Raymond hangs above the canopy, his feet barely staying above the tallest leaves as he maintains his altitude using a spell that keeps them aloft almost effortlessly at this point. He developed it only a year ago after spending a lifetime mastering wind, but ever since he first lifted into the air, he’s been using it almost daily at this point.

  He searches the forest below him for the source of that shrill whistle, as the wind whips his long, blonde hair into his face for what must be the thousandth time. With a sigh, he sends mana coursing through his body, freely shaping it into the spell that he requires. Once the pathways have been drawn out, he activates it, and the wind ceases blowing around him, settling his hair down once again but slowly draining his supply from his reservoir.

  He searches for a while longer and considers going down into the forest proper in order to look properly, just in case that whistling was someone calling for help. The forest is gravely dangerous, after all, and if someone is trapped in there it’d be a simple matter for him to lift them out and put them on the right side, back in civilization. But he is in a hurry, and he’s wasted far more time than he has searching for the amount that he has already.

  He gives one final glance towards the East, where his sister’s farm used to be, and again considers stopping over for a quick visit, just to check up on them. It’s been many, many years since he’s done so. And he misses her and sweet little Emily immensely.

  But just as he’s about to give in to the longing feeling of missing the only family that he has left, he remembers that final day. How angry his sister Fiona was at him for teaching Emily the things that he did. And how determined she was to never want him around them ever again.

  Letting out a sigh, he turns away from the East once again, deciding that he’ll still respect her wishes and stay away, no matter how heavy it makes his heart feel.

  He’s already late for his appointment, after all. And with war brewing between Greenbarrow and Wrenfall, he doesn’t predict that he’ll have the time to pop in for a friendly chat anytime soon, anyways.

  He continues traveling West, watching as the dense greenery starts to thin and open up bit by bit as he gets closer and closer to civilization. He always did find the forest pretty from afar, but he can certainly appreciate having the ability to fly over the pure clusterfuck that is its floorbed. He chuckles to himself as he remembers the first time he crossed it on foot, having been brought close to the edge again and again, having to fight and work for every single inch of ground he covered.

  It was all worth it, in the end. He wouldn’t be where he is today if it wasn’t for the people he met on the other side.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  He reaches the neighbouring kingdom swiftly, seeing the infamous valley and its border in all of its glory. Archers stand at the ready, their keen eyes staring out at the long, empty valley before them. Siege weapons are already out and ready to be used, the kingdom alert and waiting for an attack at any moment. But Raymond doesn’t give them a second thought, flying over their border without a care, staring down in curious fascination at the battle lines being drawn and the careful, watchful gaze of the scouts far below. He’s certain that no one will look up and spot him sailing across the skies. Only him and three other people, as far as he knows, can fly, after all, so nobody ever checks above them.

  After another hour of travel, he finds what he’s looking for: A cabin out in the middle of nowhere, discreet and unassuming. And awfully familiar to him, after all the years him and his friends used it as their training grounds.

  Landing gently next to the front door, he adjusts his clothes, taking a moment to prepare himself for what’s coming next. He stares up wistfully at the words carved above the entryway, a declaration as well as a mission statement that turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy:

  “Through Knowledge We Touch Upon The Realm Of Gods”

  Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes, remembering that no matter what, they’re still his friends and that they’re all in this together.

  He opens the door, and steps inside to a cacophony of arguing voices.

  He walks through the doorway and right into the main room, the space taking up the majority of the unassuming house. A massive, round table stands in the center, lovingly crafted by hand and embellished over the years using different types of mana and with varying levels of skill. Ten wooden chairs lie around the table, each one carved into a different shape representing the different elements of their users.

  For a nostalgic moment, Raymond pictures what it used to look like, back in the day when they were all setting out to either prove themselves fools or pioneers of discovery. When all of the chairs just looked like ordinary chairs, and when the ten people who filled them were none other than ordinary fools who had nothing but a dream, with no idea just how much that dream would cost them.

  Now, many years later, only five of the chairs are occupied where once the whole room was full. And looking around at said occupants, while the faces are familiar, Raymond recognizes none of them.

  The room slowly goes silent, as he steps up towards his chair, his large frame and the power contained within him seeming to fill the gaps that the dwindling arguments leave behind in their wake.

  He places a hand on the back of his hand-carved chair, feeling the intricate patterns of wind underneath his fingers. He slowly pulls it out and sits down upon it, placing his hands on the table and looking into the eyes of each person.

  “Thank you all for coming. We’re here to decide how we’re going to stop this war, no matter what it takes.”

  Once again, the room explodes into noise, and Raymond lets out a sigh, knowing that it’s going to be a long day.