The Road to Denerim

It was not a light trip to Denerim on-site. The city was many days of travel northwards, past the large forest and over the wide-open plains teeming with trolls and beasts of other descriptions. Toren had warned Caelum of how dangerous it was going to be-especially to someone of his years with as little training as he possessed. The landscape was craggy with mountains and feral wilderness, an actual menace around each corner.

The next morning, shortly after the defeat of the troll, it was time to go. Mira had packed essentials: all her healing potions, some herbs, and a few simple comforts. Toren, never to be too careful, had armed himself with his sword as he scanned the surroundings. He had spent too much energy in an overexertion that had left him weary. But he really wished to continue-to learn more of his new powers, of a world into which he had been reborn.

Beside him, striding easily, walked Lirael, the only person who seemed to fathom the depth of this strange, flickering magic Caelum had begun to master. Behind her, her hair flowed like silver, her eyes green, shining bright with quiet knowledge, purveyed by the sight of the world in its brightness and darkness. She grew inseparable from the life of Caelum, and though only a few years older, great was her wisdom-as if centuries rested upon her slender shoulders.

They walked through thick woods, with treetops reaching up to the sky like silent sentinels. Caelum had the very real sense that the forest was alive, its leaves whispering secrets in a tongue he didn't understand. There were birds of precious stones flying through the woods and small, mischievous animals darting through underbrush. But deeper in, another presence settled into the air: that of darklings preening on the edges of the woods.

One night, as they made their camp beside a stream, Caelum lay on his back, staring upwards at the stars. The sky here was different-clearer, more vibrant-and the constellations told stories unfamiliar to him. His mind turned back to the battle with the troll, to that point when raw power surged through his body.

"How did you know how to do magic like that?" he whispered, his eyes on her near accusatorily.

She sat opposite him, her face aglow in the starshine. "I didn't know," she said in the same hushed tones. "Not at first. I was born with the ability to feel the threads, but that doesn't mean I understood them. It took years of practice-of learning how to listen, to understand the world around me." She paused, her gaze softening. "You're not like most people, Caelum. I can feel it. There's something inside you-something powerful-but you have to learn to control it."

Caelum turned his head and looked at her. "What if I don't?"

Liriel's face went serious. "Then it will control you. And that is a danger not only to you, but to everybody who happens to be about you."

Her words hung in the air, expectant. For in his past life, Caelum had been reckless, impulsive-driven by urges to make up for lost time. But here in this world, where magic was as real as mythical beasts roaming, his actions could entail a far-reaching aftermath.

The fire crackled softly between them, breaking the stillness of the night.

"You have taken the first step," Lirael said, continuing, "You have learned to reach out to the threads, even if it's only a thin thread of wind. But you must learn much more-about yourself, about this world, and about the magic that binds everything together."

Caelum nodded, the truth of her words settling deep in his chest. This was but the beginning. He had so much to learn.