The carriage remained stationary as Asrael pushed to hatch open. It thudded against the dirt road and through the wide opening; he could see the shadowy valley formed between the hillside and the never-ending, tall, black wall. But out there, where he had expected to see naught but red dust and glinting minerals; he saw something that made his jaw fall agape... an unending visage of green. Neda had seen it just as he had and approached the hatch with caution- hunched down as if ready for battle.

She hid behind Asrael’s back and whispered a silent, cautious; “W-what’s... what’s that? Is it dangerous? Is that why you’re looking at it like that?”

Tiring of her incessant questions, he could do naught but exhale deeply to signal his profound frustration. He stepped down the hatch and took a breath of the humid, cool air- relieved to feel that the dust tainting the atmosphere outside the mountain range was absent. He bent down to run his fingers through a patch of grass. It was real, however misplaced.

“Is that... is that grass!?” Neda screamed in excitement- then once more as she heard the booming echoes formed along the long valley. The questions rained down upon him as he strode down to look at the small, fat man as he unbuckled the horses from the carriage.

He glanced over his shoulder and whispered a; “I-I’m sorry, boss, but the fellas are hungry...” On the off chance the spell would fail on the horses; Asrael contained himself from inscribing them and subsequently murdering the rest of his companions. If his memory served him; the city of Pilta was still a ways off from the wall and the horses had worked tirelessly for weeks on end by this point- a feat only Blight-bred creatures could ever be capable of. Though it pained him to do so... he had to admit to there being some merit in allowing the pause.

As the horses and the camel grazed on the patches of grass next to their slumbering driver, the magus wandered along the wall and studied the intricate carvings in the black, mysterious material. Behind him; the wide-eyed, open-mouthed, disbelieving wildling girl followed in silence as he went on; “Hundreds of murologists spent their entire lives transcribing these runes, but not a one ever made any significant progress in finding out what spell they form. In fact; they found little to nothing from their so-called ‘studies’, despite thousands of years of ceaseless funding.” He scoffed.

Neda touched the wall and let her fingers trace the intricate patterns. The cool, black stone seemed to hum with power- a hum that made her stomach flutter the same way casting her magic did.

The necromancer joined her in touching the runes and frowned up at the endless barrier. “Curiously; despite their tireless transcriptions, I am told that they never once found a repeating rune. Every part of this wall is as unique as the next.” She struggled to understand how large this straight line of wall must be in order for it to curve around anything. Next; she looked to Asrael as he bent down to pluck a blade of grass from the ground and eye it with a studying gaze.

He mumbled to himself; “The wall is supposed to keep the magic inside the Empire... nothing ever grows outside- it cannot... yet it does.” Mirroring his movements; Neda bent down and picked a blade of grass of her own. She had never felt something like it in her hand- slick, clean and humid.

Hoping to impress her companion; she mustered the courage to ask him another question- one regarding his beloved magics. “Hey... if this has magic in it... can I recover mine from eating this?”

He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow and nodded; “Yes. That is how we recover magic- either passively through the air or actively by drinking or eating magic-rich substances. Optimally; you would find something rich in your magic, but in your case; the air should be sufficient.”

He dropped the grass and scratched his chin. If grass grew here, then it seemed the atmosphere was thick enough with power that she would feel a difference- she should feel a difference. He raised a finger and ordered her; “Express your magic. Do whatever tomfoolery you attempted back in the camp.”

She seemed uneased by the command. She had, in a moment of wrath; attempted to choke him with her loose hold on this curse of hers. Even at the time; Neda had known the foolishness of her attempts, but on the off chance she could muster the strength to kill him, she had to try.

“Do it!” He shouted- startling her enough to take a step back.

She shook her head and denied his order with a; “N-no... what if it works? What if I end up killing you?”

He closed his eyes and let loose a growl from his frown. “Your concern is unnecessary. Your weakness aside; I do not need to respirate. Now; either obey my command or I will slam your head into this wall until you do.” Her frown dragged sideways towards her cheek as she hesitantly raised her hand towards the sour necromancer. The air did feel different here- thicker, more responsive than back at the village. She closed her eyes and felt the familiar tingle traverse her flesh- staring from the depths of her stomach until it reached her fingertips. From there; she felt her reach extend beyond her skin- through the air and across the distance between them.

Asrael could not see the magic, but could feel something shift in the atmosphere surrounding his head. It was slight, but definitively a manifest phenomenon, as it seemed the viscosity before his face was increasing. He reached up and ran his hand through the thick pocket of air and verified his suspicions; the girl had a semblance of control over the elements, however weakly.

“I...” She grunted. Her tan face was already turning purple with the strain. He felt the pocket dissipate and quickly barked out; “I did not tell you to stop! Continue!” The astounding focus from earlier returned to her already glazing eyes. She was struggling to remain conscious- scintillating in and out of consciousness as she continued to channel her magics to the pocket of air before his face.

Asrael was staunch in many of his beliefs, but above all; he held the value that anyone- be they man or woman, should at least be capable of caring for themselves. Therefore; when the girl finally expended herself to the point she could no longer stand, he took a step sideways as to not break her fall and watched as her forehead slammed loudly into the black barricade. His genuine bemusement was rare, but as he saw her flop helplessly to the ground; he could not help but televise his entertainment with a brief flicker of a grin. She heaved, huffed and puffed in her pile on the soft, cushioning grass- her consciousness having receded deep into the back of her being. Leaning down; he brushed the hair away from her face and touched her warm, paling cheek- excited to feel that her tissues were still brimming with energy. Whoever- whatever this creature was... it had potential.