It's a strange thing, Arren thought, to be surprised at waking up. When he fell asleep, he had known there was a chance he wouldn’t. That the spiders might come for him, in fact he was almost surprised that they hadn't. If he had been able, he would have moved before sleeping, but at the time exhaustion had simply been too much. It seemed to have worked out all right though, he was still alive, although, he still didn’t know where he was.

He was still a bit foggy and somewhat sore from sleeping on the hard ground, but he sat up, his muscles wouldn't get less stiff from lying around. He took his time to survey landscape around him, he hadn't really had the capacity to take it in the night before. Now with the bright light of the rising sun he could see for miles in every direction. His mood was light, in part because of the cloudless skies above him. If nothing else, the weather seemed to favor the start of his journey homewards.

He was standing on an outcropping of rock next to the cave entrance, behind him a mountain stretched to the skies. The warm air spoke of summer, but the peak of the mountain behind him still glistened with snow. Bellow him a wide sloping hill lead to a thick forest of mighty trees. He could see for miles around him in all direction. To the south lay a beautiful verdant valley, rich with the colors of summer, a lake ran through its bottom, radiating peace with its clear azure blue waters. To the west lay sprawling grasslands, in which he could barely make out the indistinct shape of creatures grassing and running. From this distance he couldn't even be sure what they were, horses? Cows? The landscape was beautiful, if not for the single fact that he didn’t recognize any of it, where had he ended up?

Far to the east, past the forest bellow he could see a sprawling city, given its apparent size, even at this distance it must be enormous. The view of it was magnificent, tall spires rose to capture the sky, the rising sun behind it created an almost holy aura. For a while he simply stood there, appreciating the beauty of it, if nothing else he would get to see a new city before heading home, a large one like that was bound to have an airport.

He stood there until his stomach grumbled, making his needs known; he hadn't eaten since before the ritual, and he needed to get something to eat and drink. He longed to explore the distant city, and get home, but while it would serve as a goal for now, he first needed food. Seeing no reason to wait he started the long trek down the mountainside. Hopefully he would find something edible in the forest, or if needed attempt to hunt. The thought of hunting wasn't very appealing though, and for once, he wished that he hadn't grown up in a sea of steel and concrete. Hunting for beef was a lot simpler at a supermarket, especially since he'd hardly ever been in a forest. Then there was the concept of hunting without a weapon, which would be challenging. Maybe he could use his new and improved magic, try creating a fireball, he could see it in his mind; running through the forest with a huge ball of fire chasing some poor animal. It seemed humorous, although the classical fireball from game tended to blow up, which would make it less than ideal. The outcome seemed rather daunting, “Come one, come all! Try Arren’s newest dish, exploded rabbit” The idea did not sound too appealing, not to mention the risk of starting a forest fire. What he really needed was a more effective, less explosive spell. Creating the light globe had been easy enough, how hard could it be to use magic to hunt? He just needed to create a new spell.

Fire obviously wasn't an option though, it was far to destructive, water? No, well ice might work, but eh, it was dry everywhere. Air would just puff up his hair he really didn't need the volume anyway. Earth was the obvious base of the spell, but how the hell did you move it with magic? Luckily, he had no shortage of pebbles to experiment with, so he picked up a few pebbles while walking, now how did you manipulate stone?

The question kept bugging him for over an hour while he was walking. What were the properties of earth and stone? It was hard, unyielding, cold and dry. He felt these were all important aspects, but what was he hoping for here? Stone spikes? Spikes? Spears? He really wish he had a gun, that would make hunting easier, even if he wouldn't be any less squeamish. Bullet though, he looked at the pebbles in his hand, well, maybe?

He found a good spot to sit down, to rest a bit, he was over half way down by now, so he really needed to figure it out. Maybe shooting it with air magic? That seemed a bit unstable, how would you even create a stable push with enough force and precision? Moreover, that was assuming he could even use air, he really didn't know, same for earth though. Clearly, it was time for experimentation. He tried to lift the rock with his mind, but it stayed resolutely in his hand. He wasn't one to give up though, he kept trying, and the rock kept, well, sitting there. It. Was. Extremely. Frustrating. How do you get earth to move? He closed his eyes and tried to mediate, earth, what was earth? For Christ's sakes! He had studied the elements in his wiccan training! Fuck it, be the stone, think like the stone, fluffy new age shit, be the stone, think like the stone, don't rage. This was pointless, okay no words, just feeling, earth beneath his heels. It was really easy to feel the earth, it was practically in his bloodstream considering all the cuts beneath his feet. Note to self: all rituals should be done fully clothed, with shoes and a survival kit in case of accidental teleportation.

At first there was nothing, gradually though, he did feel something. It was like a song, but quiet, like a whisper, he followed it. His mind raced, yet his heart slowed, his body became stiffer, he didn't notice in his fervor to follow the song. His mind left his body behind, the song grew deeper, louder, nearer. He could hear the earth, it was singing. There were no words, not really, but it felt like it was singing a story. Mountains raised and erased, only to rise again, then to ground down to dust once again. An eternal cycle. The music enchanted him, trapped him, he could stay there forever, he was happy, tranquil. He might even have stayed there if not for a sharp pain distracting him. He almost wept as he was pulled back into reality, the song was lost and his shoulder was burning with pain. A crow like bird was pecking at his skin. Reacting on instinct, he slammed his hand into the very surprised crow. The crow that had obviously thought him a corpse was momentarily stunned. The punch sent it reeling of his shoulder onto the ground where he quickly fell on top of it. Grabbing a rock from the ground, he smashed it into the bird’s head until it died. The blood disgusted him; it wasn't a sight he was used to outside nosebleeds. The crows head was mangled, some of its brains were on the ground, it made him feel sick, he even felt guilty. The crow had thought him dead, it wasn't to blame, not really, it must have been hungry, like he was. He would probably have to eat the crow, it didn't sit right with him, but he didn't really have a choice, he was too hungry.

The hypnotic song was almost gone now, but it still whispered its presence from the earth beneath him, although he was somewhat apprehensive about it now. If that crow hadn't stated eating him he might never have woken up. Looking at the mangled crow he felt pity, what an unfair reward for saving him. The song was obviously dangerous if he couldn't resist it. The whole situation underlined how dangerous magic could be, but there would be no teacher, no one would have more experience with this new situation anyway.

He looked back at the carcass of the crow like bird, he didn’t recognize the species, but he wasn’t the most avid bird watcher. He felt sick again, he might become a vegetarian after this, but for now, it was crow meat or starvation. He had to pluck it, something that turned out to be surprisingly hard. It might be because he was, well, weak. What with bookish tendencies and lacking attendance at the gym, he really could use a bit more muscle. It took him nearly an hour before he finished plucking the whole body, that is not counting the break to throw up. The city boy inside him was crying, he might just be crying in general. He hacked of the wings and head with a moderately sharp stone and threw them as far as he could, they didn't have enough meat to bother cooking.

After finishing the gruesome task he had very little appetite, but with the bird cleaned, he just had to roast it, and he logically knew that he was still hungry. Seeing as the trail was severely lacking inn all non-stone based resources he didn’t have anything to cook it with or on, but hopefully he would manage with a bit of creative use of sorcery. He lay the plucked bird on a relatively large, flat stone and sat down beside it. He started out by creating a ball of light like he had the night before, slowly coxing it to generate heat outwards, away from his hands. He coaxed the ball into a fire, and held it over the bird. What a strange sight he must be; barefooted in a black robe, and roasting the somewhat mutilated corpse of a bird with a fireball, yeah, this was not the tale to tell the grandchildren, or anyone, ever. Whether through luck or skill the bird came out quite evenly roasted, even if a bit scorched in certain areas.

Okay, must be luck, Arren thought to himself, he was shit at cooking and he knew it, he often ended up with grilled cheese, or spaghetti for dinner, obviously it wasn’t the mark of a master chef. Half an hour later, having consumed what little meat was on the bird he was slightly less hungry, and reminded of why he wasn't a vegetarian. The meat had been surprisingly juicy and flavorful. He still felt slightly bad for the bird though, but there hadn't been much meat on it, so had there been another, he might have let his stomach overrule his conscience. That said, he wouldn't get less hungry by just sitting there and the guilt of animal murder would have to wait for when he had other options. He simply didn't know enough about plants to be anything but carnivorous at the moment. It was time to move on and the forest with its meat-filled bunnies awaited his hunting skills, which were unfortunately lacking. Also, exploded rabbit still didn't sound appealing, he still needed a hunting spell.

It seemed he would have to risk the earth song again, but maybe not from the actual earth. He picked up a few new pebbles and felt a slight pull from within them, like an echo. The stones, like the earth, were singing. The song was the same one that had entranced him before, but it was much fainter. He also knew that he couldn't dive too deep into it, not at this time at least. This time there might not be a lucky (unlucky) bird nearby to save him. He listened to the song for a while, then slowly he tried drawing it into himself. His heart struck the slow deep beet of the ancient melody, he could feel the stones around him, he understood how to move them now. Force, patience, command, and the knowledge that they could and would listen. When he then commanded the stones to rise, they did, all of them. Commanding them to shot forwards was harder, but still manageable, aiming them however, was not.

Still, success! Bunnies, prepare to meet your doom! He finally had a hunting weapon, one that needed practice though. He gathered more pebbles in his hand and made them all rise again. The stones floated above his hand and he made them move in patterns and shapes, occasionally he would shoot one forwards trying to improve his aim. The practice barely scratched at his mana pool, it took far less than he would have though. Manipulating the stones only took a little of his effort, a hardly noticeable one at that, shooting them used more mana, but hardly much of it. By the time he reached the forest his aim had improved significantly, though he was hardly a master sniper yet.

Truth be told his aim was still rather atrocious, but he was making progress, that's what mattered. The earth song even seemed a bit clearer now that he had listened too it for a while. Thankfully it was still just a whisper of the power he had felt deep in the earth. If it was stronger, he might not have been able to resist its pull, hell he might have dived after it, perhaps loosing himself in its vastness. He wondered idly if the other elements had their own songs as well. It wasn't impossible, he thought, but what could be the source of their song? For water that was an easy question, but what about air or fire? He put the question aside for now, he had arrived at the edge of the forest and though he had been preoccupied with his arcane musings, he suddenly realized that the trees were much larger than they had appeared from the distance. At the edge of the forest they were taller than a two-story house, and these were the small ones. The trees were not just big, they were weird, and varied, even though there were several different types, he couldn’t even recognize one type of tree, which was disconcerting. It might just be that he was terrible at recognizing tree sorts, but they were weird as in, some of the seemed to be glowing ever so faintly. The sight was beautiful, he couldn’t deny that, but …still weird. Not that it mattered, he needed to pass through them no matter how they looked and the forest wouldn't disappear because he willed it.

Slowly, he took his first tentative steps into the woodland. He walked for a while further into the forest until he finally spotted a rabbit, well it looked like a rabbit except it had a small horn. What was with the animals changing? On some level he had expected mana to affect the wildlife, but first the spiders and now this bunny? It was all happening much faster than he had anticipated.

The rabbit just stood there, cute and cuddly nibbling on a leaf. He really wished he didn't have to kill it. He had no choice though, eat or die. He prepared the pebbles he had collected for this assault, seven of them floated above his hand, another twelve rested in the pocket of his robes. His first rock flew out, and it missed horribly. It hadn't even been close to the damn rabbit, instead he had hit a tree, splinting the bark at the impact area. It was admittedly a terrible shot; and it had ruined his “stealth”. That much was obvious because the rabbit, rather than run, turned towards him. It seemed the bunny wasn’t happy with his failed assassination attempt, it was glaring at him. There was no way a fluffy puffball like this should be able to give such a menacing glare, psycho rabbit. It charged him, horn first and with surprising speed. That was not good, not good at all.

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Not his proudest moment, but he had no choice, he ran. While doing so he fired several pebbles at it, but, to his dismay, they all missed. Having fired his seventh rock, he grabbed more from his pocket, unfortunately his stamina was laughable. He had enough mana for a lot more rocks, but he struggled with hitting the damn thing, he wished the damn killer bunny would just lay of him, no harm no foul, right? Apparently not, it kept chasing him as he drew another three rocks from his robe to try again. Two more of his rocks missed, he only had enough rocks for a few more attempts. The damn bunny had reached him though and with an insane determination it stabbed its horn straight into his leg.

Shit, shit, shit, a bunny stuck in his leg, and one rock, great. He fired the last one; the bunny now rather immobile due to its horn being stuck in his foot was an easy and very much stationary target. The lack of distance helped quite a bit as well, it allowed him to hit it through the eye, scoring a deadly hit, thus felling the psycho bunny.

Ah shit, with the adrenalin of the fight ebbing off, he was really starting to feel the pain from the rabbit’s horn. He then shuddered at the thought of what would have happened if he couldn’t kill it. That was far too close, the damn bunny might have killed him if it was just a tiny bit bigger! Magic or not, bunnies are not supposed to be fucking monsters that try to skewer you like a damn kebab. He was almost regretting bringing magic into the world, the psychotic thing was like a less funny bugs bunny, the half immortal little shit. Truth be told, he knew he was the one that kept missing, but blaming the bunny was less embarrassing. Damn that psycho bunny!

Looking around he realized that he had no idea where he was, he had lost all sense of direction running from the damn beast, the only thing that was obvious was that he was now far deeper in the forest. The woods were thicker here, and less light filtered through the canopy above him, hopefully there wouldn't be a lot of monsters here.

Arren grasped the bunny by its now bloodied neck as he pulled the horn out from his leg, holding back a scream as he did so. He tried putting weight on the injured leg and found himself still able to hobble along, but it made the wound bleed even more.  There was nothing for it, the robe had to sacrifice some of its cotton; he tore a strip from his robe to bandage his leg. With a broad stick to apply pressure to the wound, it was soon in serviceable condition, although painful. He needed a doctor to look at it, although at the moment he would settle for the ability to wash the wound, but he didn't even have any water and he was getting thirsty, parched really. Sadly, a doctor would have to wait; it wasn't like he would stumble over one in the woods anyway. Water would hopefully come sooner, there was bound to be streams or pools in the forest, animals had to drink too.

The first objective then would be to skin and prepare the bunny for consumption, he felt a lot better about eating the bunny then the bird, frankly, bunnies weren’t that cute anymore. That's when he realized two things, first, he didn't have a knife to skin the beast, or the knowledge of how to do so properly. Second, his cooking spell was likely set the forest on fire. The objective was clear then, he needed to find a sharp rock to use as a knife, and some more rocks to secure a fire. Right on then, more walking. It really shouldn’t come as a surprise, but walking with a stab wound was an unpleasant experience. Nothing to do for it though, he could only move onwards, or limp along as it were. He moved along for a while through a tight cluster of trees; their massive trunks were amazing, he had never seen such big trees before, and he wondered idly how old such trees must be. These thoughts were immediately forgotten when the woods gave way and opened a meadow.

The sight that met him there was, unpleasant, very much so in fact, though it was strangely curious. The meadow was covered in blood, and parts. Huge furry limbs were everywhere, on the ground and in the trees. Only the presence of a few intact heads allowed him to identify these creatures as some sort of humongous wolves. Most curious however was the little old Woman sitting in the middle of the clearing, knitting.

Arren really couldn't believe his eyes, there, right in front of him was the archetypal little grandma, short, wrinkled and with white curly hair. She would have looked peaceful were it not for the blood-splatter covering her apron. She even had an apron for gods sake, the only thing lacking was a batch of cookies. Then there was the knitting, the needles looked unsuspiciously red considering the surroundings, what kind of Grandma was this?

 “Now deary, it's rude to stare you know, come join me instead!” cried The Old Woman

She even sounded like a grandmother, although her voice resounded oddly in his mind. He continued staring for a moment before he limped towards her. While he was doing his best to avoid the gore, she kept speaking, casually even, as if such scenes where normal.

“Never mind the mess, these rascals just wouldn't leave me alone, even when I told them you were coming. They were really quite rude, so I had to teach them a lesson”.

Arren stopped abruptly, “How would you know I was coming?” he asked.

The Old Woman just looked at him and chuckled, “Of course I knew dearie, although you sure took your time, I've been waiting here for hours! I'm almost done with the scarf I started!”

She seemed to be rather annoyed with him for that, he in turn was just baffled that he was blamed for being late to an appointment he never made. Still she just sat there knitting, click, click, click, the needles moved almost too fast for him to see them, the blood flying from them was harder to miss though.

“Eh, mam, there's blood on your needles” he said, trying to be helpful.

The woman was clearly insane. She just shot him a look that pretty much amounted to, “of course ya dip shit.” She let him squirm under gaze for a while before answering.

“First of all, none of that mam nonsense, I'm Alice, second, it's worg’s blood, it would be dumb to just waste it all, wouldn't it?”

Again he was at a loss, “What is a worg and why would its blood special?”

The look she shoot him now was of the kind only a mother can master, resignation mixed with patience, bit of love. She sighed quietly, clearly a bit annoyed, but eventually answered with a question of her own.

 “Arren, how much do you know of worgs?

Two things hit him then; first this was the third non-natural creature he had seen. Second, he had never told the woman his name. God, this entire situation was surreal.

“I don't really know anything about them mam, I mean, Alice.” He corrected himself not wanting to antagonize her. “I only know what I see, that they look like, …err wolves, but huge?”

Another sigh before She spoke:

“Worgs are similar to wolves in many ways, but they're also related to demons, making them both stronger and smarter, the demon part of them makes the blood a good source of magic for enchantment”

Her tone in saying this was something akin to a bored teacher repeating the same lecture for the umpteenth time.

“Now come over here, the scarf is finished and I need to look at your foot.”

 Arren stepped closer without even realizing it, before he stopped abruptly. What had that batty old woman just said, demons? Magic? Enchantment? How could anyone know about things like that? He cast the spell yesterday. Unless he had been held in the ritual for a much longer time than he though. His feet started moving of their own volition as the woman stared at him. When he stopped next to her she wrapped a thin black scarf with blood red streaks in it around his neck before grabbing his injured foot. Her hands flashed with a brilliant white light and the pain disappeared rather abruptly as the skin started knitting itself together. He looked at the healed leg in wonder, she looked at him before commenting coldly

“In the future, try not to be stabbed by bunnies”.

He swore quietly, wishing fervently that no one else had observed the “battle”. Alice was just laughing, and her eyes sparkled with mischievous glee, as if she had found his ordeal incredibly amusing. She might have guessed from the rabbit in hand, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the woman had seen the whole thing.

“Thank you”

he said, trying desperately to figure out what was going on. She sat there, on her stump, knowing smile plastered on her face as she looked up at him.

“You’re confused yes? World not as you left it, giant spiders, bunnies with horns, status screens? Might want to think about which world you came back to”

Arren paled, what she said made sense, but it was crazy, maybe he had gone crazy? If it she was right, could he go back? What about his family, his friends? Where would he go? He was dazed, the weight of her words pressed down on him, trying to convince him of a truth that seemed so obvious yet simultaneously preposterous.

 She sat there, a look of pity on her face, “My dear boy, I see you are confused, and I can sense your magic, you need guidance and a place to rest your mind, follow the path behind me, it will lead you to a village, the guardians will challenge you, but if you follow their instructions they should let you in.” she paused for a moment before continuing; “Now I really must get going, but I think we will meet again”

 Wait, status screens? Before he had a chance to as, he blinked, and she was gone, the world spun, he felt so lost and unsure of himself. He brushed his fingers along the scarf she had given him, assuring himself that the words still ringing in his head had indeed been spoken. He felt like he was hallucinating, once again thinking everything that had happened to be a weird trip. Still in a daze he stumbled towards the path the woman had pointed out. He walked along the path for some time, he didn’t know how long it had been, but suddenly a loud voice snapped him out of his daze, challenging him.

“STOP AND IDENTIFY YOURSELF!”

The voice rang loud and clear, in the distance he could hear birds taking flight and animals scuttling away. Arren froze up immediately, which prompted the man hidden in the trees to call out once more.

“DECLARE YOUR INTENTIONS!”

 “I seek shelter, an Old Woman I met here in the forest told me to seek your village, her name was Alice.”

There was only silence after that; he stood there for a good five minutes, trying hard not to move before another voice rang out.

“A vine will reach down and grip you, do not be alarmed, we're taking you to our settlement.”

True to his word, a massive vine reached from a nearby tree and picked him up, almost gently. Only almost though, as it had a rather rough surface. It did however, do its job marvelously and he soon he was treated to a surreal sight, trees knitted together, forming walkways and buildings, a tree village! It was breathtaking in its subtle elegance.

 The vine brought him down on a platform on the outside of the village, in front of him were three people, all of them tall, beautiful and with pointed ears. Once again speechless Arren realized why the watcher had called him out as a human, these people were the very stereotype of elves. The first elf wearing a robe filled with runes, it emanated mana, as well as a sense of wealth. He was probably a noble, Arren guessed. The other two were clearly warriors, having bows on their backs and swords at their sides. One of the warriors looked at him unblinkingly, betraying nothing of his emotions, but the other one looked at him with barely concealed contempt. The mage looked at him first with curiosity, then as if he hit a switch, guarded anger, disgust. Arren couldn’t quite place it, but it was unnerving.

 Eventually the mage broke the silence; “So, Alice sent you?”

It was obvious that he was skeptical of this, or of Arren in general, opting to be polite Arren answered with a bow.

“Yes Sir, my name is Arren, and I met Alice in the woods, she told me to go here because I was lost and likely unable to deal with the danger of the forest”.

The noble whispered something to one of the guards who promptly ran off. The noble then gave Arren a nod before indicating that Arren should follow him.

“My name is Rathore, I will guide you to a temporary dwelling where you can stay before we introduce you to the rest of the council.”

The man was clearly nervous for some reason, but Arren ignored it and kept walking. Eventually they came to a small hut, like the others it seemed to have been grown rather than built, but it was distanced from the other buildings. Just then the warrior who had ran off came back and handed something to the noble, before resuming his post at the right, he didn't even seem winded from the run.

Rathore opened the door and led Arren inside, explaining that this was where he would be staying while he was in the village. It was small compared to many of the other buildings, around, but for one person, it was rather spacious. The elf turned to Arren and presented him with two bracelets.

“these are a symbol meant to reflect your status as a guest” he said as he slid onto Arren's wrists where they shrunk to fit snugly. Just as he was about to thank the elf he felt a massive jolt go through him, sending him crashing to the floor, leaving a sneering elf looking down at him.

“Did you think you could just walk in her, pretending to be sent by The Old One? Do you think a few centuries is enough to erase your crime!? Did you think we had forgotten your face!?”

The elf was shouting, clearly furious.

“I don't know how you faked your death all those years ago, but you won’t escape again! Those bracelets will make your magic worthless! Do you hear me? Worthless! Now, rot in here until the court decides what to do with you. You should never have shown yourself here “Lord” Ashfield for you will never leave.”

He almost growled when he said the name.

 The elf dashed out closing the door behind him, massive vines sprouted and blocked the door, trapping him here. Arren lay dazed on the floor, he was in pain, his mana wasn't responding and he had clearly been mistaken for someone else. Who the hell was this “lord” Ashfield? What the hell could the bastard have done to elicit such a reaction from the elf? And how could Arren look like him, he couldn't possibly be related, they were from different worlds even! Hopefully the elf was senile, and someone would be along to clear up this mess.