Seeking Arrow: Conjure a powerful bow with your mana to strike your enemies from far away. You are considered to be proficient with the conjured weapon, which can fire four spectral arrows. Each arrow does 2d8 force damage. Casting this spell at higher levels grants one additional arrow per level.

My second spell. The hunting trip had been a success, not to mention a good deal of fun. The hunter, who later introduced himself as Miel Firefang, was a long-time guest of the Wild Mages camp. He’d even earned himself that nickname for his skill with long-ranged fire magic. I knew that an outsider could, at rare times, earn the respect of the Wild Mages, and would be given a nickname.

“How long have you been here then?” I’d asked him as I packed away the venison he’d also given me as a gift. “Not every day that an outsider gets an honorary Wild Mage name.”

Miel let out a laugh at that. “That’s true, lad. It took me nearly thirty years. But they’ve taught me loads, and it’s nicer out here away from all the city folk and the like.”

It was a common reason that most people who lived in Zaban chose it. Well, outside the elves that were born and raised here. If you got tired of city life but didn’t want to take to the roads like a Warden, you lived in one of the many communes of Zaban. Or if you were lucky or skilled enough, the Wild Mage’s camp.

I was impressed by Miel, though I wouldn’t say it aloud. The dedication it took to stay so long in a chaotic place like the Wild Mage camp was more than I could offer. I liked the peace and quiet of nature, no doubt, but I couldn’t stay inside the camp forever. There were more magicks to learn within cities and mage colleges than the Wild Mages owned. They just happened to have more exotic varieties of magic than most others.

“Take care of yourself, lad,” Miel said, shaking my hand before he departed. “If you’re around next week, there might be another big hunt you can take part in.”

“If I’m still here, I’ll take you up on that,” I promised. “Oh, that reminds me. This is yours.”

I began to unsling the bow and quiver he’d given me from my back, but he stopped me with a dismissive wave. “Keep it. It ain’t my best work, but I don’t need it no longer.”

I paused, my hand still on the strap of the quiver. “You sure? I can’t just be taking such a nice gift. I’m not one for charity.”

Miel let out a laugh again, but he was already taking a step back. “Well, you’ll have to get over this one. Just remember me when ya shoot it.”

I shook my head, smiling. “Will do Miel. Fair travels and a safe road for you, my friend.”

He threw a parting wave over his shoulder as he left. Then, when he was just barely out of earshot, he paused and looked back. “Y’know, that spell you just learned…”

“What about it?”

He shook his head. “Never mind, lad. Some mysteries are best solved alone.”

And without another word, he was strolling away. I followed him with my eyes until he was out of sight, then got back to stuffing my rucksack. I was nearly finished with it when Gogo appeared out of nowhere. Their forehead was beaded with sweat and their chest was heaving, but they seemed extraordinarily pleased with themselves.

“I think I finally got the hang of that damned burrowing spell,” they told me brightly. “You’re not leaving already, are you? We’d just started getting to know each other!”

“No, not quite yet,” I muttered. “Just putting away some stuff.”

“I see you finally got a pack,” they noted. “Good on you, too. Hard to carry all that meat without one.”

“How’d you know about that?”

Gogo rolled his eyes and pointed to his nose. “I’m a Beast-kin, remember? My senses are sharper than yours. Hope you were planning on sharing.”

“Of course,” I said easily. “I think you’ll like my cooking. I’m quite good.”

Cooking is one of the many life skills in Ahya. Would you like a tutorial in life skills?

The words appeared in front of my eyes without warning. Thankfully, it wasn’t too big of a surprise. Gogo was grinning at me. “You’re quite confident. I’ll see if you measure up.”

They moved away as someone called to them, and I redirected my attention to the words in front of me and thought ‘yes’. At once, the words vanished, and more took their place.

Life skills in Ahya are a direct compliment to combat, allowing you to develop and master skills outside of fighting. Some life skills, such as Alchemy and Blacksmithing, even contribute to combat directly through the creation of potions, poisons, and weapons.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

You start with no proficiencies in any of the life skills, but each attempt to create something or work in a life skill increases your mastery of that individual life skill. Eventually, you’ll gain feats directly related to that life skill, which will make actions easier or more reliable.

There are many life skills for you to discover in Ahya. Each discovery will add the life skill to your character sheet.

[Hunting] has been added to your life skills!

[Cooking] has been added to your life skills!

Your [Hunting] life skill has been increased to Apprentice. You may add your proficiency bonus to any hunting check made in the future! In addition, you are now proficient with all hunting tools!

Sometimes, I thought, this system tended to explain things in a very long way, when a few simple words would have sufficed. But it had done the job of explaining well enough. So I wouldn’t be a good chef right off the bat, then. That would come with time and practice. Just like real life.

I was at a loss for what to do next. I hadn’t even been in Ahya for a full twenty-four hours, and I was already exhausted, as though I’d been moving around for days. But of course, an Ahyan day was thirty hours long. It was well past dark now, and most of the training around me had broken up as the people went about preparing for the night. Some were cooking meals, others were joining friends for a drink.

“So,” Gogo said, reappearing from the crowd and waving farewell to someone, “What’s the plan? I’m just about wiped out myself.”

“Not sure,” I admitted. “Never been to the camp before. Where are we allowed to sleep?”

“Anywhere in the open, someone told me. Or if we can grab a space, there’s that building over there. If we want a roof.”

I glanced up at the sky, checking the weather. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, and I could see the three moons climbing their way to the top of the sky, with stars twinkling all around them. No matter how many times I’d imagined it in my head, seeing more than one moon in the sky was a weird experience. I hadn’t even bothered to notice the sky during the day, where I knew there would be two suns visible, with one being so far as to be no bigger than a penny from our point of view.

“Let’s sleep in the open,” I decided. “I don’t have a tent, but that hardly matters. The weather is quite nice around these parts.”

“Can’t say I disagree with that,” Gogo replied cheerily, taking in a deep breath. “And it smells so much better than the cities.”

I let out a laugh, unable to refuse their logic there. “Outside it is then. But first I’d like to clean up.”

“There’s a bathhouse over there,” Gogo said. “You go first. I’ll watch over our stuff and get a bite to eat, then we’ll switch.”

“Sounds good.”

_______________________________________________________

About an hour later, after we’d both retired for the night and stretched out on the soft grass toward the edge of the camp, I found myself staring up at the moons. I knew they were called Tsuki, Lua, and Buwan, but I couldn’t remember enough of my notes to remember which was which.

“Legend says that each one appeared with the arrival of the races,” Gogo said softly. “Not sure I believe that with how many races there are, though.”

It was true. Tsuki was named for the humans, Lua for the elves, and Buwan for the Ancients. Buwan was the oldest, while the younger twins danced around it in harmony. The same sort of system was in place for the two suns, Araw and Taiyo. Araw, the furthest from the land, was named for the Ancients lost in the first war. They were far away, but not forgotten. I grinned up at the night sky, thinking of how much time I’d sunk into the sun and night skies alone. It was the kind of information I rarely got to show off in a story.

“Nice work, Tuck,” I muttered, speaking to the version of me writing the story. “Looks like you got your chance after all.”

It was almost enough to make me laugh, but I didn’t. Instead, I rolled over onto my stomach, resting my head on my arms, and quickly fell asleep. It was remarkable how different the world around me seemed. And yet, in so many ways it was hauntingly familiar. There was so much of Ahya for me to explore, and I was going to take full advantage of it.

Now, I’m not usually the type to dream. Even when I was in my late teens, I’d spend most of my time unconscious with a blank mind. Either that, or I’d simply not remember them. The point is, dreams were rare because I believed that they held special significance. So the dream I had that night had to have been important, even if I didn’t understand it at the time.

When I opened my eyes, I was standing in a lake. Not as in hip-deep or at the bottom, but literally on the water. The water around me was smooth as glass, with nothing to disturb it. I tried to lift a foot to make a ripple, but my body wouldn’t move, no matter how much effort I put into it. Great. I’d written these kinds of dream sequences all the time and knew that something dramatic would come next.

Sure enough, when I looked up, it was into a pair of massive yellow eyes. They had a dead, rotten look to them. But that hint of decay was nothing to the body of the beast to which it belonged. A behemoth of a wolf, easily thirty feet high, pacing around me in a circle, its eyes never leaving me for an instant.

This one has a strange mind. It feels like the Mother.

That is because it created the Mother. This voice was different. Still ancient and full of power, but lacking the feeling of hunger that the wolf owned. I knew who it was before it appeared. Indeed, just as the wolf paced out of view in the corner of my vision, another wolf appeared the same size. But its hide was blueish white, and its eyes a piercing green. They were Corruption and Chaos.

“Who are you, primordial?” Corruption asked, not speaking aloud so that I could hear. He had no clue that I could hear the words he’d muttered to Chaos. “How is it that you came to be here?”

“He does not know,” Chaos whispered before I could reply. “He awoke here.”

“But he created the Mother?’ Corruption’s eyes narrowed. “He is too weak. There is no way he is a creator.”

“But he is,” Chaos said with a sinister laugh. “We cannot touch him, for he is our creator as well.”

“Why does he come here if he is creator?”

“Because he needs to experience his creation. To see if changes are needed.

“Can we stop him?”

“We cannot. We can only watch. Watch and enjoy the show.”

“I will stop him.”

“You cannot. But you may try. I, meanwhile, will watch what he does with great interest.”

And before I could think of a reply, let alone say one aloud, the dream had vanished, and I slipped into the murky blackness of my usual sleep. When I awoke, I remembered the dream clear as day. I just hoped it didn’t mean anything because I didn’t have time to waste on grand prophecies and quests.