The new day dawned and Azrael groaned. He didn’t want to get up. However, unfortunately for him, the sun’s first rays shone straight into his cave from the east, preventing him from falling asleep again.

Awake, but unwilling to leave his bed he stared at the ceiling. It was blank grey stone, completely unremarkable. He thought about yesterday, his eyes tracing the grooves in the rock. Was he too hasty? Did he really think he was going to get magic just like that? Was he missing something?

Azrael looked away from the stone and pushed himself up onto his elbow. It was probably a ‘yes’ to all of those questions. A thought flickered through his mind, important, but barely there. He looked up at the ceiling. Stone…

stone…

stone and magic…!!

A MAGIC STONE!!!

Azrael slapped his forehead. Of course! He pushed himself out of bed, grabbing his spear and literally hurling himself out of the cave, only to land in an awkward running sprint as his muscles still sore from the fight struggled to catch his weight.

Yesterday, when he’d been butchering the wolf, he’d been so busy focusing on the fact that he now actually had food that he’d completely forgotten a staple of any fantasy game. Beasts, or magic beasts would often have mana stones, or beast cores. And just like a newbie he’d thrown anything that wasn’t the meat, fur and a few teeth and bones into a hole and buried it.

He sprinted through the forest, several small branches whipping against his bare legs. A few times he almost stumbled in his haste, but soon he reached the lake. He dropped his spear and hurried to Where he remembered burying it. Please be here…Please!

He scanned the ground, his eyes flicking back and forth, soaking up every small detail, every clue. He found the patch and began digging, pulling up handfuls of dirt, bone and bloody offal. He dug deeper, searching. Here and there were still small scraps, mixed in with the dirt, but soon he reached the bottom of the hole without finding it. However, none of what he’d found was what he was looking for. Azrael despaired.

Was it not here, buried or lost by his mistake, or was he just wrong and it didn’t exist, clutching at straws in a desperate bid to gain magic? He dropped to the ground at the lake’s edge, about to give up, when he saw it. There, just under a bit of dirt, half buried, was what he was looking for; a small purple crystal, no bigger than his eye. Carefully he stepped in, extracting it from its resting place. He looked at it. It really was tiny, its shape like two rough cones glued together.

Azrael sat in his cave, the smell of cooked meat all that was left of a rushed breakfast. In his hand he cradled the mana stone. Yesterday, he realised, he’d been going about it all wrong. He didn’t need to make spells yet, he didn’t need to learn how to control arcane forces. Before all of that he needed to learn to feel mana. And right now, he had a crystallised lump of mana in his hands. That was if his guess was right.

He settled into a comfortable seated position and closed his eyes. Unlike yesterday he didn’t suppress his thoughts, instead holding the stone and concentrating on his breathing.

In, out, in, out. He felt his breath flow into his nose, travelling down to fill his lungs.

In, out, in, out, he felt his heartbeat in his chest.

In, out, in, out, he felt his blood flowing through his body.

Further and further he kept sinking deeper into this stillness. It was warm, like soft shadows, or the first memories of a mother’s womb. Azrael felt himself sinking down, free, weightless.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been floating, but something changed. In the infinite void there was something else. Azrael’s eyes flashed open, his excitement jolting him out of his mediative state. His heart was beating fast and his hands trembled. There was something there. He was sure of it.

The sun was setting behind the mountains by the time Azrael stopped. Despite his best efforts he had been unable to enter that same state again.

His excitement caused all his thoughts to tumble over one another, preventing him from finding inner peace. His stomach grumbled and he set the magic stone aside on a safe little ledge in the cave.

Licking his dry lips Azrael checked at his fire, but it had long since burnt out, leaving only ashes and a few coals. He turned to check his wood stash. It was barely enough to start the fire, let alone last long enough to cook his dinner with. He groaned as he rose, his body complaining at the unexpected movement after a day of stillness. It seemed he would have to go out to grab a drink and gather more wood.

Making use of the last few minutes of day light Azrael grabbed his spear and jogged to the lake for a drink. He felt his legs protesting after a day of inactivity. Excluding the accelerated healing, it seemed his avatar was really out of shape… not that he was much better in real life.

Drinking out of his cupped hands he looked up. The lake was calm, a light wind barely ruffling the surface, as the waterfall thundered down hundreds of meters. He sat back content. This was his, his forest, his lake. He missed not being able to share this with his old guild mates, but… he shook the thought from his head. They were gone now. He’d left them.

The forest stretched out along the lake’s edge beside him. Maybe he would take some time to explore it tomorrow.

Rising, he left the shore with a short glance back. Maybe he would even try to explore the far side tomorrow. He didn’t really want to take a break from his magic meditation, but tomorrow he would need to take a break anyway to collect more firewood. Maybe find something else edible and make some basic cutlery and crockery. It would be nice to have a way to store water at the cave, instead of having to walk to the lake every time.

He looked down. And make some clothes. For some reason it’d slipped his mind, but he’d been buck naked since he lost his grass skirt in the fight. With his priorities planned out he headed back, gathering kindling along the way.