Jaux Ballad has always wanted to enter the realm of magic, but could not do so by regular means. In his desperation to become a magician he finds himself with more power, and more trouble, than he could ever have imagined.

*=+=*=+=*=+=*

Why did the old shopkeeper suggest this? It made sense, at least to all the arch mages, but Raycern was Suhara's friend. Was this betrayal? In dark times, perhaps desperation transcended friendships. He didn't even see her off. After the old man made his proposal, he just left.

Was this a time to feel angry? No, that didn't seem right. There was disappointment, at least.

The eerie branches of Gallain were just ahead, barely a stroll further. Suhara stood transfixed, staring deep into what could be her grave. Her light crystal's glow barely reached the edge.

When there is nothing but darkness, everything looked a little gray. It was odd, but also not as frightening. However, contrasted against the bright crystal, the rest of the world became a somber pitch black.

From the distance, Gallain looked almost like a fuzzy black cloud, maybe a porcupine. The branches had no leaves, so their spiky ends meshed together perfectly.

The young girl looked back towards her transport, the dimensional mage Wenlia. Their eyes met, but Wenlia was quick to turn away. She was so ashamed to be leaving a student here to walk towards an uncertain end. The woman almost considered grabbing the girl and running off, but a quick look at the complete darkness that surrounded them snuffed out that idea.

There was nowhere to run. This was only an option because the entire realm was in peril.

Wenlia opened her mouth, but hesitated with what to say. She finally decided on silence. This was not something to comfort with words. No goodbyes, no false wishes of luck. It would be improper to disguise this tragedy.

With that, the dimensional mage had gone in a flash of blue. Suhara was alone.

There were no clocks out here. Suhara's heartbeat had become unreliable, going between being as slow as a caterpillar and as fast as a hummingbird. She could have been standing still for a minute or a decade. It was at a point where it didn't matter.

If they were wrong, Theema wasn't going to stop. People couldn't endure much longer.

If they were right, what's one life given for all the others?

Still, Suhara didn't stride forward. Even if lives were being lost right now, even if every second wasted was another death under Theema's reign, Suhara still feared for herself.

She volunteered for this, mostly because Desyi's death weighed upon her mind. It was her fault. They never had a chance to talk, from one to another, heart to heart. She was a fantastic friend, but death was unbiased.

If this really was the end, perhaps they could both meet again. The end of life was always an unknown realm.

With that thought in mind, Suhara walked forth. The darkness would always be uncertain.

=+=+=

"What do you mean?" Frey asked, "No one survives staying in Gallain!"

The wand shop was a mess. Glass displays were shattered into sharp dust, mystic staves littered the splintered floor, and there were several large holes in the stone walls. Frey breathed heavily, dripping with sweat. She hadn't used any barriers for herself, so her knuckles bled.

She had stopped when Raycern entered, when he declared that Suhara would be okay. He didn't answer Frey's following question. At least not right away.

The old man held up his hands, and whispered out, "Come."

Frey was confused, and stood her ground. She didn't know why the old shopkeeper was asking for her to approach.

The thing is, Raycern wasn't talking to her. From the back wall, a wooden staff floated up and drifted across the room. It fit snugly into the old man's withered hands, then glowed orange for a moment.

"Ancient staves have fallen out of use," said the old man, "and many mages, such as yourself, have embraced synthetic staves. That is not a bad thing. However, to take your mystic tools from nature, and provide it with magic, is to make the object live again. Your wand is powerful, but my staff speaks to me. It knows no words, but we connect as friends do."

"W-what?" Frey's rage faded, replaced with bewilderment.

"I will never find the source of my staff, its mother." Raycern said, "This is because that source was divided into countless other magic tools. All for different people. The origin is lost."

Frey narrowed her eyes again. "You're not making any sense."

Raycern smirked. "Then listen harder, lass. We fear entering the forest of Gallain, because it is the death of magic. To get a single wand-worthy branch from that forest is riskier than walking into a leviathan's mouth. Our friend Suhara has one with her now, a branch of Gallain, the demon root. I'm sure Gallain will allow her passage to meet the source of her tool."

"What does that mean?" asked Frey.

The old man gestured to his staff. "These mystic items listen to us, our thoughts and emotions. That is how we communicate. I spoke with the lass before the meeting. Her grief is overwhelming, and she feels powerless. She wants to help, to make up for everything. It's why she agreed to go to Gallain, and her source may yet help her."

Frey was confused again, but she wanted to believe what she was being told. "Help how? How would you know?"

"I haven't much idea," he replied, "I just hope my faith in our silent friends is rewarded."

"That doesn't... why- why didn't you say this at the meeting?" said Frey.

"What the sources provide to us are gifts," he said. "If she went in asking for help, the source would deny her. What she holds in her heart now is genuine. The source will hear her true soul, honestly."

=+=+=

They did not touch her, rather... they refused to touch her.

The mystic flora of Gallain, known as demon statues, did not physically move out of the way. Still, their ability to drain magic didn't affect Suhara at all. She walked through unharmed, deeper and deeper into the black woods.

What now? They weren't working.

They failed... she failed again. Just like she thought, the was nothing she could do. Theema couldn't be stopped.

Suhara slumped down, falling onto the roots of one of the demon statues.

She hadn't been able to show any coherent emotions until now. When someone else had an idea, she followed along with them. Now this was it, and she was stuck.

Suhara cried, hopeless and powerless. Her own stupid and childish ambition for magic had plunged the world into murky depths. She was trying, there was just nothing she could ever do. She wasn't even allowed to die.

Gallain was the most lonesome place in the world. Only motionless black trees stretched out to an untold distance. No other life flourished here. It was just like being in Theema's realm again, but this time Suhara was awake to dwell on her regrets.

The young girl sat sobbing for quite a while. Her cries echoed through Gallain, being the only sound that existed.

It took a while, but Suhara eventually noticed an odd feeling. Something was warm under her cloak, something at her waist. She propped herself up straight against the demon statue, and pulled out the heated object.

The demon root was shining... sort of. Actually, it was eating up the glow from the magic crystal, so light bent oddly around the wand. A shine of distortion, perhaps.

Suhara's bloodshot eyes widened, she hadn't felt the wand do this since she first transformed.

The demon root floated up, and began to move forth. The last time Suhara followed, it was ended terribly, but curiosity still consumed her. It almost beckoned for her to follow, so she did.

Through the dark and silent forest, Suhara trekked.

What awaited her seemed like nothing at first. The wand led her to a one of the many identical trees. There wasn't anything else.

Then the demon root elevated. Even with a distorted image, Suhara was still able to see it move under the glow of her light crystal.

The demon root fit perfectly against one of the broken stems.

Suhara's light crystal cracked, then went out. Blind again.

=+=+=

Theema lifted her head. The dark goddess's eyes flashed with purple light, her connection to Jaux still held firm. There was something wrong, though. She couldn't explain it, but she almost lost the tether that allowed her to stay in this world.

The goddess immediately shifted over to her empty realm. She stood where her vessel was supposed to be sealed, and found the same isolated darkness as before Jaux's arrival.

They had taken her vessel back. Theema was sure she just felt an attempt to snuff out her contractual bond.

Only one place came to mind, where they would have taken Jaux back to.

"Gather, my weapons," Theema called out.

It couldn't been seen under the lightless skies, but various monsters appeared behind the goddess in a veil of shadow.

It was time to conquer the Lyceum of Marlifa.

=+=+=

Suhara understood it, but it was beyond words. The feeling could be described as instinct, but the instinct of another entity visiting her mindscape.

Her demon root came from this, a much more powerful mystic flora.

The tree understood, in some way. Not as people between one another, but as aliens who discovered a language they shared.

All the experiences with the demon root now filled the tree, and their magic twisted together in a dance.

Theema's divine power still existed upon the magical tattoos. The infinite magic of soul couldn't be stolen even by a demon statue. Still, enough magic was drawn out to make an opening. A small space to slip inside.

The true power of the dark goddess existed in Suhara's arm, but only one. The other arm was nearly empty. That was where the new magic took hold.

Trees never named themselves, but there was still a way to address them. The identity of Suhara's demon statue, of her source, was like a giant bell resonating beneath the waves. A slow tone, but with a bright and cherry sound. Peaceful could be the word.

Doon.