The young mage poked his head out from under the moss covered log he had found. It had been a few bits now since he had found this new spot and hadn’t heard anyone nearby.
Sor’an slowly crawled out of his hidey-hole. Maybe he should head back, after all, the game could be over now for all he knew.
He looked around and searched for where he had come from. Was it… that way? He started walking.
He kept walking for a time. The oppressive sound of the forest surrounding him. The bustle of the city had long been replaced with the song of birds and the movements of unseen animals.
Wait, he didn’t recognize that patch of vines. Sor’an stopped. Or any of these trees. This path was all wrong.
He groaned at his own stupidity, burrowing his face in his hands. This was so stupid. He was stupid. Now he had gotten himself lost in the feking Makubwa Lori.
The reality of the situation started to sink in. His heartbeat started to quicken. Ok, retrace his steps then. He turned around and stared into the forest, the light from the sky dimming.
His eyes wide and darting, he started forward, trying to retrace his steps.
This way. Or was it this way? No, it was over this fallen branch, right? Sor’an quickened his pace as his heart beat faster and his surroundings grew less familiar.
No, no, no! This was all wrong. The low-pitched screech from a bird much too big to be friendly sounded off in the distance. Sor’an looked in all directions, his head darting around as every sound became a potential danger.
His breathing was ragged. He could barely hear himself think over the blood rushing in his ears. He could yell for help. Would that draw in predators? He looked up, trying to get a glimpse at the low hanging suns. Of course not, it’s too late in the trial. He couldn’t figure out cardinal directions from suns he couldn’t see. Attunement. It could find things. Maybe he could find his way back that way?
His grasped at his spark desperately, letting his ether flow. He felt around with his spark blindly as if reaching out to a frequency. It was all blurry, undefined, bland, grey, and textureless. He could feel nothing unless he attuned to a specific frequency.
He started running through the forest. He searched with eyes and spark, looking for anything to lead him back to safety. His spark gave him nothing.
The path before him opened up, revealing a small clearing. Here, light shone dimly onto rocky terrain where the trees wouldn’t grow.
He walked to the center where a large boulder resided and leaned against it, resting the back of his head against the cold stone.
Tears full of terror and frustration threatened to boil over. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He had to be able to think straight if he was going to get out of here.
First, he was wasting ether. He would overstep if he continued. He released his spark, cutting off the flow of ether. He knew Attunement could help him get back, but he needed to try a different approach. For that, he needed to focus.
Sor’an climbed up onto the boulder and sat with his legs crossed. His breathing was rapid. He closed his eyes, trying to bring his emotions under control. He pushed the frustration down, the terror, the self-doubt.
The sounds of the forest pulled at his thoughts. He furrowed his brow in concentration and tried to tune them out. As the bits passed, the sounds faded from a gnawing cacophony to a gentle whisper.
He took a long deep breath. His heart slowed as he exhaled. He focused on his breathing, it was all there was. In and out. Rhythmic. Hypnotic. Meditative.
Inhale.
He gently reached for his spark, his will steady. The image of the pond slowly came into focus. Its surface moved with his breath.
Exhale.
He looked down. The shore was wet, the impressions of his feet lead away from the pond and into the… forest. The pond was surrounded by the forest.
Inhale.
He left his perch and followed the tracks. His feet making more even now. He opened himself up to the power. The small pool of ether that resided in the young mage flowed forth.
Exhale.
He could feel it now, the bigger picture. It wasn’t just the tracks in front of him. He sensed where he had been before. He almost smiled through this trance as he realized how he had been walking in circles.
Inhale.
Here was where Chi’eja and himself and hidden before. He was getting closer.
Ringing.
Ringing.
Ringing.
It all shattered.
Sor’ans' eyes fluttered open. He felt… bad. Like he had been stretched too thin. But that was a much more distant feeling. The more pressing feeling was the constant, high-pitched squeal in his ears. Was this overstepping? He let go of his spark.
He clasped his ears. The sound didn’t go away. He snapped his finger and heard it faintly. The ringing was overpowering, but he wasn’t deaf.
He could just made out something in the distance. A scream? Chi’ejas scream?
Sor’an raced forward.
He broke out into the glade and looked for Chi’eja. He spotted her chasing after someone else in … a mask?
It seemed most of the others had already made their way back and were now standing around laughing at the scene. Some of Ki’wons gang had masks on or were holding them while Ki’won himself was being chased around by Chi’eja wielding a particularly hefty stick.
Ok’yan noticed Sor’an and shouted something at him with a smile. Sor’an tried to piece together what he said for a moment.
Ok’yan must have noticed the confused look on Sor’an. His face drew concerned and came closer. The mage just barely made out what his friend said:
"You ok Sor’an?”
Sor’an offered up a weak smile and nodded
"I’ll be ok. Got a little lost. What’s going on?”
Ok’yan let a laugh escape despite himself.
"Ki’won tried to scare us," he said, looking back as Ki’won was pleading for a truce.
"Chi’eja didn’t like it very much.”
The two laughed for a moment and joined the others. After a few bits, the last of the group returned to the glade and they started moving back to Desnind. Sor’an began to explain what had happened after Chi’eja and himself had been split up.
Ok’yan looked on at Sor’an with a mixture of awe and concern for his friend
"So how exactly did you get back to the group?”
Sor’an stuck out his tongue, a sly look in his eyes
"I told you, It’s your stench. It led me right to you.”
They laughed together, walked back through the Itoju, and overcame the trial.
Only to be met by another when they awoke the next morning. And the next. And the next.
Xanthea
