Nathan closes the door behind him the immediately freezes. There is someone watching TV in his living room. A very brief inspection reveals Gwahin’s lively aura.

Bismarck comes with a meow and bumps against his leg with the strength of a small battering ram.

“Your cat is extraordinary dear host. Do you know that he tried to challenge me?”

“Did he really?”

“Yes, although an agreement was quickly reached when he felt I was not an intruder.”

Nathan stares at Bismarck thoughtfully. A guard cat? Huh.

Bismarck stares at the paper bags in Nathan’s hand thoughtfully. Smart cat.

“You are alive and you do not exude despair, therefore I assume that your expedition was successful and that you rescued your friend… But wait.”

Nathan drops the bags in the kitchen and shoves the cold stuff in his fridge with a total disregard for proper fridge organization. Gwahin enters the kitchen and sniffs the air with a predatory look. Black and gold eyes turn to him.

“You are hurt! How could you!”

Nathan ignores the fact that she has grown a few inches since yesterday and raises a placating hand.

“Shower first. Explanations later.”

“I should perhaps remind you what your status as a host entails in term of duties and…”

“There is a small brewery around here that makes artisanal mead and I got you a bottle since you mentioned libation and such.”

“Nevermind Nathan Mordred Turner you are doing well. Where are the glasses?”

“Behind you, upper shelf. You don’t want to drink it in the skull of your enemies or something?”

“Alas I first need to rebuild my collection, and gather river stones big enough to cover the orbits.”

Nathan smiles at the joke and climbs the stairs to his bedroom.

That was a joke right?

“Two of them? And four in total? Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure yeah.”

“There is no need to be sarcastic dear host. Any more of that meat jerky? Thank you. Two of them is unheard of.”

“Can I ask why? Do you still need fertilizer?”

“Let us cut to the chase, I will act as your really good friend and answer all of your questions and in return, you will carry all those fertilizer bags in your car to my tree as soon as it is convenient. Yes?”

“How did you know?!”

“I am old and wise and smart. “

“And modest.”

“Indeed. Also! You should stock up on those honey covered nuts, you can thank me later. Ask away!”

Nathan lets his eyes slide on the paper strewn, food covered mess that his living room table has become, and wonders of it is a valid metaphor for his life. Gwahin is snarfing food with speed and gusto, no longer bothering to hide her nightmarish teeth. One of her eyes sometimes wanders to look at the TV, set on a nonstop news channel. The other stares in his soul beneath an arched brow. He sighs.

“Alright. How are four Varogs unusual?”

“This will be a long one. Let me give you a short summary of world’s history related to magic. Oh yes, first, what is magic. It is the fabric that binds physical reality and thought. Intent. Whatever sentient creatures capable of enough abstraction to define concepts have. Some creatures that are not capable of abstraction can still use some aspects of it by instinct but they are the exception. Magic is the link between everything, it exists everywhere and ultimately obeys no rule but that of intent. Intent affects the world literally through magic. We Yol call it the flow, and manipulating it is called weaving. This definition is true for us, and other species have other definitions, that are true for them, and because of the flow’s very nature all versions are true. “

“Wait would that not limit you? I mean, if you define something as true then you limit yourself to it right? If you say it’s true you cannot, say, move a stone with your thought but the other species says you can, then you can’t and they can, right?”

Gwahin’s eyes glint with amusement.

“You are a worthy pupil. Sometimes. Your point is valid and leads to this fortunate corollary. Even though the flow is without limit, sentients are not. Your own intent, your will, can only carry you so far and the rest comes from training and… Affinity. Surely you have realized that I am bound to what you think of as nature. Yes?”

“Um. Yes?”

“And so I can weave the flow of those things that are related with nature with ease, because I understand them and I have, for lack of a better term, affinity. Similarly, fire scares me and I would be hard pressed to use it because it goes contrary to my nature. I would be pushing my will against both magic and myself. Even if I have affinity with something, I can only push it so far because magic is a link and a force, reality is still reality and I am a thing of flesh, I grow tired and I fail. So do all sentient things yes?”

“I don’t know, do they?”

“They do.”

“Ok. So why do I not know about magic. I think people would have noticed fireballs. For that matter I think people should have noticed the Yol, and the Varogs. And dragons and stuff.”

Gwahin unexpectedly shivers.

“Do not speak of Dragons.”

“They exist?”

“I… Do not know. To go back to your previous question, there was a time millennia ago when magic was abundant, or so it was told to me. Then something happened. We Yol do not remember what. Magic mostly left the world and entities that depended on it had to make a choice: adapt and stay, leave, or die. I know that before, we did not have to bind our existences to trees and that Yol lived in big communities. Now we are scattered, hidden and isolated, for there is too little of the flow to allow large groups to sustain themselves. Varogs mixed with the human population and went dormant. Only a few would manifest and remember what they are, and those would quickly be hunted. Four Varogs together is unheard of. It appears, that the flow is waxing.”

“Wait, what? How do you know?”

“There are places where the flow grows stronger and it first I thought this forest was it but… No. The flow has become more powerful. Slowly, but surely. There is also the Varogs all waking up at the same time. And there is you.”

“Me?”

“A human who can weave without being taught, and with such affinity. You remember those hunters I mentioned? Those are humans who can weave. They are different from you. They have to be taught, to be shown, and they have to congregate in places of power in order to weave. Their magic is a cold one, a thing of logic and reason. You though, are different. You weave by instinct, and this could not happen unless the flow is growing again. Even if you are a born weaver”

“That sounds weird, there should be people who should be able to weave by instinct. That should depend on people, not the flow.”

“You are correct in saying that weaving abilities depend on people, but as I mentioned it also depends on intent. Those who can weave instinctively are exceedingly rare and even those that can do not believe in it. Therefore, they do not weave. Even in places of power where they might feel something, they will not believe they can. It is only natural for your species. You have a strong sense of logic.”

“So that’s it? Humans are all magic wielders who are out of magic?!”

“No, as I said, you need affinity, which is rare in humans, and you also need practice.”

“Alright so those humans who can already weave, where are they and how do I find them?”

“They should already be here, I do not know much of hunters save that they intervene fast if they find out about a Varog. I am not sure that you should go look for them.”

“Why?”

“Well for one if they find out that I live with you they will come and try to kill me. All magic creatures are kill on sight for them.”

“What the fuck?!”

“Precisely. You are also an unknown and a free weaver. They might not take it kindly.”

“Would they not try to recruit me? Not that I want to join a group that kills Yols on sight but…”

“I am going to be prosaic Nathan Mordred Turner, but when I say not kindly I mean they will get medieval on your ass with white hot irons, whips and agony weavings.”

“Right.”

Nathan stares into Gwahin’s molten gold eyes. As if sensing his mistrust she bares herself. Warm power rushes over him , vivid and alive and stronger than before. Gwahin feels better than she used to, even if there is still a hint of loneliness in her aura. What gathers most of Nathan’s attention though is a strange realization.

“You… You cannot lie?”

“No.”

Nathan licks his lips.

“You cannot lie but you can tell part of the truths.”

“I am sure that if the hunters get their hands on you, you will be treated as a threat to them, and that is before they learn that you have given hospitality to a non human.”

“Ok so let me summarize: magic is stronger, for some reason. There are still at least two Varogs around and they can probably find out we killed two of them. Human magic users have gone somewhere and even if they had not they would be hostile. So. I need resources.”

“I am afraid so dear host, and while I can now offer some manner of protection while you are here, as long as you step into the city you are fair game.”

Gwahin has a good poker face but Nathan knows she is leading him somewhere, to something. Then it dawns on him. There is only one conclusion that she would drive him forward to by telling him this situation.

“About that boon. Can a Yol teach a human how to weave?”

The smile on gwahin’s face is bone-chilling.

“Why Nathan Mordred Turner, I thought you would never ask.”