversation that was taking place by the fire.

“Yes. The more mana you have, the easier it is to influence the world around you. But it’s not just a numbers game. Just because someone has a great amount of mana, doesn’t mean they are good at controlling the ‘tune’ of it.” the witch continued, extending both her hands towards the fire.

“Since mana is influenced by consciousness, you have to be able to visualise what you want it do.” Sheela said while focusing, causing the fire to begin swirling until it rose like a pillar up to the height of her outstretched hands.

“That is why spells and incantations exist. They don’t really evoke a higher power, like some mages would have you believe, since they usually begin their chants by calling out to the seven divines or the like. It is because when spoken aloud, they can visualise the spell they’re about to cast and it helps them focus better.” She paused for a moment, looking at the man as if a thought had just occurred in her mind.

“You’ve met the elves. Most of their mages use quick casting, basically casting with a single word focus or sometimes without even so much as a word. But you have no mana. None. The reason you are not affected by magic, mine or anyone else’s, is because there is no mana within you to resonate.” the former genie spoke, furrowing her brow in contemplation.

“I don’t understand.” Solon said half-heartedly.

“When two mages or two entities with magic engage in battle, the first one to lose control of their mana resonance loses. Simply put, when I cast a spell to make you blow up, it is my mana overpowering yours and forcing it in the same ‘tune’ or flow. Defensive magic is just that, resisting the opponents attempt to influence your mana with theirs. That's how it used to be at least, back before I was trapped in that damned temple.” Sheela explained.

“So, you’re saying you can blow me up because you have more mana than me?” the mercenary asked, chuckling a bit at the notion.

“No, you idiot. It means I can’t blow you up, because you have no mana. Your body does not contain mana, nor can it ever attain mana. Not just your body, your entire world apparently.” she pointed at his metal arm.

“Your metal, even your clothes do not have any mana. It is simply not something that constitutes the world you come from. So, you’re immune to it because no one can force resonance on something that doesn’t exist.” Sheela mumbled more to herself at this point, as if checking her own theory for any holes.

“So, I’ll never become a wizard?” Solon asked, trying not to laugh.

She looked at him and waved her hand dismissively at his joke, before leaning over.

“If you are immune to magic, how were you teleported all the way to my desert temple?”

“Well, I wasn’t teleported per say. The spell wasn’t cast on me. An elf called Lymlock actually opened a small portal behind me, then another of the pointy eared bastards drop kicked me through it.” the soldier explained bitterly while Sheela grinned.

“You could have just shot them.” she pointed out.

“Your arm is also a weapon, right? And you have a gun on your hip.”

Sheela stopped for a moment, thinking back on the events in the gladiatorial arena.

“Come to think of it, you’ve threatened to shoot me multiple times, yet I’ve never seen you use your weapons a single time.”

“Truth be told, I ran out of ammo. This arm can only hold 4 shots, as a last resort in case I don’t have time to reload my main weapon or sidearm. Lost my rifle that night against the elves, and my sidearm I didn’t get a chance to reload, because the fight went from a gunfight to a melee pretty quickly.” Solon confessed, his lip quivering in an attempt to prevent a grin from spreading due to how furious Sheela looked when told the truth.

The witch was furious indeed. Despite her high and mighty behaviour, she was mortal ever since Solon freed her. And he was immune to her magic, which still hasn’t fully returned to its peak. She always kept a warning in the back of her mind, that if Solon wanted to shoot her dead, he would not struggle too hard to do it. To think he was so boldly lying to her face, making sure to keep her in check with empty threats; her pride could not allow such transgression.

“Yeah, those elves sure are sneaky fuckers. Especially at night, on their turf. They isolated me from my squad and jumped me from all angles.” Solon continued, but he didn’t care much about what he was saying, because he knew Sheela wasn’t listening anymore.

She was just glaring at him, her golden eyes staring daggers while illuminated by the fire.

“You dick. Hm! My magic was too good for you anyways. When I kill you, it will be by dropping a big rock on your already dented head.” the witch hissed, getting up from the ground, not breaking eye contact with the soldier for even a moment.

“Will you be lifting it with magic or will you be using those dainty arms to do it?” the mercenary was grinning ear to ear at this point, shoulders trembling from laughter he was fighting back.

Sheela climbed into the wagon without another word. She simply snapped her fingers, causing the still spinning pillar of flame to collapse in on itself, putting out the fire and also covering Solon with smoke and soot. Solon’s coughing was just the satisfying sound she needed to drift off to sleep, as she laid next to Zeg’.