A Ghost and a Boy

by **Keene Ward** on January 24th, 2015, 11:15 pm

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The fifty-first day of winter, 514 AV

"Why'd you do that?"

Wilhemina's incessant questions had begun to wear on Keene's patience. She seemed to find interest in every little thing he did, and the moment he tried to turn the conversation around into a further investigation of the wizard's name, lab, and intent, Wilhemina would immediately grow dour and tart, refusing to answer and forcing more and more answers out of him. He found her curiosity odd, as the majority of her questions he answer with the same three words of "I don't know". If her voracity for learning was being sated by his fairly lacking answers, Keene wasn't sure whether he was over estimating Wilhemina or underestimating his replies. He was beginng to lean towards the prior. "To cut the tree."

"Why didn't you use an axe?" The child bobbed above the fallen tree, staring down at the wind made cut with wide eyes as she poked at it, her ghostly fingers passing through.

"I don't have an axe." He'd never had to talk so much in his life over a short period of time, and he found his tone was much more difficult to control when he had to use it ever other chime. Thus, his irritation showed through more than it usually did, the softness of his voice sounding a bit more forced than usual. To top things off, Keene was absolutely certain the winds had feelings. A particularly interested swirl of a breeze had taken a liking to Keene's air reimancy, and had danced around his hands as he'd moved the res, but had now begun to tousle his hair by making continual passes at him. As Wilhemina began to ask the inevitable "why" and the little breeze mustered itself to rush back at him, Keene let out a sharp "Enough." It didn't stop the wind from rolling over him, but it did seem to give it the impression it was time to move on. Wilhemina, on the other hand, turned watery eyes tinged with insult at him before setting her back to him and crossing her arms. He waited for a few ticks, wondering in the peaceful silence. When Wilhemina did not turn round to speak again, Keene drew out another handful of res to chop up the rest of the wood.

He had found that manipulating several spinning blades of invisible force was not only something that had come easier over the course of repeating the spell over and over to slice firewood, but it also was a time saver. Separating the ball of res into three smaller collections, Keene began the process of rotating them faster and faster at a constant rate, his fingers twitching to gesture the required acceleration. Once he was content, he allowed the range of attraction to move slightly beyond the filmy blue layers of the res blades, pulling in the air into a soft hiss. Pushing the forward, he spaced them evenly, pushing the top most more forward and scaling it down to the bottom. As he turned to face the partially chopped tree, Keene moved his hands forward, the push against an invisible force pressing back against his mind as the blades dug into the wood. They broke through one by one, depositing the logs slightly behind before he twisted his wrists to pull them back into their starting positions and begin again.

He continued for two more passes before allowing the wind to peter out, drawing the little res that was left back through the tips of his fingers as the lightheadness hit him. He slipped down to the ground, a fluid motion to keep him grounded as the effect made his head spin for a few ticks. Wilhemina looked back at him with a satisfied vindication for a moment, but when Keene turned to regard her, she returned to her sultry pout and looked in the opposite direction. Drawing in steady breaths as he looked at the small collection of wood, Keene let the quiet of the island sink in. He realized it had been a good while since he'd been able to enjoy the true silence, the gentle hush of the world. He felt the breeze against him once more, the curiosity faded into a strange repetition of the stillness as it drifted over him. He let his hand rise to allow the breeze to pass between his fingers, a small tingle running from his fingertips to his chest. It was a pleasant sensation paired with the lightness from the reimancy, and as it passed, Keene felt slightly mentally refreshed. He turned to the morose back of his ghostly companion with a shallow sigh. "I don't have an axe because I never bothered to get one."

Wilhemina didn't seem to respond, but Keene saw little reason to worry about it. He had given her the answer she'd been looking for, and had no intention of giving her anything else. She didn't follow his internalized understanding of social law, which made interactions with her all the more frustrating. However, he supposed on terms of strict value of information, he valued what she had yet to say enough to offer a myriad of lesser information to gain access to it. In a way, it was a clever way to "play the game", but he was growing tired of it; he also doubted Wilhemina did it with what he supposed was a clever intent, rather choosing to just ask her incessant questions for the sake of conversation that neither of them truly benefited from. The wooziness having passed, Keene rose to gather up the wood and bundle it into the rope-net contraption. A gentle rush of air pulled its way through the trees to offer him a crisp reminder that the island's climate was not nearly as immune to the cold as he had imagined. It was still humid enough, but the temperature had dropped enough for snowfall on the mountain above.

"Wouldn't an axe be safer?" Wilhemina had floated closer, peering over his shoulder to watch him set the wood into the netting in a precise stack. There was a strange concern in her voice, something Keene felt was not necessarily directed at him but the idea of safety in general.

As he finished tying the bundle up and slipping his arms through the loops to carry it as a more manageable bundle, Keene turned to the child and frowned. "I suppose it would be."

She returned the frown, apprehension clear on her features. "Magic is dangerous."

Keene nodded, shifting the back by squirming his shoulders into a more comfortable position. "It is." Wilhemina kept quite for a while after, pensive silence nearly palpable as she drifted behind him. Letting the child ruminate on whatever concerns she held regarding the qualities of magic, Keene proceeded to head back towards the cavern, keeping an eye out for any of the Waat's Nest that was more or less the only thing in forms of food that he could forage for the time being. He didn't particularly like the fungus, but it wasn't nearly as bad as the juniper berries. Keene had found he much preferred the strange mushrooms to the overpowering taste of evergreen the berries offered. His pace was slow, burdened by the weight of the fire wood as well as the gradually increasing slope of the mountain. There was still plenty of light left in the day, and as Keene stumbled around a mess of low growing brush, he figured the time was something he could use to start the physical exercise Atziri had suggested earlier in the season. While he had grown physically more fit, his strength was still something that was sorely lacking. A small shiver ran down his spine as he remembered the events that had sparked the discussion.

Once they had crested the final rise that led to the mouth of the cavern where his flint, steel, and candle sat patiently waiting for his return, Wilhemina darted ahead, planting herself squarely in the subjective middle of the area. She set her hands on her hips, and her face wore a very stern frown. "What makes magic dangerous?"

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by **Keene Ward** on January 25th, 2015, 1:04 am

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Keene blinked, unsure how to respond. He knew magic to be an incredibly powerful force. Power without control was, in essence, danger; the propensity for something to go wrong weighed against just how wrong it could go. He didn't know how to state it in a sway that made sense outside of his mind, however, as it was one of the many abstract understandings he had arrived at through his own years of observation and introspection. There was nothing about magic that he found to be the specific reason for it being dangerous, rather all the parts joined together to create a cohesive unit of danger. He took a fair amount of ticks before he replied, his eyes set on the searching glow of Wilhemina's gaze - for once she seemed relatively patient, if not apprehensive. "It is powerful." He supposed, at its root, power was the main reason magic was so dangerous. The child nodded, chewing on her bottom lip as she mulled over what he had said. She didn't seem to be reaching any conclusions any time soon, but Keene preferred the ghost sit and think awhile. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed the quiet until it had been taken from him. A small pang ripped through his chest at the parallelism between his appreciation for the quiet and for Boswell.

He bit down against the rising emotion, shaking his head and pressing it back down as he headed towards the candle. Moving around the still pensively stationary ghost, Keene smacked the rocks together until a spark eventually lit the wick. Taking it up, Keene headed into the mouth of the tunnel, letting the child mull over what he had said as his boots hit the ground with a slightly heavier plod. Once he was inside the flickering walls of the main cavern, Keene stooped down, leaning back to slip the ropes from his shoulders. Rising, he used his free hand to massage the areas that the rope had bit into. They rarely bled as they had the first few times he'd gathered wood, but the chaffing was almost unavoidable. If there were a way to do it, he was not yet aware of the how. Padding over to the table, Keene set the candle on it, taking a handle of the almonds Atziri had left out for him and popping them into his mouth. It had been a long time since he'd had bread or cheese, and as he stared into the flickering wick of the candlelight, he tried to think about what they tasted like.

Bread had been soft; sometimes grainy depending on the quality. Cheese had had a bite to it, a sharper flavor rather than the earthy palate of nuts and berries. He couldn't remember the tastes exactly, however, which made him wonder if he missed the foods or simply was in a nostalgic mood. His thoughts were broken by Wilhemina's voice drifting from behind him. "Magic is dangerous 'cause it powerful?"

Keene turned, startled but not enough for fear to grip him. He gave her a frown. "No."

Wilhemina mirrored Keene's expression. "But you said."

He shook his head, "I said it was powerful."

The ghost let out an exasperated sigh as she set a glare on him. "Then why'd you say that?"

Keene blinked. "Because it's true."

Wilhemina moaned as if the exchange was causing her actual pain. "So why's magic dangerous?"

"Because it's powerful."

Wilhemina's frown set in deeper. "And?"

Keene raised a curious brow. "And it's difficult to control." He paused; the reply ran itself back over his mind, and he shook his head, "It is impossible to control."

The child's brow knit more, but her frown lessened some. "But you do it."

Shaking his head again, Keene calmly corrected her. "I try to do it."

Wilhemina's face remained resolute. "What's the difference?"

Keene ran a hand through his hair, his frown deepening. "Why are you so interested in this?"

She didn't reply. Keene waited for a chime before moving over to the sand pit, kneeling down to remove his boots and socks. Wilhemina followed, but she remained silent. As he stepped into the sand, he flexed his toes against it, getting a feeling for the smooth consistency of the earth below him. He moved out into the center of the area, squatting down to place his hands out in front of him and press his weight over them. Lowering himself, he let his chest brush the ground before pushing himself up back to the original position. It was a difficult task, and he was only able to repeat the process thrice more before he let his knees press against the ground to relieve his arms of the weight. Atziri had given him two exercises to alternate between for the time being, as there was little else he could do without first developing some sort of workable base. So after a brief moment of rest, Keene shifted himself onto his back, legs tucked in front of him, and proceeded to lift his chest to his immobile knees using only his abdominal muscles. He was better that this and managed quite a few before he left himself rest on the ground, gazing up at the jumping glean of the candle's light against the smooth obsidian.

"I could do magic." The words drifted over him, and he wiggled to a seated position to regard the child. She had not given much indication that she remembered the night he'd killed her, other than the fact that he had done so. Wilhemina didn't meet his eyes, but neither did she flit away. "I could do it and then..." She stared at him, her frown a curve of sadness that matched the sombre glow of her eyes. "You can control it. I couldn't." Keene's frown was much more pensive as he regarded her, his eyes searching her face for any further indication as to what might have happened.

"There is no true control over magic."

Wilhemina shook her head. "That's not what he said."

Keene's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

For a moment, it seemed as if Wilhemina was going to reply. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came; nor did it appear to have been her intent. Instead, she just shook her head and drifted down through the floor to disappear to where ever it was she went when she was not around. Keene stared at the place she had occupied only moments before, but the empty room offered no answers. It had been a man then, or at least the body of a man. While not that much closer in learning the identity of the wizard responsible, Keene had made progress. Whether the progress had had anything to do with how he handled the child, Keene had little idea. Instead of worrying about it, he repositioned himself for another short round of push-ups, reasoning the child would tell him when she was ready. There was little he could to do force it out of her, and there was little reason to do so, as the information would do nothing more than link a name and a face to a deed. He could take no action against any of the island while he was under the Wardens, nor did he intend to do anything violent with the information. As he lowered himself to the ground once more, Keene considered the potential ways he might go about dealing with the wizard in the distant future. Torture, while something he was sure might prove satisfying, seemed the most obvious and frivolous course. He wanted something more.

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by **Keene Ward** on January 25th, 2015, 4:15 am

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By the time Wilhemina returned, Keene had removed his shirt and was coated in a thin, grimy layer of sand. He'd completed several rounds of sit-ups and push-ups and had begun to sweat profusely under both the effort and the heat of the cavern. When she drifted over him, he had just finished attempting to pull his chest to his legs with failure as a result, and lay panting on the ground. Gazing down at him, she tilted her head. "What are you doing?

It seemed whatever break he might have had into the more meaningful bits of information the child possessed had been covered up by her hiatus. Keene let his breathing calm some before he replied, his voice a bit breathy from his body's craving of air. "Strengthening."

"Strengthening what?"

Keene raised a brow. "My body."

Wilhemina giggled, dipping down under the sand to pop up behind him. "Ew. Why?"

"Ew?" Keene's uncomprehending echo was directed at the ceiling as he let his legs straighten out, shaking them some to address the strain from their held position. "To get stronger." He wasn't sure what sort of answer she was looking for. Atziri had told him he needed to be stronger if he were going to survive. Magic alone wasn't enough, and he didn't doubt her. His reimancy could only do so much before he grew too exhausted or pushed the limits too far. If he were to be a successful guardian of the island, it would require more than a handful of spells. A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered the events that had led up to Atziri's suggestion he begin the next stage of his training. While she was not aware of the details, she seemed to think physical conditioning paired with a close range form of defensive combat would serve him well. He saw no reason to object, and as such, had been training for a short while since then. Wilhemina, however, had not been privy to those discussions. Still, the simplicity of her inquires were enough that Keene had little desire to truly elucidate on anything she asked about in her foolish manner.

She seemed to pick up on Keene's apathy, pouting as he replied and making little move to further the conversation. Keene eventually rose up out of the sand, brushing what of it he could off of himself and padding over to the table where he'd left his water flask. Uncapping it and taking a few swigs, Keene stared at the specter. She seemed interested with the imprint he'd left in the "pit" and appeared not to care that his eyes were upon her. He didn't understand the reason behind her incessant questioning. It seemed that the questions and answers themselves were relatively unimportant with the exception of select lines of inquiry that - however seemingly important - all ended in a similar fashion of her disliking a reply and falling into silence for a bell or so. It was a pattern he was finding himself growing used to, and so he felt little need to further investigate the child's respite from her onslaught of questions.

Pulling the shirt back up over his head and dropping a few more almonds into his mouth, Keene re-laced his boots, sitting down in one of the chairs to accomplish the task. Once he was finished, he pulled the candle from the table and headed outside. Wilhemina followed behind him, her sultry silence hanging like a cloud over his shoulder. As they made their way back into the natural light, Keene lightly blew on the candle, snuffing the flame, before setting it beside the flint and steel. He had been planning to gather food on top of the firewood, but he'd left his backpack in his room and the light was already beginning to fade. Instead, he ambled down the slope in no particular direction, though the intention for patrol was clear enough.

They traveled in silence, little noise passing between them aside from the serene breeze that rustled through the empty branches of the trees above. Keene had begun to grow used to the whispers of emotions that rode the winds, they were different from those of humans, especially his own. The wind did not feel for lack of anything better, it felt because that's what it was. It was strange to come to that conclusion, as Keene had hardly stopped to think about the "feelings" of the winds before. With his mark, however, it was impossible to ignore them, so he had acceded to the fact that the winds truly did have emotions, whether he found it sensible or not. Most of the winds didn't stick around, passing over and carrying with them whatever secrets they held with a vast array of emotion. The most common, however, were the quiet ones, peaceful and austere in their travels. Keene found them them suitable to the island's nature, complementary and reflective.

So when he felt a rush of hot, agitated air rush over him, Keene's attention snapped towards the direction it had come from. The air around him hung heavy and thick, wary almost before it continued on its path. Wilhemina was oblivious to the subliminal, ethereal messages, and followed in the adjusted trajectory in her sultry pout. Keene, however, kept his wits about him, scanning the terrain ahead, peering between the twisted trunks of the junipers, searching for any sign of movement or unnatural phenomena. A soft whistle of wind was the only sound to break the steady, careful steps of Keene's feet as he continued. He could smell the apprehension of the weather, something that was both fascinating as well as foreboding. Then he saw it, a flick of a shadow in the distance, a snapping of twigs below. Crouching down, Keene readied himself for whatever lay ahead. He wanted to get a better idea of what it might be before charging in.

Noticing the change, Wilhemina drifted closer, her small whisper sounding to his left. "What's that?"

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by **Keene Ward** on February 10th, 2015, 2:58 am

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Before them stood a strange looking creature, mostly man but with aberrations enough to give it the appearance of something far more twisted. Its torso was elongated and near triangular, rising up from the waist like a bulwark, two gangling arms hanging from the bony shoulders. Its legs, however, were stubby, only a third of the length of the arms, causing the hands to drag along the ground as it shuffled between the trees. The rest of the details were obscured by the cover of the low hanging, gnarled bodies of the junipers that shielded most of it from view. Shaking his head at Wilhemina's question with a muted gesture, Keene refrained from answering her for the time being. There was little point in risking alerting the creature to his presence by stating "I don't know" when an absence of a reply was as effective. Instead, he crept over the ground, using both hands and feet to keep himself stabilized and as motionless as was possible considering he was moving. He moved only when the creature moved, unable to obscure the sound of his own motions, but able enough to at least mask his own with that of the thing before them.

It seemed too preoccupied with something else to notice Keene's advance, something he used to his advantage as he crept ever closer to gain a better understanding of just what the thing was. He watched the ground and his mark as he moved, avoiding the few sticks or brittle bits of brush that would make too much noise, though his footsteps were hardly muted. All the while, Wilhemina kept close to him, the chill of her soulmist tinging the hairs on the back of his neck where she drifted behind him, as quiet as the now still winds that had fallen into a heavy stillness. They had grown close enough that Keene could hear its voice as it shambled along and was able to examine its more subtle features. It spoke in a low, masculine timbre, mumbling unintelligible words as it tottered along, stabilizing itself with its arms when it wobbled too far to one side. While the creature's overall appearance was off-putting, the skin was strangely familiar in a sense. A small smoke or steam drifted off of its flesh, while the flesh itself was a sickly black blue. The regular hues of blood given life were entirely absent from the shambling beast, and there were sections near the bare skin of the back where the upper layer of skin seemed to have peeled back to reveal bones that had a similar appearance to ice or glass.

Keene didn't get much more time to observe, as he made the mistake of taking a step when the creature had paused. The sound of the dirt beneath his boot immediately drew the thing's attention, its body whipping around to reveal an impossibly tiny head with large, doe-like eyes and a trail of spittle dripping from its gaping, fish-like mouth. "Wazzit?!" The question was a roar, an unexpected burst of noise that sent Keene stumbling back several paces before he was able to conceal himself behind one of the trees. He could hear the thing heading in his direction, a rolling laugh as it gained speed. "Come et, flesh!" Finding his hiding spot ineffective and more dangerous than anything else, Keene darted from his cover, keeping his attention focused ahead of him. While the abomination was a threat, the last thing Keene wanted to do was trip and fall because he was too preoccupied with his enemy. The laughter quickly switched to a roar as it charged, swinging its arms like a gorilla, propelling it at an alarming speed. Wilhemina let out a shout of warning, which Keene responded to by rounding on the beast as he let his res pool in his hands.

Shoving both palms forward, spears of pale blue liquid shot forward, transmuting into a shimmer of ice as he snapped his fingers. To his surprise, the spell shattered against the creature's strange skin, the bits of ice flying in every direction, some of them ricocheting back towards Keene, biting into the exposed skin of his face and arms. Having wasted his chance at quickly dispatching the beast before it was upon him, Keene ducked and rolled out of the way as it charged by. The clumsy maneuver kept him from being trampled, but Keene had not had much time to gauge where it would take him. When he found the wind being knocked from his lungs as he collided with a tree, there was little he could do but scramble to his feet, gasping for air as the creature rounded on him once more. Having little faith in fighting with his preferred element, and no time to devise anything else, Keene forcefully exhaled a cloud of res as the beast let out a roar. With a flick of his wrist, the cloud erupted forward, the bluish gas becoming a howling gale to serve as a temporary distraction for Keene to retreat and find a better strategy.

All the while, Wilhemina had remained relatively quiet, fading into the background of Keene's attention as he scrambled around the trees, the lightheaded repercussions of a snap transmutation slowing his progress considerably. The thing behind him let out a frustrated shout as the gust knocked him backwards, but was quick to follow in pursuit. Having limited options, Keene continued to run, the snapping sound of wood behind him and the heavy, angry breathing of his pursuer keeping the adrenaline pumping through his system. It was then Wilhemina spoke, casually drifting beside him, unimpeded by the trees that passed through her as easily as the air. "Why's he so mad?" That was the question. Keene had no idea why the thing was so aggressive, the rumbling roars behind them only further illustrating both of their confusion. The abominations were dangerous enough without falling into a berserk rage. Keene shook his head, not wasting breath on a reply. He ducked under a hooked trunk, stumbling as he tried to straighten up. Before he knew it, he was falling through the air, ground coming ever closer to his face.

Atziri's words of instruction were quick to surface, reminding him to twist into the fall so that he rolled in a forwards somersault to land in a crouch facing the creature. With ice out of the question, Keene sent his res coursing out from his palms and along the earth, gritting his teeth in concentration, avoiding the very visceral images of what might happen should he not be able to control what was about to happen. With a jerk, Keene pulled his hands from the ground, directing the res to rocket upwards in a myriad of spikes. Instead of transmuting it into ice, however, Keene instead focused on the pattering of his heart, the licking dance of fire. In his minds eye, he saw the ground tremble and explode into a burst of flames. What happened, however, wasn't quite what he had been shooting for. The ground remained stoic, and as the res flared up, only sections of it popped into the pale bluish glow of a flame. The rest of the res fizzled, dissipating into harmless air. The few flames there were, however, did serve to singe the creature bursting through. While it wasn't enough to cause too much damage to anything, it did create a suitable enough diversion that Keene was able to push himself back to his feet and dart off in a different direction while the creature raged about getting the sparks in his eyes.

Wilhemina let out a little giggle as she followed behind him. "I think he's more mad now!"
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by **Keene Ward** on February 10th, 2015, 5:12 am

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Creating the fire had left a strange sort of feeling as he continued to run, his breath coming in gasps from the necessity of sprinting. His entire body felt hotter, almost agitated, as if there were a mess of ants beneath his skin that were burning to get out. Shaking the feeling off as much as he could, Keene ignored Wilhemina's comment. It had not been his intent to shove sparks into the thing's face, rather to immolate it in chains of flame and keep it from slaughtering him. Up to that point, however, Keene realized the only threatening thing about it was that it seemed to possess the ability to make his ice brittle and was remarkably fast. It carried with it no weapons, and while it was certainly taken over by rage, there was little else threatening about it. He didn't slow, however, as he was fully aware that things were rarely ever as they seemed on Savhoa. The terrain dipped, and Keene tumbled downwards because of it. The sudden increase in slope was too much for him to compensate for, but it didn't keep him from catching himself at the bottom with an awkward splay of his legs. As he did so, Keene let his res pool once more, the feeling of the drain on his djed much more noticeable.

The creature paused at the top of the rise, staring down at him with a grin. "Flesh. Hol' still." It held itself up on his hands and bent its knees. Wicked looking blades broke through the skin, turning its entire lower torso into a weapon. Blinking several times with a mix of disgust and tactical appraisal, Keene clapped his hands together and thrust them forward. The res responded, becoming a thin arrow of shimmering off-blue as it left his fingers to rocket towards the beast. It didn't seem intimidated by the spell at all, and instead started to lumber down the hill towards him, adding its own momentum to Keene's spell. Focusing on the res in front of him, Keene fixed in his mind what he wanted: hot, burning, devastation, destruction. When the res hit, it remained in his liquid state, splashing harmlessly against the grinning creature as it descended towards him. With a frustrated shout, Keene let his aggravation flare. The res responded, bursting into silvery blue flames in a wave of heat that slammed into Keene's face with a blistering force.

The creature let out a howl of surprise, flailing backwards as the fire bit into its strange flesh. Keene wobbled backwards, the burning bit of his own anger rising up in an uncontrollable fit. Without thinking, Keene swung his arm out at the beast, his own roar joining in with the creature's as his pale blue res sliced outwards, becoming a lash of flame that seared a bubbling line across the creature's torso. Hopping back, Keene's focus had been lost to the slightly reddened haze at the corners of his eyes, the desire to decimate the flailing mess of flesh and flame becoming all encompassing. Charging forward, Keene swung a punch and the burning mess, res exploding from his hand and crashing into the beast with an explosive burst of fire. He could hear voices in the back of his head, hissing threats and sneering jeers directed at the pathetic cries of the monster before him. More res. More fire. The thing had long since stopped moving, succumbing to the flames faster than a typical living creature might should have. Keene, however, continued his magical barrage, his control completely lost to the raging fire of his own soul.

It wasn't until he felt the chill of Wilhemina pulling at one of his arms that he realized what was happening. Her small voice was lost to the rage of the inferno before him, but her bone chilling cold was enough to draw him back to his senses. Blinking in surprise, Keene scrambled backwards and away from the smoking pyre. His head felt as if it were going to explode, and the pale glow of the flickering flames wasn't helping things. He found his lack of control extremely disconcerting, and as he stared at the flames, he gripped the rage tightly, reigning it in to keep him from wasting any more of his energies. He could already feel the tax of his over action in the pressure of his head, the sickness of his stomach, and the overwhelming weariness. While several of the trees had caught flame, he was relatively safe from burning to death, as most of the destruction had occurred in a narrow cone in front of him. Raising his hands to put pressure against his eyes in an attempt to alleviate the pain, he felt the soft chill of Wilhemina's presence to his right.

Peering through the break in his fingers, he regarded her with a weary gaze. The fear in her features was quite evident, and the moment she saw him looking at her, she dipped down into the ground, disappearing from sight. With an equally exhausted sigh as his features presented, Keene stumbled away from the pyre, making his way back towards the cavern. The light had begun to fade some, make the fire all the more noticeable, but Keene didn't have the strength, nor the will, to extinguish the flames. He'd ripped enough of his soul apart for the time being, the taste of blood incredibly apparent, and the soft whisper of the voices he'd been ignoring for the past few chimes after coming back into his sense were incessant. The "sweet whispers" had hardly been much of an issue to him in the past, as his control and dominance over his own mind allowed him to disregard them for the most part. It was rare for him to lose control, and the moment he'd done so, transmutation of fire had come as easy to him as breathing. It was, however, not something Keene was too intent upon replicating. If creating fire meant losing all control of himself, Keene wasn't sure it was worth the risk. He wondered if it had something to do with the way in which he'd first created flames, embracing who he wasn't but was to achieve it. It was possible his djed remembered the sensation of being mixed up, and the only time he could cast a spell of any magnitude involving the element required he find a similar state of turmoil.

Too tired to think upon the matter more, Keene eased himself onto the ground after making it a sizable distance from the fire, turning to his side to throw up onto the ground. The bitter taste of his bile helped ground him some, and as he rolled back to lean against a tree, he found his vision blur and fade to black only to return ticks later. He sat in his daze long enough for the light to fade into darkness, time passing despite Keene's lack of investment in it. When he was able to stand again, Keene wiped his face, spitting out what taste he could before stumbling once more back towards the cavern. The fire had settled into a dull glow, casting eerie shadows of the trees that obscured it over the way that Keene tread. As he blindly shuffled up to the plateau and the small glimmer of light from the cavern's mouth glowed on the horizon, Keene paused for a moment, gathering himself. He was going to have to get a tighter grip on himself if he was going to learn how to control his volatile new element. He wasn't about to just place it to the side and never use it again because of a single mishap, however he wasn't quite so adamant that he planned to incorporate it into his daily life. It was going to take training and practice, two things that Keene was familiar with enough that he was confident that the only matter of master would be when, not if.

Wilhemina drifted just off to the side of the cave, her glow illuminating the immediate area around her. Her features still read wary, but she ventured to speak as he let his eyes drift towards her. "Are you done?"

Keene blinked, taking a few ticks before replying. "For now. Yes."

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