To avail himself of any more surprise additions to their party, John made a mental note of how many cars were in their small dirt lot. There were five according to his count, which meant one to two groups were still out there in the woods. Likely confused about their state of affairs and returning at this very moment.

The two remaining cars were empty four seater sedans, which meant that there were anywhere from two to ten more people barring some extra dubious driving circumstances. A willing group could always fit a fifth person in a middle seat, but never a sixth.

As for his current group, there was himself, Luna, Tim, an old hunter named Charlie, and two teens who, foolishly or luckily, left their radio and AC on when they fell asleep last night watching the stars.

The girl said her name was Melanie Brine, and the twig-like boy said his name was ‘Just Sam’. He wasn’t about to ask, but he mentally ticked them off as an item. Both had a hard time believing a word he was saying, but luckily they didn’t know what was going on either and took what he said with a grain of salt.

They all got along swimmingly when he told them their cars had likely turned into multi-ton explosive devices, citing the now-cooling pool of hellfire not too far from their location. Charlie backed him up on that one, and it seemed the kids’ distrust of adults ultimately didn’t outweigh impressive circumstantial evidence.

For what it was worth, Tim didn’t antagonize any of the new additions either. He had apparently found better things to do in the sky, likely recalculating plans John had yet to hear based on their new circumstances.

John admitted that that wasn’t completely true as he gazed at his daughter. She was still absorbed in the first steps of the ‘cultivation method’ Tim had drummed up, which John was beginning to fear may have been some kind of trap.

There wasn’t much he could do about it now though, so he waved the intrusive thought away. Not that Tim would have told him it was a trap if he asked regardless.

With that out of the way, John really wanted to rest.

Unfortunately, the incident with the gun made his car feel like a veritable death trap, and he wasn’t about to trust three strangers with both his and his daughter’s less-than-conscious bodies. Rest would have to wait.

Instead, he decided to get to planning out how to solve their three biggest concerns. Food, water, and shelter. Of the three issues, food and shelter would require an organized team effort at some point so he shelved them for now as everyone took stock of their own circumstances.

The lack of food was making itself known, however, as a gnawing bit in his stomach had been growing ever more annoying. None of them had much more than a few snacks on hand, but John hoped a discussion with the old hunter could shed a positive light on that front.

As far as shelter went, if they were going to be stuck in the woods for however long it took them to figure out a way back to civilization, he didn’t want to spend rainy days soaking wet. The cars might be serviceable in the short-term, but they would need a non-explosive solution eventually.

Of the three, water was the only non-immediate problem that would soon become their foremost immediate problem. They had some bottled water to hold them over in the interim, but after that they would have to find another source.

It was John’s personal hope to solve that problem with magic, with or out without any space fairy guidance.

His previous experiment with fire had him curious as to whether he could create water as he had flames, and he soon fetched an empty bottle from his car. If he could make water, it would be important to bottle it.

And it just so happened that he had an excellent test-site for his next slew of magic tests, one which was already horribly deformed and wouldn’t be hurting anyone if he ruined some more.

He sat his daughter down about thirty feet away from the blasted zone while he searched for another straight-ish stick. After his last experiment, it was clear that quality materials would be important if he wanted to use them as a focus of his newfound powers.

In the middle of nowhere as they were, he would have to make do with what was at hand. Besides, the brittle branches made for an easy benchmark for his first spells. If the branch survived the spellcasting, he would for now consider it a success.

He shortly managed to find another suitable ‘wand’ lying on the ground and began making his way over to the cooling lava pit. It was considerably less hot than before, but his skin still reddened from the dry heat that radiated menacingly.

If his next spell worked, the semi-molten slush would harden into dirt again. Or stone. John wasn’t really sure what it was made of, but that didn’t change much.

He held his stick aloft with his good hand and pointed it at his target, remembering that even if his candle spell was a bit… large, it still ejected energy out from one end.

John closed his eyes and tried to replicate the same sensation of pushing himself into the wand he had managed before. His goal was to manifest a ball of water on the far end of the stick. When he felt whatever it was that manifested the flames stir within him again, he felt like he was getting a handle on this magic thing.

When the energy entered the stick and turned it into a brackish sludge that gooped through his hand like a cracked egg, John frowned. He flicked the stick remnants from his hand and they scattered into the lava pit with a sizzle.

He obviously did something wrong, but he wasn’t sure what.

With the effective fireball John had managed earlier, he had frustratedly pushed what he assumed were divine energies into the stick with a strong desire for heat, light, and shape. What he got was close enough to his desired effect that he thought it would be easy.

Now, he began to realize that things might be harder than they seemed. John spent a minute gathering a few promising sticks, now wary of the likelihood that they were one-time use items.

As he did, he pondered what he did differently. He was a lot less specific with his intentions when he attempted to conjure the water, which he was pretty certain now was an important aspect of shaping the divine energy.

To that end, he took a moment trying to clearly picture what he wanted. It was easy with the fire. Burning heat, warm lights, and flickering shape were all such strong defining characteristics. For water, John wasn’t too sure.

Was he supposed to imagine the water like a flowing river, or a forest spring? Like a waterfall or an ocean? Smooth like glass, or rippling with undercurrents and power? He wasn’t sure what would work, but luckily for John he had all day.

Ultimately, he decided on something simple. An expression of water that he was intimately close to, as he interacted with it every day. It was the simple, purified stream of water from a fridge filter. Fresh, cool, and clean. Filtered and sifted of all contaminants into a steady, calm trickle that would fill a cup painfully slowly.

John took a deep breath as he tried coaxing the smallest bit of energy from his body into motion. It wasn’t a clear process, and John was again reminded of the extra limb analogy he had pictured earlier. With an attempted flex of his will, he felt a wavering sensation slowly awaken inside of him, alongside the warmth he felt previously.

Only this time, instead of the aggressive rush that imploded his spell previously, the energies bent with his will into a steady trickle. A smooth yet miniscule flow of energy filled the stick, and this time he witnessed something extraordinary that his previous attempt had missed.

While it wouldn’t be correct to say that the stick came back to life, he felt it’s bark soften in his palm as the rigid stick regained some of its flexibility. Neat, but not his purpose.

John refocused his will to the idea of a constant stream of water from a fridge tap expelling purified waters gently. As he did so, a small drop of sap-like liquid coalesced on the end of his stick. Then another. Then, enough began collating that a tiny yet steady trickle occurred.

He had no idea if the liquid substance was drinkable or not and had no idea where his attempt at fresh clean water had gone.

Regardless, John allowed the tiny stream of watered down sap to enter his bottle. At least, he tried to. He would have facepalmed if he had the second hand to do it, which was his problem.

The bottle was capped, and his only good hand was channeling the sappy magic. Observing it on the ground would have to do, he supposed.

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It was important for him to find out how permanent his magic was, as drinking water that would soon vanish would be utterly stupid. If it was even water.

When he felt that he had enough to study, John gently tried to push a little more energy into the stick as a matter of science.

His actions caused a brief lapse in the liquid before a rush of energy left his body in a lesser, yet remarkably similar way to his previous attempt. The slow gathering of droplets turned into a deluge of much more watery sap that blasted the stick from his hand and straight towards his face.

He ducked, but not in time to dodge as the stick bounced painfully off his forehead. As it launched away, it sprayed him with a garden hose thick beam of vaguely sticky water that nearly left welts on his skin.

Now soaked and supremely uncomfortable, John felt his hundredth sigh of the day build upon his lips. If that small of a prodding threw his spell of so drastically, control was going to be a problem.

It was like trying to pick up a wine glass if your grip strength had exponentially increased. Maybe he could force his hand to be stiff beforehand and roughly lift the glass that way, but if he tried to change his grip in the lightest the thing would instantly shatter.

It was a troublesome revelation.

He took solace in the fact that he had managed to somewhat manifest the original intention of the spell though. It was very slow, however, and the process of gaining control was something he didn’t really understand.

That meant that even if he figured out why the divine energy wasn’t doing exactly what he wanted, it was going to take a lot of practice to make his rudimentary attempts at magic quick and accurate.

Considering the potential danger in his near-future, that was bad.

“Well, that sucks.” John kicked one of the uglier sticks from his collection into the still burning pit.

“I thought it was pretty cool.” A voice from behind him called out over the whooshing noise of the stick alighting in flame. John turned around to see that he had gained some spectators, namely a pair of wide-eyed highschoolers that stood about two dozen feet away.

The boy, ‘Just Sam’, was the one who spoke. He was staring at him with an intensity that John found rather uncomfortable. Unlike the girl, who John thought was unlikely the trouble Tim’s analysis claimed, the boy had succeeded in unnerving him with the avaricious look in his eyes.

Now that, he mused, looked like trouble..

“Maybe.” John stated, switching his focus to the girl. When she flinched back slightly, John couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh come on, I won’t bite.” When neither showed any improved reaction, he shrugged and picked up another stick.

Sam looked to his girlfriend, who stared back at him with the same wide-eyed expression as before. She seemed to be eager to end their conversation at that, but the boy shook his head and pressed on.

“So John,” the boy less than half his age began without a hint of decorum, “want to explain the whole magic thing or are you gonna keep it for yourself?” His voice carried a hint of obstinance.

Oh, so that’s what this was about.

Sam was probably thinking that he was just another old guy with power or money. He hoped that meant he would maintain an upper hand in conversation despite the boy’s clear distrust. Not that he was afraid of being out-worded by a kid.

Obviously, he couldn’t try to teach them his method of sci-fi fuckery. Tim’s warning of probable self-implosion was enough for him, but whether they believed that or not was up for debate.

They were afraid of him, or at least Melanie was, so hopefully they wouldn’t try anything weird like threatening his daughter to get their magic lessons.

If they did, maybe he’d be a little more forthcoming.

“Not right now, no. You’ll have to trust me when I tell you Tim would teach you better than I, and this,” he gestured behind him, “is pretty telling of what a lack of knowledge can do.”

The boy continued to stare him down, weighing the validity of his words with his misguided perception of adults. Eventually, he shrugged. “Fine, whatever. I’ll just watch you then.” He grabbed Melanie by the hand and led the two of them to a fallen tree off to the side.

As they walked, John thought he could hear the boy mumble something about it probably not being that hard.

Oh, if only he knew. He probably never would though, since he’d have a nice cultivation manual or whatever to teach him and everything.

Before he continued, John opened the empty water bottle and sat it on the ground before him for future tests. No reason to repeat the same mistakes after all. New wand in hand, John first decided to revisit the candle spell with his newfound knowledge.

It was the closest he got to what he wanted despite using way too much energy the first time, so he hoped this second attempt would be easier.

He tried coaxing the smallest possible amount of energy from his body, which brought with it a small warmth and internal rippling as it was guided into the wand. He made sure to impress upon the energy it’s intended form, doing his best to fumblingly guide its travel to the end of the stick.

It burst out in a few places where his concentration wavered and tiny red embers began to glow on the wood’s surface. John decisively ignored the growing heat in his palm as the energy made its way to the end of his stick. When it had traveled about five inches from his hand, his concentration slipped and a small flame burst from the side.

The sudden open flame startled him and he frantically tried to reduce the flow of energy. That turned out to be a huge mistake as his tenuous reign on his energies was lost.

Another gout of flame overtook the tiny outcropping, and similar seams burst along the edge of the stick.

John hurriedly threw the stick into the fire pit. The remaining energies within the thin wood consumed it in a small ball of fire before it could even land. At least it was more tame this time, John mused as he raised his hand to wipe the hair from his face.

As enraptured he was in his third failure of the day, he barely noticed the small ball of flame that rested in his palm before it could make contact with his forehead. He jerked his hand away from him and his will responded, resulting in a lash of flame that expanded over the fire pit for a few feet before he could stop his energy from exiting his body.

John blinked rapidly. That was… different. He had no more control over it than before, but without trying to use the stick as a medium, the process was a lot simpler. More effective as well. Maybe even safer?

John looked down at his bundle of sticks sadly.

Was the magic of the multiverse, or rather the way he was using it specifically, not suited for wands? What about staves or crystal balls? His ideal image of a wizard was quickly fading away, and with it, his energy waned. It was time for a breather.

An appreciative whistle from above caught his attention, and John belatedly noticed that he had gained a third observer at some point. Tim flew downwards, eliciting a mumbled conversation between Melanie and Sam that he couldn’t make out.

“Heya Tim. Have anything to add?” John’s voice came out more harried than he thought it would, yet another testament to his growing exhaustion.

“Nope! Uncharted territory and all that. Though I think abandoning the stick was a good idea. How you ever expected such lowly things to handle the influx of divine energy is beyond me.” With the return of Tim’s backhanded compliments, John felt fatigue spread throughout his body again.

What was it about the floating ball of sarcasm that always tired him out?

“Then why didn’t you enlighten me, o dazzling one?” John asked with a stifled yawn.

“Curiosity? Yeah, something like that! Anywho, listen here pal. Since we go way back, I’ll let you in on a little secret. When multiverse beings such as yourself exert too much energy, they experience what we used to call Drain. Not sure what it's called now. Regardless, without proper training, it can be really hard to notice it creeping up on you!”

“What are you— oh.” The fatigue that had been invading him suddenly spiked, and John had to catch his head as his world seemed to lurch forward drastically.

“There it is! I was wondering when you would run out.” Out of his vision, Tim mimed John’s forward lurch mockingly.

“What the, what’s going on?” He stumbled away from the fire pit that threatened to swallow his wavering body whole. At least he tried to, but his swimming vision landed his foot the wrong way and he tripped over himself.

“Woah there!” Tim fluttered himself underneath John’s torso to keep him from falling anywhere near the pit. “That’s Drain, buddy. D r a i n. And no swimming in the lava pool under the influence. How about you go take a nap with your daughter?”

For the first time since they had met, John was feeling the physical manifestation of light that was Tim. He was surprised to find it was soft and vaguely warm, not unlike an actual flesh and blood animal.

In the wake of his intense tiredness, John remembered their conversation hours ago when he was forced to make three trips to carry all of his things back to the car.

“I thought you said you couldn’t carry anything,” he said sourly.

“Shush” Tim hushed him as he supported much of his weight, with only John’s legs pushing them forward. “I’m guiding you, okay? Guiding. It’s literally the name of the job.”

“Asshole.”

“Meat head.”

His supporting orb’s response came quickly as ever, but they both remained silent after that. When Tim lowered him to the ground beside Luna with much more grace than he would have expected, John started to feel a little bad again.

Sure, this was kind of a life or death situation and yes, the guide had been a pretentious prick, but John hadn’t exactly acted the saint by comparison. He let out a sigh that was half gratefulness to the ground, and half reluctant acceptance.

It was time to let bygones be bygones.

“Thank you, Tim. And I’m sorry for earlier.” Though his eyes were closed, John could imagine he heard the little fairy jump a little bit from the suddenly extended olive-branch.

He really hadn’t been nice to Tim since they first spoke to one another, and even then it was little more than a little politeness. It had barely even lasted a few exchanges.

“What? Oh that contract thing? Well, I was supposed to offer that to you when the twelve hours were up anyway, so it wasn’t that big of a big deal.” Tim’s cheery voice resounded even in his darkened world.

Oh.

Any sympathy John had been gathering for the damn fairy was quickly thrown out the metaphorical window.

“Hey Tim?” John asked as he began to lose his grip on consciousness.

“Yeah pal?” The fairy’s voice had taken on a more amenable tone when he recognized John’s apology was heartfelt.

“Fuck you.” At that, John’s world truly faded away as he let the throes of Drain and physical exhaustion ferry him to sleep with a light grin on his face.