No matter what world you happen to be in, waking up to the sound of paper tearing is a uniquely disquieting way to wake. Barely even audible, if Nick wasn’t so on edge he probably wouldn’t have heard it over the sounds of the waterfall in the valley outside the cave. His eyes snapped open and he blinked them furiously to clear the sleep from them. His endeavor wasn’t aided at all by the fact that the sun had set at some point during his unexpected nap. Slowly they adjusted to the darkness and took in the sight before him. Slightly glowing eyes looked back at him, while the mouth that accompanied them slowly chewed what appeared to be the remains of his newly acquired grimoire. The pamphlet he had been reading was nowhere to be seen. What appeared to be an entirely unapologetic scaled cat-ferret hybrid sat in front of him with scraps of leather and paper around it. Horror mounted in Nick as he pushed himself off the wall and scrambled towards the grisly murder scene of likely his only lifeline.
Unlike what one would generally expect with wildlife, the cat-ferret lizard didn’t leap backwards at Nick’s sudden movement. Quite the opposite, actually. Somehow projecting an air of consternation, the creature leaped forward and headbutted Nick directly, somehow completely stopping his forward momentum despite not having nearly the same amount of mass. Nick sat back on his ass, stunned for a moment. The animal returned to sedately chewing the only thing he had to his name. As he made to move toward it again, a clear voice rang out.
“Please don’t.”
Nick’s head whipped toward the entrance of the cave. Someone had spoken. Another person. He could almost weep from relief. Despite how he strained his eyes, he didn’t see anything. Because of the night outside he couldn’t make out much, but he would swear that there wasn’t anyone there. Still his eyes searched, desperate to make out any movement on the dark blue-gray background. Nothing.
“Must’ve been the wind.” He muttered darkly to himself, turning back to his grimoire eating nemesis, starting to move towards it.
“Seriously. Don’t. I didn’t think I headbutted you that hard. Also you have to be a lot more important than you to get the wind to speak,” the same clear voice said. Nick froze his tracks. This couldn’t be happening.
“You?” Nick asked, horrified, making direct eye contact with whatever it was.
“Me,” it replied, sounding almost bored. Nick considered this for a moment. This was too much. He finally stopped being able to handle the absurdities being thrown at him. A new world, magic, and a talking lizard-cat-ferret thing. He was down for the count.
“Fuck me,” he said.
“At least buy me dinner first... although I suppose you kind of did.” it said. It had a sense of humor. Great. A shit sense of humor, but it was definitely there. How on God’s green earth could this be possible? It didn’t help that as soon as he thought that he realized that he was almost assuredly not on God’s green earth anymore. He started chuckling to himself, and before he knew it he was almost howling from laughter, clutching his stomach.
“Oh no...,” it said, it’s voice tinged with worry, “I think I broke you...”
It stopped chewing the paper and peered at him. Nick’s laughter continued.
“Now look,” it began, “I know what you’ve been through, but -”
Nick stopped laughing.
“How? How could you possibly know what I’ve been through? How could you know anything at all? What even are you?” He snarled at it, barely pausing between questions.
“Well,” it hedged, “you don’t really guard your thoughts that well. Or your memories. Or yourself really. I mean sleeping in a forest? Really? And then a strange cave? Come on, man.”
“Fuck you,” he said.
“Eat shit. You don’t guard anything in your head. Anyone with a modicum of skill within a kilometer knows what you’ve been through. And I am beginning to see why that emotional lock was in place and I regret removing it. In my defense, I was only just beginning to reach sentience. What a ride that is by the way.”
“What does that even mean?” Nick was simultaneously confused, thankful, furious and panicky. The whirlwind of emotions was making him physically nauseous, and he actually gagged a little.
“Yeah definitely should’ve let that fade on it’s own,” the creature continued, “I’m what you’d call a draig. My kind doesn’t reach sentience until a significant amount of mana is consumed. Thank you for that by the way.”
“I’ve never heard of a draig,” Nick said. The way the creature said it was strange, though the way it said anything was. Drige? What the hell was a drige?
“Are you sure? Because I’m fairly sure that’s your word for it. No? Strange. But unimportant. That’s what I am and that’s how we’re having this conversation. Sentience comes with telepathy for the draig.”
“How do you have a personality then?” Nick asked.
“Really? That’s the question you’re going with? Anything you could ask and you go with that? Nevermind. Put simply: you. And the grimoire, I suppose. It’s previous owner was a fairly prolific journalist; a real consistent writer that one. Unlike someone I could mention. That journaling formed the basis, then my instincts and your clearer memories filled in the rest.”
A talking animal had just insulted his hobbies. This was probably a new low for Nick. Barring knocking himself out on a tree.
“Why are you such a dick?” Nick asked.
“Your clearer memories filled in the rest,” the draig responded, wryly. It shuffled around a bit before settling down on its haunches and curling around itself, eyes fixated on his. Nick took a deep breath.
“You ate my grimoire.” Nick said, simply, “I needed that.”
“I did. I am sorry for that, Nicholas. Baser animal instincts and all that. I really couldn’t help myself. Like actually couldn’t. I didn’t really exist as an ego until a little while ago. But draig always honor their debts and I owe you. More than you know,” the draig shifted, looking distinctly uncomfortable and guilty.
“And my pamphlet.”
“I was hungry,” it huffed. Nick considered that. So was he. Starving actually. The berries from the day before had hardly been filling, even if they had kept him going. He wasn’t even certain how long it had been since he had had a full meal. As if thinking about it made his body remember, a loud growl sounded out from his stomach. He placed a hand over it. The draig noticed and got up.
“Stay there, I’ll get you something to eat. It’s the least I can do.”
Before Nick could respond it bounded out of the cave leaving him alone again. He sat back against the wall and stared off into space. His mind was having trouble processing everything and this time he was fairly certain it was shock setting in. He rubbed his face with both hands and then ran his left through his hair. It was a nervous habit he had adopted in college whenever he had to study for finals. Harmless enough, it did leave him often looking like a mad scientist who had been electrocuted. He hated it, but not enough to put effort into breaking the habit. He didn’t know how long he stared at that cave wall, but it wasn’t long before the draig ran back in, carrying a medium sized fish in it’s mouth. It set the fish in front of him, then backed up a few paces. Nick looked at the fish, then the draig, then back at the fish.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Well? Eat up,” the draig said.
“It’s not cooked.”
“Then start a fire and cook it. I can’t do everything for you.”
“I have no tools or even the knowledge of how to start a fire without a lighter or a match,” Nick said, raising his voice over the rumbling coming from his stomach. The sight of food seemed to have sent his hunger into overdrive.
“What do you mean?” the draig asked, sounding genuinely confused at his predicament, “you’re a weaver. Weave a fire up.”
“I’m a what?”
“A weaver, numbnuts. A user of the strands of mana,” the draig said exasperatedly.
“Ahhh that. Well, you see, a draig I happen to know ate my only guidebook on how to use mana. I have no idea what strands even are.”
“You liar! You said I was the only draig - oh... oh wait,” the draig looked back at the scraps of paper, “the pamphlet.”
“The pamphlet,” Nick agreed, nodding.
“Well surely it can’t be that hard.”
“I wouldn’t know.” They both sat in silence for a few moments at that. Nick stared longingly at the fish. Normally he didn’t really care for it, but right now? Right now it looked like the best dish in the world.
“I can teach you!” the draig shouted suddenly into his mind and leapt to its feet.
“What?”
“I can teach you and help you find a new grimoire. That’s how I’ll pay my debt to you.” Nick probably would’ve taken that offer more seriously, if it hadn’t started chasing its own tail like an excited puppy.
“You still aren’t guarding your thoughts,” the draig stopped and looked at him. Nick had the wherewithal and grace to look chagrined. “Seriously Nicholas, let me do this. I need to repay you. Draig always honor their debts.”
Well it wasn’t like he had another choice.
“Where do we begin?” he asked.
------
Well over an hour later, both Nick and the draig were frustrated beyond belief, the latter probably moreso. Apparently the first step to using mana was finding his mana core, whatever that was. The draig had described as a small ball of transcendent energy near the center of his being, whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean. Finding it should have been simple. He should have been able to simply turn his sight inward, and it was supposed to be right there, in plain sight and easy to find. Between the hunger and emotional shock, Nick was having significant trouble doing that. He had never been an overly introspective type and the constant needling of the draig was certainly not helping the matter.
“How can it be this hard for you to sense your core? According to his journal, Mage Llynin had found his within minutes of searching for it the first time he tried. Are you stupid? I don’t know many humans but this seems like a uniquely you problem.”
“You only know two humans, you ferret, and one of them is a dead guy whose diary you read,” Nick snapped at the draig. It hissed at him.
“I am a Draig. Never call me that again. I should eat the fish and leave you to starve.”
At the thought of losing his food, sincere rage flared in Nick’s gut and he almost made to lunge at the draig but then he felt it and froze. There. Almost hidden by the hunger pains, but revealed by the anger. A small ball of something, that was him but not quite him. Just below his solar plexus. As soon as he had located it, he wondered how he had been missing it. It was so obvious, almost glaringly so. It was like remembering the word that had been at the tip of your tongue for days or figuring out what food it was exactly that you were craving so desperately.
“I have it,” he whispered, as if fearing noise would cause him to lose his newfound awareness of his core. The draig stilled at this news before speaking.
“Amazing! Now simply grab a small sliver of your mana, nothing too large now, you don’t want to injure yourself, and direct your intent at it. You need to be focused. Create a small flame above and not in your hand.”
Nick began to think about the instructions, and then stopped himself. If he thought a little, he’d overthink and get in his own way. He needed to just do. Mostly because he needed to eat. He stretched internal muscles he didn’t know he had and reached his will towards his mana. It felt slippery; intangible and energized. Once he had a firm grasp on it he envisioned a small flame above his palm.
The mana resisted him at first, so he pushed harder. He refined the image in his mind and pushed at the mana again; something clicked. A small flame flickered into being above his palm, he could feel his mana draining, and the notifications followed swiftly afterward.
----
Congratulations! You have discovered the weave of: Fire (Minor)!
The weave of fire is again one of the basic weaves and again this is due to its nearly infinite combat and utility value. Mastery of fire has led many a mage down the road to fire.
Congratulations! You have discovered the weft of: Emit (Minor)!
This basic weft allows the summoning of basic weaves in small areas within half a meter of the mage.
Congratulations, Novice! You have unlocked the archetype of Pyromancer!
The sheer destructive power of the Pyromancer is unmatched on the magical battlefield. Their enemies cower and soil themselves, while their allies are awed and inspired. The Pyromancer bends fire to their will and commands it without peer. None can stand against the fury of a Pyromancer skilled with their power.
----
As the last of the notifications phased into existence, the draig suddenly let out a hiss. It stared into the space where the notification was hanging as if it could see it. Startled by the sudden anger of the creature, Nick let the flame sputter out.
“Can you see my notifications?” Nick asked it curiously.
“Reject that right now,” the draig spat, still focused with a startling intensity on the notification.
“Why?”
“It is not offered in good faith. I can’t see what it says but I can see that much. There is an energy to it, a maliciousness that cannot be hidden. Reject it now.”
Nick rejected the notification without a second thought.
----
Beware Novice.
You have rejected the third archetype offered to you. These opportunities are limited and each rejected opportunity reduces your chances of survival significantly. You have 1/4 opportunities remaining. Think before you reject the next offer that comes your way. There will be consequences should you continue this course.
----
This time, with the warning, came a searing pain that ripped through Nick. He didn’t even have time to cry out before the pain seized his muscles and paralyzed him. He had never felt such complete agony. It was like someone had lit every single one of his nerves on fire and then poured lemon juice on the wounds. It was vicious. As quickly as it came, it was over, and he was left gasping for the air that had been forced out of his lungs at the onset.
“What the fuck was that?” Nick panted. He was near delirium. The pain, the hunger, the emotions; it was all too much. He could feel himself fraying at the edges. Fucking hell, he missed the emotional block. He tried not to resent the draig to much for removing it.
“It was wrong. Peace, Nicholas. Wait a moment and I’ll be back.”
Nick closed his eyes and tried to catch his breath. A short while later he heard rustling. When he opened his eyes, he say the draig pulling an incongruous amount of kindling and larger branches for such a small being into the cave. While he wondered how the draig managed it, he watched as the draig nudged, pushed, and prodded various pieces into place to create the basis of a fire.
“Light the fire Nicholas. I will cook the fish while you rest and recover.”
Too tired to argue, Nick did as asked. It took him a while but somehow he managed to seize upon his mana again and force it through the Emit and Fire weft and weave, starting a small flare on his hand. He stuck his hand in the arranged wood and within seconds a small blaze had begun. Apparently the draig had campfire skills that would make some Boy Scouts jealous. Another impossibility.
“Rest now, Nicholas. I will wake you when it’s ready.”
Later, when asked, the draig would say that Nick was asleep before his eyes even closed.
------
“Wake now, Nicholas, you must eat.” When his words weren’t sufficient, the draig nudged the sleeping nascent weaver. Nicholas stirred and started in on the fish barely taking the time to breathe. Thankfully the draig had scaled and deboned it sufficiently so the fool wouldn’t choke. In less than five minutes, Nick had finished the fish, all without ever waking completely. He quickly returned to a deep, dreamless sleep. The draig studied his sleeping form for a while before fixing it’s gaze at the mouth of the cave. He would maintain guard over this sleeping human, even as the fire died to embers next to him. No harm would befall Nicholas Strand this night. After all, draig always honor their debts.