A Name in the Shadows

Carrying Mira, We found a cave where we could rest easily without any danger of the monsters. I set up the camp in the place temporarily, lack of Mira's magic has not made it luxurious as it one was.

I put down Mira and put on some fire with some of the traditional methods by beating the stones which was surprisingly easy. 

The crackling fire was the only sound between them at first. I sat cross-legged near the flames, the weight of the sword resting against his leg. Mira, wrapped in her patched cloak, leaned against the hollowed trunk of a long-dead tree.

"You should rest," I said, my voice steady but firm.

Mira's sharp gaze softened as she met his eyes. "And you? No rest for the one holding the sword?"

I glanced at the blade, its worn surface catching the light. "Someone has to keep watch. You've done enough leading me here."

Mira sighed, adjusting her cloak. "Fine. But only because I know your stubbornness would win." She hesitated, then added, "Tell me your name, traveler. I can't keep calling you 'hey you' in my head."

I then paused, staring into the fire. "A name..." he murmured. For a moment, I started looking for all sort of names in my head then something, flickered in my mind. He looked at Mira and said with quiet resolve, "Khaal. Call me Khaal."

Mira raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her lips. "Khaal, huh? A strong name. Fitting for someone who fights like a beast with no regard for his own safety."

"Fitting, I guess," Khaal muttered, brushing off her comment. "What about you, Mira? You seem to know a lot about this world. Care to share some of it?"

She leaned back, the shadows of the fire dancing across her face. "This world is divided, Khaal. This world is divided into five territories controlled by humans, demihumans, dwarves, elves and demons. The humans have built capitals and cities, Dwarves living in the mountains, Elves living in the forests, Demihumans making themselves small villages and cities and Demons living in the dark places thriving for chaos. But there are three things common in them. First, they all die. Second, they madly do the wars with each others for conquering territories and everyone of them wields magic."

Khaal's eyes narrowed as he considered her words. "Everyone wields magic? Even humans"

Mira nodded, her expression steady. "Yes, even humans . Magic is the common thing, but it's also the fuel for their endless wars. Humans fight for dominance, elves for pride, dwarves for greed, and demons for destruction. Even the demihumans squabble for scraps of power.

Khaal chuckled dryly, the sound cold and devoid of mirth. "Rotting? It sounds more like the natural order to me."

Mira raised an eyebrow at him. "That's not a logical or natural way of thinking. Do you consider wars a joke, where people fight to conquer and die for that belief?"

Khaal's eyes flickered with disdain. "Isn't that how this world works? People battle for scraps of power, and the strong walk over them. All of it is meaningless, just noise in the end. The only thing that matters is power, and the ones who can take it." He leaned back, his voice lowering. "They die for their gods, their kings, their borders... but what do they really have to show for it?"

Mira's lips parted, as if to argue, but Khaal wasn't done. "But I'm surprised, Mira. In this world, everyone has power—everyone wields magic. Even the demons, even the elves. What a strange thing, isn't it? That power can be so common and yet so hard to hold onto."

Mira then smiled coldly " Yes, everyone in this world wield magic. No person is born without magic. As the blood course through the veins of all. The magic is in all and without magic no person can live."

Khaal's brow furrowed, and for a moment, his usual arrogance faded. He leaned back, his eyes distant, lost in thought. If every person has magic, if it's in the very blood of all... then why am I without it? His mind raced, the questions gnawing at him, twisting in the silence.

How am I still alive? He couldn't shake the thought. Magic was supposed to be essential—life itself. Yet here he was, standing, breathing, moving through a world where everyone else wielded power, and yet he felt... empty.

A quiet unease crept into his chest, something he hadn't felt in years. Was I never meant to exist here? The thought echoed in his mind, louder than any voice. Was I some mistake, cast into a world where I don't belong?

The silence between them stretched on, and Khaal's fingers twitched. He forced himself to look back at Mira, his expression hardening, but the vulnerability in his eyes was still there, hidden beneath layers of disdain and resentment.

The silence stretched on, heavy and uncomfortable. My fingers twitched, and I couldn't stop myself from asking, "What happens to a person who doesn't wield magic?"

Mira regarded me, her gaze sharp. "Isn't it obvious? That person dies."

The words landed heavily between them, a grim truth that Khaal couldn't ignore. He swallowed hard, trying to mask the flicker of uncertainty in his chest. Die? The thought that he might not belong to this world in the same way others did—it unsettled him in a way he couldn't explain.

Mira's expression softened just a fraction, as if sensing the shift in Khaal. But she didn't offer any comfort. She simply continued. "Magic is the lifeblood of this world. Without it, your body withers and fades. It's not a choice. It's survival. The magic runs through the veins of every living thing here. If it stops, so do you."

Khaal remained silent, his jaw clenched as he processed her words. The implications were too much to bear, yet he couldn't look away. How am I still here, then? He wanted to ask, but he held back, unwilling to reveal the vulnerability growing inside him.

Khaal frowned, but before he could question her further, she closed her eyes. "Rest now, Khaal. You'll need your strength for what's to come."

As she drifted into a light sleep, I kept my promise, standing watch over the flickering fire. The stars wheeled overhead, and the night was still, but my mind was a storm of questions. I had no answers, only uncertainty and a growing sense of dread.