Luka pulled himself from the two void, black orbs that were Aunt Sol’s eyes. He forced himself to look away, especially from the raven headdress. Luckily, he found an unimpressed Eve.

“Was that magic? The way the lawn moved?”

She gave a shrug. “Mystics can do weird things.”

Chortling like a dying cat, Sol said, “They musta told you about my bird.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” he muttered.

The old, but perfect skinned, woman rolled her eyes, setting them on Franky. “You’ve grown.”

“That happens,” Franky said, crossing his arms.

Sol glanced at Eve. “I like the hair.”

Eve forced herself to ignore the comment. “Sol, we’ve come to talk about magic.”

“Finally decided to see the light?”

Jutting her thumb at Luka, Eve said, “For him. He wants to learn, and Tram said to talk to you, despite our best efforts.”

“You couldn’t teach him?” Sol asked, eyeing Luka from head to toe. “I’ve never taught a human before, what makes you think I’d start today?”

“I would teach him, but I have to agree with Tram. He’s out of my wheelhouse.”

“Uh huh.” Pulling from her pocket, Sol held a glass jeweler’s lens to her dark eyes. “What makes you so special that my niece can’t work with ya?”

Franky opened his mouth. “He’s a—"

“From his own lips, if you don’t mind nephew.”

Franky closed his mouth.

“I’m a World Walker,” Luka said plainly. “’Born’ two hours ago.”

“And you want to learn magic. Tall order.”

“Not learn, understand. I can already cast—Goddess Tippy gifted me a sort-of materialization magic.”

The darkness in Sol’s eyes disappeared and was replaced by a violet sunrise. The raven on her head cawed. “Why didn’t you just say so?” she asked. “Come on in.”

Leading them inside, Sol snatched a booklet from a tall, dusty stack, and pushed on a crumbling wall. Her hand imprinted into the paint, sending spiderwebs of magic from her fingertips. Lights blazed around the entry hall, slicing along the dank interior before phasing through reality. In an instant, walls repainted, dust disappeared, a layer of grime and bug droppings faded like snowflakes on a warm day.

Luka gawked.

What was left was a spotless, pristine house—one with much more space that the relatively small exterior would suggest. Luka forced his jaw closed as a thought of a blue police box came to his forethought for some reason, just another aimless memory in his skewered brain.

Sol sat them down at an emberwood circular table, the thing radiated a gentle warmth that tickled Luka’s fingers if he touched it. On a shelf nearby, jars and various glassware hung drying upside down. A cauldron bubbled a step away, and the sickly sweet smell of baking cookies wafted through the air. He didn’t know if he should be afraid or not—the siblings weren’t.

“Magic from Tippy, huh? I didn’t think it was her turn yet. Strange, they musta wanted you.” Sol said, flapping the booklet open to a fresh page. A quill appeared in her hand, similar to Eve’s own. “Well, the gods’ will is something I’ll never understand. What I can do is magic. ‘Materialization’ magic is rather broad. What can you do specifically?”

Luka went to speak, but Eve spoke faster, “Disintegration and transmutative fabrication. He fixed a broken doll with a stick and some sap, as well as built some things out of stone.”

“Sap, eh?” The raven on Sol cawed.

“I think I could have fixed the doll without the sap.”

All eyes turned to Luka.

“What?” Eve asked.

He shuffled in his seat a bit. “I think I didn’t need the sap. I was imagining glue when I did it, but after the slides, I think I could have just… magiced the stick onto the doll, connecting the leg and body.”

Sol scratched into the booklet, taking notes. “Could you have connected the leg and torso without an additive stick?”

Luka thought about it. “I don’t see why not.”

“Uh huh. And what is a ‘slide?’”

“Something I milled into the stone cliffside for the kids. They sit on it and Eve’s water glyph pushes them down and into the water.”

Sol stole a glance at Eve, who was already stealing at glance at her. Both looked away.

“Interesting way to put that, ‘milling.’” Sol snapped her fingers, summoning a wicked pair of thick-rimmed glasses to fly off a nearby end table into her hands. She put them on, doubling the size of her eyes. “Is that a common word from your world, milling?”

He shrugged. “In my field, yes.”

“And what was your field?”

“An engineer… though I can’t tell you what I made.”

Sol wrote all of that down. “Alright, I’ll teach you, but on one condition.”

Luka deferred to Eve, who gave him a limp shrug. “Okay,” he said.

“All you have to do is tell me if you like my pet raven.”

Again, Sol pointed to her headdress, and again the stuffed bird moved. It flapped its wings, pulling a gale force strong enough to cause Luka’s hair to flop about.

He saw Eve stretch her fingers along the table, clawing into it with her nails. Franky, likewise, adjusted his arms, recrossing them tighter like an annoyed guard at a bank. His lips were pressed into a thin, uncomfortable line.

A moment passed, and Luka said, “I don’t understand the request.”

Eve grunted at his response—the raven and Sol jerked their heads to look at her. Eve won the resultant staring contest.

“Fine. Fine, fine, fine.” Sol snapped the booklet closed. “I’ll help, but you have to promise that you won’t tell anyone not to acknowledge my pet. I have to get my entertainment from somewhere and these two—” she thrust her two thumbs at the siblings, “only come around when they want something.”

Stolen story; please report.

“I don’t know, I had fun with them today at the lake—” Luka cut himself off when both siblings facepalmed.

“The lake you say?” asked Sol. “Heh, the lake it is—if that is where I must teach you.”

“Sounds good to me. Thanks—”

Sol snapped her fingers and suddenly he and the siblings were standing outside.

“Gods! That woman is so frustrating!” Eve screeched, stomping her foot on a small rock. The rock broke apart, spewing blue sparks. One of the porch lights, a glowing crystal mounted just above head level, went out. “Who sends guests away with teleportation magic? Cranky old hags, that’s who!”

Uncrossing his arms, Franky said, “Mother would never have allowed such treatment. She’d be spitting fire—”

He abruptly went silent, two dark orbs peered from the window at them.

“I think she heard you,” Luka whispered.

Eve spun staring back at Sol. “Good!”

With haste, Luka followed the siblings as they stormed off.

“So that was your aunt?” he asked.

“And the village’s local maniac,” Franky muttered. “She breathed in too much mana dust, if you catch my drift.”

Luka, in fact, did not.

With her teeth clenched, Eve said, “More importantly, it’s her fault—”

“Eve, stop.”

“Am I wrong, Franky? Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll never bring it up again!”

He quieted his voice, but it still shook as he spoke. “What happened was a tragedy. I’m as mad at her as you, but we both know her magic didn’t cause the collapse.”

Scoffing, Eve dashed ahead, disappearing around a bend.

“Sorry about that,” Franky said after a long, deep breath. “Eve is a sweet young woman, but can get hotter than an emberore ingot—especially when it comes to Aunt Sol.”

“Can I ask or is it private?” Luka asked.

Tension leaked from the orc’s shoulders and they popped when he rolled them. He closed his eyes, slowing his walking speed.

“Eve, wrongfully, believes Aunt Sol to be the reason everyone died at the mines. Aunt Sol was asked to blast through the mine’s deepest point to look for more ore. They found some, and she left for the day while everyone else mined it. The cave collapsed not long after. Aunt Sol tried to evacuate everyone, but couldn’t—not in time, at least. She got the bodies back eventually.”

Luka was quiet for a long moment. “Did Sol make a mistake? Was her magic too damaging to the mine?”

“Nope, she used a very specific, very safe spell to excavate. All signs showed that the mine was safe to operate. We don’t know what caused the collapse.”

“Then why did Eve say it was her fault? Doesn’t sound like it was to me.”

Franky pulled out a small tin case from his pocket, unwrapping its stained fabric cover. Opening it, the very bitter scent flooded the immediate area. Two rolled leaves sat within, each about the size of a thin carrot. Franky put one in his mouth and snapped his finger, creating a flicking candle flame on his finger tip. He lit the cigarette.

From the corner of his mouth, he blew out his flaming finger. “Simple cantrip, if you were wondering,” he said, puffing iridescent smoke. “I was never one for magic, but I can do a few bar tricks.”

He took a long drag, leaning his head back to watch the canopy shuffle in the wind. He then passed it to Luka—who hesitated with it. A rainbow of smoke perfumed the area. It smelled like bitter blueberries.

“It wasn’t Aunt Sol’s fault,” Franky said as Luka attempted to take an equally deep drag. “But sometimes it’s easier to blame her for the collapse, rather than what she actually did.”

Luka’s coughing caused the orc to pause. “It’s good, right? Best prismpuff we’ve got around here. I have to take a special trip to Sneerhome to get it.”

The World Walker glared, shoving the joint back into Franky’s hands. “Why is my nose tingling?”

“That’s just the hallucinogens kicking in. You’ll be fine, they’re pretty mild.”

“Mild for an orc or a human?”

“Oh… Uh… Not sure.” Franky looked away, taking a quick puff. “Anyway, blaming Aunt Sol for the collapse is easier than admitting she didn’t raise us. She was never there for us, after. Both our parents died, leaving us as orphans. She gave Eve some magic lessons, but…” He took another puff. “Mayor Tram was more of an aunt to us than Sol ever was.”

“I see,” Luka said, watching the bark on a nearby tree move in a spiral. “I—I don’t want to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, nor do I want to presume anything—”

Franky held up his hand, waving the smoking joint around. “Aunt Sol was grieving too, she lost a sister and a brother-in-law. She also blamed herself for the collapse, despite everyone knowing it wasn’t her fault. I can understand why she became a shut-in, I can understand why she was reluctant to take care of us—she never asked for two little kids to be thrust at her. I get all of that, Eve does too, deep down.”

He held it out for Luka, the Earthling took another drag.

“But she abandoned us when we needed our family,” Franky muttered, his words causing the trees to stop spinning.

Luka breathed out hot smoke. “I’m sorry, man.”

“I am too.”

“Should I cancel my lessons with Sol? I don’t want to make one of the three people I know mad.”

“Nah. Honestly, Eve needs to grow up a little. Don’t get me wrong, I’m mad as hell at Aunt Sol, but I know I can’t ignore the woman forever.”

Luka went silent at that. He wanted to help them, he wanted to help everyone. It was strange, wasn’t it? Just a few hours old in this world, and he already saw Eve and Franky as friends. And what kind of friend wouldn’t want to help each other out? They were already helping him, maybe he could help back. Still, he didn’t want to overstep—at least, not on his first day.

“What’s up with the raven?” he asked.

Franky laughed in the middle of taking a long drag. “When you see it, you’ll know. Until then, try to forget about it.”

The trees’ bark started moving again. Luka squinted at them, unsure how to feel about it.

About everything, really.

He took another drag.

“This is pretty good.”

Opening the carrying case, Franky gave him the second unlit one. “Take it, I have a stash at home.”

Taking it, Luka asked, “This stuff isn’t illegal, right?”

“Nah, but some people tell you off if you smoke it in public.” They rounded the bend, finding Eve and the dire-beasts. “Come on, let’s get you sitting down before the hallucinogens kick in.”

“They already have, I think.”

Franky looked at him, his smirk falling. “I guess ‘mild’ for an orc was right.”

***

“Ugh!” Franky yelled when the bar came back into view. “Customers!” He sprinted ahead, Sebby’s paws kicking up dirt.

Eve slowed Olive to a stop, coming up beside Leo and the spaced-out Luka. “Think you can handle getting Leo’s saddle off? Looks like a merchant caravan’s coming through for some after lunch drinks.”

The little birds tattooed on her skin started flapping their wings. One locked eyes with the World Walker. “You can handle Leo, right?"

Luka recoiled at its fluttery voice, nodding in the process. Eve flicked Olive’s reins, rushing ahead.

“Did that bird just speak?” he muttered, finding Leo looking at him. “Don’t give me that look. I don’t know what’s real right now. Did the bird speak, or am I hallucinating?”

Leo huffed, sending a shockwave of spittle into the ground. The beast walked himself into the barn, his rider not doing too good of a job leading him. When dried hay met paws, Leo lowered himself to his belly.

“Thanks, buddy,” Luka said, slipping down his side—like a slide. “Why’d I make a slide when the kids could’ve just slid down your fur?”

Mechanically, he started to tug at Leo’s saddle. “It’s funny really. It’s like I’m back home taking care of a family pet or something.”

He stopped. “Our two worlds aren’t all that different, are they?”

Leo whined as a strap was yanked too tight.

“Oh sorry. Let me just—” The leather fell through Luka’s hand, disappearing into the forest that was Leo’s fur. “Everything’s just moving—I don’t—”

“Let me help, child.”

Luka and Leo stirred at the voice, finding a woman with skin made of sunlight and hair woven from happiness—Goddess Tippy. She wiggled a finger, unleashing the saddle. It fell limp to the side, kicking up dust and hay. She frowned, the small gesture sending a wave of light from her shoulders. The magic cascaded down, rolling into the barn and removing the grit and grime.

“Maybe try a weaker strain next time.”

And like that, the goddess disappeared.

Luka smacked his lips. “See, I’m not sure if that was real or not.”

Leo, who had been breathing in second hand hallucinogenic smoke, nodded in agreement.

“I think I need to sit down.”

His body led the way, his mind reeling to catch up. He’d been here only a few hours, and yet, it felt like weeks. Colors saturated as he snuggled himself into Leo’s fur, the wolf accepting his fate as a pillow. It was strange, right? Magic, orcs, dire-beasts, gods. Earth felt so close, and yet, he didn’t want to go back. Not at all.

Life here was different, but also similar. It was nice. It was warm. Mayor Tram and Aunt Sol were… interesting. But Eve and Franky? The kids?

He smiled, closing his eyes. The barn was spinning. He was spinning. Was he nervous, was he happy? Tears streamed down his face as he hugged the wolf. The darkness in his vision reminded him of his actual home—oblivion. Of death, his death.

He didn’t want to go back there.

He wanted to live. He wanted to—

War.

He remembered war.

A memory, a single clear picture of his life before death. He stood in a street overflowing with blood and watched a pair of jets boom across the sky. He was smiling, not so much a spec of dirt on his decorated uniform.

The memory faded, as did Luka’s consciousness. He fell asleep, his face buried in Leo’s fur.