"Come," Trazathine said, his voice gentle. "I have questions of my own, and you have many more, I imagine. Let us walk, and I will show you what Valcera has to offer."

  She blinked, realizing they had been standing there longer than she thought. Minutes? Hours? Her sense of time had shifted, becoming fluid in this impossible place.

  He began moving through the forest, and Clara found herself following almost automatically, her legs moving without conscious decision. The ground beneath her feet was soft, carpeted with moss and fallen leaves, and each step felt purposeful, as if the forest itself was guiding her path.

  "This shouldn't be possible," she said, more to herself than her new acquaintance. The words came out shaky, uncertain. "One moment I was walking through familiar woods, and the next, I'm here."

  Trazathine's expression grew thoughtful as they walked. "Realm crossing is rare. The barriers between worlds are not easily breached, even for those who know how." He glanced at her, and there was a callousness in his eyes that made her shiver. "Since you did not do this intentionally, it must have been by chance, or purpose. A weakness in the veil between worlds, perhaps, or something else guiding you here."

  Clara's head spun with the implications. "So I might never get back home?"

  "I did not say that," Trazathine replied, though his voice held no promise. "But for now, here you are, in a land of magic. And magic, as you will learn, is not always kind to those who do not understand it." He stopped and turned to face her fully. "I can guide you for a while, so that you won't fall victim to the first angry beast you encounter. This forest is relatively safe, but Valcera as a whole is a dangerous place for the unprepared."

  "Thank you," Clara said, and she meant it. Despite her reservations, she was beginning to realize how completely lost she would be without his help. "Why are you being so kind to me?"

  Trazathine's smile was enigmatic. "Hospitality matters, especially to my kind. And you present something I have never encountered before." He reached out, and his fingers hovered just above her shoulder without touching. "Most mortals who find their way here bear the marks of previous dealings. That's not the case with you. I find it fascinating."

  He turned and continued walking, and Clara followed, her mind racing. "And you are in my domain," he added over his shoulder. "I would be a poor host indeed if I did not see to your needs."

  He led her through the trees, and as they walked, Clara couldn't help but notice how the forest seemed to respond to Trazathine's presence. Where he stepped, flowers bloomed more vibrantly. Branches shifted overhead to provide better light. Small creatures, birds with feathers like gemstones, squirrels with antlers, things she had no name for, peeked out from hiding places, their eyes curious but unafraid.

  "Does it always respond to you like this?" Clara asked, gesturing at a tree branch that was ever so slightly leaning toward them.

  Trazathine didn't look back, but she heard the smile in his voice. "I am its guardian. It recognizes me, as I recognize it."

  They emerged into a meadow that took Clara's breath away. Wildflowers grew in patterns that looked practically intentional, forming spirals and geometric shapes in colors that dazzled the eye. In the center of the meadow stood a tree so massive that Clara felt like an ant beside it. Its trunk was wider than she was tall, and its branches spread out in every direction, each one large enough to walk on.

  But what really caught her attention were the mushrooms. They grew in a spiral pattern up the trunk, forming what unmistakably resembled a staircase. The ones at the base were the size of a coffee table. As they climbed higher, they grew smaller, until they reached a platform made of thick, interwoven branches high up in the canopy.

  "Do trees naturally grow like this here?" Clara asked, her voice filled with wonder.

  Trazathine stopped and looked up at the tree with something akin to affection. "Not naturally, no. I shape them." He raised a hand, and Clara watched in fascination as a nearby sapling started to lean toward him, its branches reaching out like a child seeking approval. "I guide the growth of all things here, from the blades of grass beneath our feet to the birds that nest above us. Every tree, every flower, every creature. It is my duty to protect and tend to this forest, and it responds to my will."

  As if to demonstrate, he placed his palm against the massive tree's trunk. Immediately, the bark began to glow with that same soft green light she'd seen before, and small flowers bloomed around his hand. The tree itself seemed to sigh, branches rustling in a way that gave the impression of contentment.

  Clara's heart hammered in her chest. The raw power on display was frightening. This was more than mere magical spells. It was something deeper, a fundamental bond between Trazathine and the forest itself.

  "Follow," Trazathine said, and began climbing the mushroom staircase. Clara hesitated for a moment. The mushrooms looked sturdy, but they were still mushrooms. She stepped onto the first one cautiously. To her surprise, they were completely solid beneath her feet, their surface more akin to stone than fungi. The ascent was easier than she expected, and as they climbed higher, the view of the meadow below took her breath away.

  The platform at the top was larger than she'd thought, easily the size of a small apartment. Branches had been woven and guided to form walls, a roof of living leaves, and even furniture. A table grew from the floor itself, its surface smooth and polished. Chairs were formed from living wood, their backs shaped like Art Nouveau designs.

  "Sit," Trazathine said, and Clara did, sinking into a chair that was oddly comfortable despite being made of living wood.

  He sat across from her and reached into a pouch at his belt. When his hand emerged, he was holding a stone that caught the light in impossible ways. It was amber in color, but as Clara looked closer, she saw it shift through shades of gold and honey, with flecks of deeper colors that moved beneath the surface. A faint glimmer emanated from within it, pulsing gently in a slow rhythm.

  Trazathine tossed it across the table to her, and Clara caught it carefully. The moment her skin touched it, a jolt went through her, not painful, but strange, a feeling of static electricity combined with warmth.

  "That is a source stone," Trazathine said, watching her reaction closely. "Or magical affinity source stone, as humans tend to call it. It is how mortals like yourself gain access to magical talents and abilities."

  Clara stared at the stone, mesmerized. It was warm in her palm, and she could swear it was humming, a vibration so subtle she might have imagined it. Magic? Affinity? Had she really woken up inside a realm of magic?

  Trazathine watched her studying the stone. “You're wondering what it does.”

  Clara looked up from the stone, meeting his eyes.

  “The one you are holding is attuned to preservation,” Trazathine said. “Not protection, as many assume. Preservation is quieter. More stubborn.”

  “It resists change,” he continued, “of any kind: decay, rupture, transformation. It convinces the world to remain as it is, just a little longer.”

  As he spoke, the living wood of the table creaked softly. A hairline fracture near its edge, something Clara was certain hadn’t been there before, stilled, the split halting.

  Clara stared at the spot where the crack had been. "What could I actually do with this? I mean, beyond fixing tables?"

  Trazathine's gaze sharpened. "Preservation magic, when mastered, can hold back catastrophe itself."

  Clara snickered. “You're serious?”

  "Yes, I once knew a mage who cast a stasis field over an entire city as a volcanic eruption bore down upon it. For three days, the lava flowed around the barrier, the ash fell but did not settle, the heat pressed but did not burn. The city remained exactly as it was, frozen in a moment of safety, while thousands evacuated." He paused, his gaze distant. "He held that spell until every soul was clear. When he finally released it, he collapsed. But the city stood empty, preserved, waiting for its people to return."

  Clara's breath caught. That kind of power. That kind of responsibility.

  "Of course," Trazathine added, his tone lighter, "most preservation mages start with simpler applications. Keeping food fresh. Holding a wound closed long enough to reach a healer. Maintaining a structure on the verge of collapse. But the principle is the same. You are asking reality to wait, to hold still, to refuse the inevitable for just a little longer."

  "There are many types. Life, death, arcane, nature, fire, water, earth, air, storm, ice, light, darkness. The list goes on. Each source stone opens a path, but you must walk it." Trazathine leaned forward, and his eyes seemed to glow. "Magic is not a gift. It is a relationship. You must learn its language, understand its rules, and respect its power."

  "Can I keep it? How do I use it?" Clara's grip tightened on the stone, almost afraid he would take it back. But even as she held it, questions crowded her mind. What would this do to her? Would it change who she was? Would she still be Clara, or would she become something else entirely?

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  “Keep it. You may find a use for it. Or not.” Trazathine said, a faint, knowing smile touching his lips.

  "There are many ways to bond with a source stone," Trazathine said, settling back in his chair. "Some mortals meditate with them for months, slowly absorbing their essence. Others place them in amulets and wear them close to their skin. Some even swallow them, though I would not recommend that. The results can be unpredictable."

  She looked up at Trazathine, studying his expression. He seemed sincere and kind. But what did she really know about him? He was fae, and everything she'd read about fae suggested they were dangerous, unpredictable, not to be trusted. Yet here she was, alone with him, completely at his mercy. Did she really have a choice?

  He smiled at her expression. "But I can offer you a faster path. I will provide a few stones, and perform a ritual that will allow you to absorb their essence directly into your being. It will be faster, more complete, but also more intense. You must be certain this is what you want. It is your choice to make, but there will be no going back."

  Absorb its essence directly into her being.

  The words echoed in Clara's mind. A ritual. She would be part of a ritual that would fundamentally alter who she was, that would take something foreign and weave it into the very core of her being.

  This was not some distant possibility or theoretical choice. This was happening now, and she was expected to accept it or deny it. Could she really attempt to survive here without it? Could she return home without any power of her own?

  The weight of what was happening pressed down on her like a physical force, constricting her chest and making it hard to breathe. Every question she wanted to ask piled up in her mind, crowding it with impossible concepts until her head felt ready to split. The stone in her hand felt heavier suddenly, not just in weight but in meaning, a tangible representation of choices she was not yet ready to make. She set it down on the table with a soft thud, her fingers lingering.

  "Breathe," Trazathine said, and his voice had a calm quality that cut through her panic. "I am here to guide you."

  She swallowed.

  It was almost as though he could read her mind. Maybe he could, with all that magic. The thought should have terrified her, but instead, it was a relief of sorts. At least someone might understand what she was feeling, even if they couldn't truly comprehend the magnitude of what she was going through.

  “You will not be diminished,” he added softly. “Only given a place in the pattern of this world.”

  Clara took a deep breath and let it out again slowly, focusing on the sweet air, on the sound of birds in the branches above, on the gentle sway of the platform beneath her. "So these can grant me magical powers? Like, I'll be able to do what you did? Float and whatever that was?"

  "Not quite." Trazathine's smile thinned. "Source stones unlock possibilities, but there is more to it than that. Much more. You will need to focus, train, meditate, and create your own representations of magic. Spells, enchantments, rituals, they are all unique to the individual. No two magic users cast the same spells in exactly the same way."

  He leaned forward, and Clara found herself drawn in.

  “Think of it like tending a garden,” Trazathine said. “You may plant the seed, but that does not mean the plant will grow. It must be watered. Fed with the right soil. Magic is much the same.”

  “Okay, so how do I get started?”

  "Well, there is something very interesting about you," Trazathine said, and his tone made Clara sit up straighter. "As I said before, it's something I have never encountered before."

  "What?"

  "You are completely void of magical energies. When I look at you with my magical sight, something I do as naturally as you see colors, you appear as a blank space. A void. Even my magical perceptions are hampered. You have an anti-magic shell around you, a barrier that repels magic itself."

  "An anti-magic shell?" Clara's heart beat faster. "What does that mean?"

  His expression stilled in a way that was not entirely human. "It means that in a world saturated with magic, you exist as something completely outside it. Magical energies flow around you instead of through you. Other magical beings might find it difficult to sense you, to target you with their abilities. You could be nearly invisible to magical detection."

  "Is that a bad thing?" Clara asked, though part of her thought it sounded useful.

  "It could be." Trazathine stood and walked to the edge of the platform, looking out over the forest. "But it is up to you how you will relate to the environment you find yourself in. This shell, this void, it could protect you, but it would also isolate you. It would make it hard to achieve anything in this world."

  "So tell me," he paused, back turned to her, "will you remain impervious to magic, safe but separate? Or will you open yourself to it, allow magic to flow through you in order to gain power of your own?"

  He turned back to face her, and Clara saw a dark flash cross his expression. "So much suffering in mortals can be attributed to their quests for power. They grasp for magic like drowning men grasping for air, and in their desperation, they make deals they should not, accept prices they cannot pay. Power changes people, and not always for the better."

  Clara swallowed hard. "But you're offering me magic. Why, if it's so dangerous?"

  "Because the alternative is worse." Trazathine returned to his seat. "To remain a void in this world is to be defenseless. The magic here will not harm you directly, but the creatures that use it will. You will be nothing but prey, little fairy, and prey does not last long in Valcera."

  He reached across the table and took her hand. His touch was warm, and Clara found she couldn't pull away. "So first, you must decide if you want anything to do with magic. This is not a choice that should be taken lightly. It will change you permanently. There is no going back once the path is chosen."

  "Then, if you choose to accept this path," he continued, leaning back, "you can choose which aspects you will gain an affinity with. Finally, I will perform the ritual that will allow you to develop these affinities, bridge that void within you, and let magic flow through you for the first time."

  This was all so much to take in for Clara. She was a blank space where magic should be? The implications swirled in her mind like leaves in a storm. But beneath the confusion and fear, there was something else. Excitement. The kind of wild, impossible excitement she'd only ever felt when reading her favorite books or playing her favorite games.

  But was she really choosing? Or was she just too afraid to choose the alternative? The thought of remaining defenseless in this world terrified her more than the thought of becoming something else. But that didn't make it a real choice, did it? If the only alternative was death or being prey, then how much of a choice was it really?

  She gripped the preservation stone in her hand, feeling its warmth pulse against her palm. Then she stood, needing to move, needing space to think. Her legs carried her to the edge of the platform, where she could see the meadow far below, the spiraling flowers, the forest stretching endlessly in every direction.

  She was so far from home. So impossibly far.

  Clara turned back to face Trazathine. He sat perfectly still, watching her with those ancient eyes, patient as the trees themselves. Waiting for her decision.

  "Before I decide," Clara said slowly, her fingers still wrapped around the stone, "can you answer some questions? What will this do to me? Will I still be me, or will magic change who I am fundamentally? And why are you doing this? What's in it for you?"

  Trazathine's smile hardened, his eyes narrowed, almost cautious. "Magic will change you, yes. There is no way around that. It will become part of you, woven into your very being. You will still be who you are, but you will also be something more. And as for why I am helping you," he paused, considering his words. "Let us say that I find you fascinating. You are unique, and I am curious to see what you will become."

  It wasn't exactly a reassuring answer. Clara felt her stomach clench. "I find you fascinating" could mean anything. Could mean danger.

  She looked down at the preservation stone still clutched in her hand, then back at Trazathine. He was fae. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Everything she'd ever read said not to trust them. And his answer, curious to see what you will become, it sounded like she was an experiment to him.

  But her whole life back home had been ordinary. Small apartment, weekends with friends, games and movies. It had been fine. Good, even. But it had never been extraordinary. And now here she was, offered something extraordinary, and she found it hard to accept.

  Clara walked back to the table and sat down, meeting Trazathine's eyes directly. She rolled the preservation stone between her fingers, feeling its warmth, its subtle pulse. She took a breath.

  "I don't trust you," she said, and watched a light note flicker across his face. Surprise? Amusement? "Not completely. And you even acknowledged my concerns about the Fae and their deals. I don't know you, and I don't know what you really want from me."

  She kept rolling the stone, the motion steadying her nerves. "But if the choice is between being helpless or accepting a ritual to grant me magical abilities, I'll take that risk. Because I trust myself to handle whatever comes next."

  She closed her fist around the stone.

  "So yes," she said, meeting his eyes without wavering. "I consent to the ritual. Fully. With my eyes open."

  For a long moment, Trazathine simply looked at her. Then he smiled, and this time it seemed genuine, reaching his eyes. "Honest. I appreciate that." He leaned back in his chair. "You are right not to trust blindly. That is wisdom, not rudeness. But know this, I have no intention of harming you. Quite the opposite."

  He gestured to the stone between them. "Your first choice is made, then. Good. Now, have you ever thought about what kind of magic you would use, if you could? I find that mortals often have very specific ideas about such things."

  "Yes. A hundred percent, yes." Clara's face lit up, and for a moment, she forgot to be afraid. "I've spent countless hours imagining myself as a wizard or druid. Healing people, shapeshifting, talking to animals, growing gardens overnight, and cursing my enemies." She laughed, the sound slightly manic. "I know, it sounds ridiculous, but I've spent so much time thinking about it, reading about it, playing games where I could be those things."

  "Druid you say?" He inclined his head, thoughtful. "You would follow nature's path as a protector and healer?"

  "Yeah, I've always loved nature. Even back home, I'd go for hikes, spend time in parks, read books about plants and animals. And I'm usually the healer in the fantasy games I play with friends. I like taking care of people, you know? Making sure everyone's okay." Clara's voice grew softer. "I guess this doesn't count for much in this world, but I had been studying systems biology for my PhD, which in my world is considered to be the highest level of education."

  “That is interesting.” Trazathine's gaze was intense now, and Clara had the feeling he was seeing something in her that she couldn't see herself. “It may be no accident that you stand here now. This forest draws in those who resonate with growth, with roots, with renewal.”

  Clara felt a warm flush of satisfaction at his words. Maybe she really did belong here, in some strange way. The thought was comforting, but also a little terrifying. And beneath the satisfaction, doubt lingered. How could she know that he wasn't manipulating her, shaping her choices to fit his own agenda?

  "Well then," Trazathine said, rising from his chair. "The path is chosen. Now the journey begins."