Woodsmoke. Chill air. A low, foreign voice. His eyelids peeled open to a swimming blur of white fur and amber that sharpened into a fox's snout inches from his face. Intelligent amber eyes watched him as his brain sluggishly tried to process the image: a giant white fox head was looking down at him.

  Morning light filtered through the canopy. Skate rested on his leg, a comforting weight. He tried to shift. A paralyzing fire shot from his side, forcing a gasp from his lips. He looked down at his wound. The gash was sealed beneath a thin, dark scab.

  "This isn't a place for Wild Mages, Smooth-Skin," the creature said. "You'll get lost in the Root System and end up in another world."

  The creature had the body of a woman, clad in tight black leather armor. But instead of a human head, she had the head of a white-furred fox, a large, bushy tail swishing behind her.

  "My name's Mara. I'm a Guardian of the Mana Forest. Who are you, Wild Mage?"

  Trenn was baffled, but the sheer weirdness of the past day was starting to numb him to surprise. At least she had not tried to kill him. "I'm Trenn... and I think I already stepped through one of those portals. This isn't my world."

  He looked at her, his voice pleading. "Can you show me the way back home?"

  The Guardian's ears drooped, a profound sadness softening her vulpine features. "There's no 'going back', Wild Mage,” she said, finally understanding Trenn’s situation. “Your world was Mana Bombed, correct? Everything… went crazy? And you got lost in a strange forest?"

  Trenn’s eyes narrowed. "What's a Wild Mage?" he asked, seizing on the strange term. "You keep calling me that."

  "Anomalies," Mara said. "Mutated by Mana Radiation."

  "Radiation?" Trenn asked, looking at his hands.

  "Your world had no Mana. The bomb irradiated your world. It hit like a tidal wave. It washed over your planet, and it soaked you."

  "Mana? Soaked? What does it mean?"

  "If introduced violently, it can transform people. Rewire them for a single purpose: to cast a handful of specific spells."

  “You’re saying I can… cast spells?”

  “Instinctively,” she nodded. "The mana bomb mutated your entire biology. Have you figured out what your spells are yet?"

  Trenn shook his head. "Spells... no. I don’t know..." His voice hardened with resolve as he pushed himself on his elbows. "But I know what I want. I want to go home!"

  Mara’s sad expression returned. "There’s no way home, Trenn," she said gently.

  "Your planet was sacrificed."

  A tremor started in his hands. "Sacrificed?" The word punched the air from his lungs. The forest's morning sounds vanished, leaving only the ringing in his ears. "That’s insane. You can't just... sacrifice a planet."

  "It was used as bait to attract the Shears," she cut in, her voice flat. "When they’re done with your world, there will be no life left. No Mana Forest to connect to."

  She paused, looking for the right words.

  "In a way, you’re lucky. If you hadn’t gotten lost and found your way here, you would be doomed. Awaiting death."

  She made eye contact with him, her amber eyes holding his, ensuring the final, devastating sentence registered.

  "Like everyone else on your home planet."

  Trenn slumped back against the rough bark of a log. Denial rose in his throat, but it died there. He looked at the fox-headed woman. He looked at the living rock, eating an egg. The impossible was staring him in the face; why should the end of the world be any different?

  The morning was deceptively peaceful. Spears of pale yellow light pierced the morning mist, dancing across the damp earth. The air smelled of pine and wet soil, almost—but not quite—like home.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Across the dying embers of a small campfire, Mara sat eating a hard-boiled egg, her fox-like head tilted as she watched Trenn with unreadable amber eyes.

  He hadn't touched his own food, his gaze fixed on the ghosts of his memory in the fire. His fingers, moving with a dreamlike slowness, broke off a small piece of egg white. He bent down and placed the offering gently onto Skate's smooth, grey surface.

  The piece of egg sank into the creature's strange skin, dissolving into a faint, milky cloud within the living stone before disappearing completely.

  "You know that's a Rock Slime, right?"

  Mara’s dry, inquisitive voice cut through the heavy air. "They're not... friendly. Usually."

  Trenn didn't seem to hear her. The nature of his friend was a trivial detail in the face of planetary annihilation. His voice, when it finally came, was flat and toneless.

  "They're all dead?"

  Mara paused, her half-eaten egg held motionless. She shook her vulpine head slowly.

  "No," she said, her voice unexpectedly gentle.

  "Not yet."

  A raw gasp of air pulled at the scabbed wound on his side, the pain a distant thing. He jolted from his stupor. "They're alive?"

  "I mean, maybe. A Mana Bomb… it does a lot of damage in urban areas. But the Shears themselves," Mara continued, "their journey through Deep Space takes time. It could be months. Maybe even a year before they arrive and begin to poison your world.”

  His head snapped up. His eyes truly focused on Mara for the first time, locking onto her amber gaze. The dull, lifeless grey of his irises was gone, replaced by a blazing, incandescent fire.

  "A year?" The word was a choked gasp. He swayed forward, his hands gripping the ground for stability. "A whole... *year*? I can... I have to go back. I can get them out! I can warn them!"

  A flicker of pity crossed Mara's vulpine features, but her voice was merciless. "The Root System doesn't work that way," she said, extinguishing the fragile hope in his chest.

  “Only Grimoire Mages know how to travel the Root System without getting lost.”

  Trenn wasted no time. “Who are they? Where can I find them?”

  Mara stood up, stretching gracefully. With a casual nod, she gestured vaguely to the West. "They have a citadel," she said. "A place called the Anurys Mirror."

  Mara turned her head, her amber eyes locking onto his. "But Trenn. The Grimoire Mages. They are the ones who did this. They Mana Bombed your planet."

  He took a moment to register her statement. "What are you talking about?"

  "The Grimoire Mages," Mara said, her voice flat and cold. "The Order. They sacrificed your home to bait the Shears. It’s what they do: control the Shear’s relentless push. Keep them away from planets where the Order has colonised Mana Sources."

  She paused, letting the monstrous weight of the revelation settle.

  "Will you go and ask the architects of your world's end for help?"

  His hands moved on their own, a steadying, mechanical motion. He broke off another piece of his cold, forgotten egg and leaned down to place it on Skate’s surface. He watched it sink and dissolve, the simple, repetitive act a tiny anchor in the storm of his impossible choice.

  He stared at the dead fire, the paradox weighing on him like physical pressure. To save his family, he had to seek out the destroyers of his world.

  Mara, sensing his paralysis, broke the quiet. "The Order could teach you about your spells... though I've heard they aren't fond of Wild Mages."

  She paused, tilting her head. "Come to think of it, I'm not fond of them either. Unpredictable. Dangerous. Power untempered by skill." A slow realization dawned in her amber eyes.

  "It is... unusual." She leans closer, sniffing the air subtly. "I've met Wild Mages before. The encounter usually ends with drawn claws. Yet here I am, sharing my eggs." A slow dawning realization in her eyes. "Unless... It's not me. It's you."

  "Me? What did I do?"

  "Perhaps nothing conscious. A passive glamour, woven by your wild magic. A subtle compulsion to find you... likable. To lower one's guard."

  A small, wry smirk touched his lips. "You think I’m likable? Glad you didn't stab me over a label I learned about five minutes ago. It didn't seem to work on the killer squirrels or the reptile hunters."

  Mara shook her head. "A glamour is useless against true hostility. It's not mind control. Think of it as... magnetism. For someone on the fence, it gently encourages them to land on your side."

  The smirk on Trenn's face faded, replaced by a look of dawning concern. "You're talking about this so casually," he said slowly. "But you're saying I'm using a spell to... influence you? Shouldn’t you be angry?"

  This time, Mara’s laugh was a genuine, throaty sound. “You overthink it, little Wild Mage. I am a Guardian. I am not under your thrall. My claws could be at your throat in a second if I willed it."

  She sobered, her gaze becoming more intense. "But I have met many in this forest. Survivors, wanderers, refugees. Even a Wild Mage or two," she said before taking a dramatic pause. "And I have never, ever shared my food with any of them.”

  Trenn smirked, shaking his head. "I'm casting spells, and I don't even know it?"

  “That’s what Wild Mages do,” Mara replied. “You’ve charmed a rock slime into becoming your pet. You’ve charmed me into answering your questions and sharing my meal."

  She leaned forward, her amber eyes glinting with a new, intriguing purpose.

  "There is something special about you, Trenn," she insisted. "After all, we're communicating right now, and I don’t speak your language. I’m assuming you don’t speak mine. That’s a divination spell," she said, as a thoughtful look crossed her face.

  "But there are a few ways to test what you can really do. If you’re up to it?"

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