To Save a World Ch. 05

This, combined with the fact that circumstances called for her to dress as little as possible with just a short piece of skirt and cloth that went around her overflowing breasts, turned her into a scantily clad goddess of the forest, a guardian spirit of the early morning mist, watching over every beautiful, sensual thing that existed. It was devastating.

And it didn't end there. Her physical admiration for the woman was coupled by the wonder Lydia had about Serche's skills, and magical knowledge. It took her a while, but after several false starts, and stammered, nervous small talk, she finally overcame her shyness and managed to ask the woman to teach her (Anything at all! That you would be willing to teach, of course, and only if it's not such a hassle-) about magic. It's actually been occupying what free time she could spare, mostly around the afternoons after whatever work Trasnu has lined up for them. Sometimes Aaron would tag along, and together they would listen to her talk about the Spirit Lore of the Forest People, the songs and stories of the Sky Treader Clan.

So yes, admittedly when she told Aaron that she would be fine with Serche sharing their bed, it really wasn't out of pure selflessness.

Not that she was unsatisfied with her Aaron, oh no. Far from it. Each day the experience seemed to only get better and better. Not a day passed by when she would not have her mouth filled with his man's cock, his seed bathed on her face or planted deep inside of her dripping snatch.

And by better, she meant better. Aaron looked delicious, felt delicious. Each day his body seemed to be getting closer and closer to peak masculinity. Whereas she had nothing against how he looked like in the past, the old Aaron couldn't hold a candle to how much his form has improved. His height, bordering on lanky before, now was a lithe, powerful frame. His limbs filled up nicely with muscles that knew hard work. His chest and abdomen was like an ongoing work of art, day by day being sculpted into perfection. Even his enigmatic black hair looked shinier and healthier, now hanging past his shoulders in soft curls.

Pasty white before, he now glowed golden with health and well-being. One would think, and rightly so, that the tattoo all over his arms and back would become fainter with his relatively darker coloration. On the contrary, those seemed to stand out even brighter, for some mysterious reason. And by the gods of old, it made him look so... manly.

Just the sight of him with his shirt off was enough to cause her womanhood to leak like a fresh spring, and pretty soon they'd be all over each other, rutting unashamedly where they thought they wouldn't be seen. Not that a lot of thinking went into the whole thing at all, per se, as with something as simple as a look he could set her off and then she'd have to drag him away to the bushes somewhere for her to have her way with him. Or the other way around.

She gloried in it, their coupling an expression of her fundamental nature previously untouched. And the sheer volumes of magic it gave her. It felt like everything glowed with a hidden light every time she had her eyes closed, like she could hear it hum if only things would get quieter, feel it swirling about her like wind that only she could feel. It was intoxicating. And she wanted more, always more, the extent of her awakened thirst so vast, deep, all-consuming. Sometimes she struggled with this newfound hunger, feeling like she wanted to do nothing else except rut all day, to revel in physical gratification with Aaron. With Serche. Even Trasnu. Even all of them, all at once.

Lydia never let it get the best of her, of course. Instinctively, she recognized this as the dusk in her blood, as fiery and consuming as the fire in her eyes, her hair. Although she might falter from time to time, she resolved to master it. She would do nothing that would hurt Aaron or jeopardize the tight-knit relationship of their group.

Beyond the physical intimacy that she enjoyed with Aaron, they were getting to know a lot about each other as well. She always bugged him with questions, about his past world. About knowledge that he had. About himself.

One day, Lydia woke up and Aaron was not lying in sleep beside her. He was still there, but he was hunched, hugging his knees to his chin. He was staring out of the window of their treehouse hut. He couldn't even see the forest stretched out from his vantage point - all he must have been able to see was the thick canopy of leaves, if it was light. It was not. It was still very dark, the coldness of dawn biting into her skin.

"What's wrong?" She asked softly.

He turned to look at him. In the gloom she wasn't able to see anything except notice his movements, but she knew that he glanced at her. Perhaps a little bit guiltily.

"Nothing." He whispered back.

Lydia rubbed her eyes and got up, kneeling down behind him. From this position, she was able to wrap her arms around him. She kissed his hair, her arms tracing his. He was warm, but strangely his voice was cold, lost.

"I don't know who I am, Lydia." He whispered, so softly that she had to strain to hear. "I don't know who I am. I said all those things before - but what am I supposed to do here? Was it worth tearing away everything that I was before? Sometimes I just don't understand."

"Well, you were summoned here for a purpose." Lydia murmured with the ease of sleepiness. "Maybe you are meant to be a great hero of the lands. Or maybe you were sent here for me. To save me."

It was a long moment before Aaron replied. She was falling asleep when he said, "Yeah. Maybe it's that." She knew he was smiling his small smile. The next thing she knew was the comfort of his arms, burrowing into his chest to partake of his warmth as they tucked in against the cold, and then immediately falling back asleep.

They've never talked about that incident since, and to her it seemed Aaron had all but forgotten it. She never did, though, and for all her troubles she felt like she knew Aaron better after that event.

She was getting a lot closer to her other companions as well. The magical training she has with Serche has opened her up to the world of Shamanic lore, and it was fascinating to glimpse the world as they saw it. In their eyes, everything has a 'spirit', everything is a spirit; fundamentally the same and above all, connected. Although it was a nice thought, she found it difficult to comprehend that while Serche seemed to accept this, at the same time she also seems sure in the belief that it was not real at all. When asked to explain further, the Shaman explained "There is not only one truth by which to see the world."

Which, of course, did not make one whit of sense to Lydia. So she let it be. What she found extremely useful though is the Shaman's instruction with her magic.

At her level of skill, basically everything the Shaman taught her was new, valuable information. She grew up without a mentor and instruction, out of touch with her innate abilities. But what she lacked in knowledge, she made up with enthusiasm. It was very easy to be enthusiastic about something that you were truly interested in (and also if your teacher was someone as easy on the eyes as Serche). Each new thing she learned, every technique they begin to explore, feels like uncovering a part of her that was long buried away. It felt new, but familiar at the same time, like a long forgotten memory.

Her favorite exercise was something that Serche called 'Leaves Falling Down'. It was called that way because it visualized, well, leaves falling down. It was an apt description, but Lydia preferred to think of something else when sitting down to meditate. It was highly reminiscent of a position she and Aaron would have during sex, where they would sit facing each other, him on the floor, her on his cock.

Then again, sex is always near her mind; a lot of things remind her of sex.

The exercise, like most others, began with clearing the mind. For this, she needed to sit down cross-legged, eyes closed and her hands clasped together on her lap, while she sat as straight as a wooden plank. Her breathing needed to be controlled, measured, her mind needed to be hyper focused on her body as if 'feeling every inch of her skin, all at the same time'.

Achieving the state could take a while, but she'll know when she's there because she'd feel her magical energies within her, saturating her. The first time she did, she immediately snapped out of it, so surprised by the foreign sensation of her body feeling like it was on fire. Serche smiled at her wide-eyed surprise, and the next time she achieved the state she was much readier. It felt awesome. Her whole body tingled with indescribable sensation, billowing off her in hypnotic waves. She felt like the center of a slow burning fire - no, it felt like she was the fire, the center of energy, radiating tendrils of magic into the unknown.

The next stage was much harder. She needed to visualize her energies as 'leaves falling down'; which meant she needed to draw it up from her core, make it move through her head, and then outside. From there, 'floating down' to the ground, back up to her core, sort of like drawing a circle with her magic. She needed to control her spirit so that she wasn't a wild, raging fire anymore, but a controlled hoop of flame.

It was the most difficult thing she ever did, but also the most rewarding. Focusing was easy enough, but making her energies move according to her will was hard. Almost like... making a lake move into a river, using only her bare hands. And the lake wasn't water, but invisible sand that burned with fire and crackled with lightning. It was frustrating, the mental and emotional strain a greater burden to her than the actual headaches and sharpness in her eyes.

Nevertheless she threw herself to the task single-mindedly. She was able to shift the burning lake of sand after a couple of days. Able to channel it into a river of energies after another couple more. After only two tendays, she was able to complete the cycle, on the way to mastering the technique. Serche's astonishment and utter delight was worth all the effort, of course, but what really made her glow with pride was Aaron's excitement and adulation. He peppered her with questions after Serche's announcement, the childish look of wonder on his face making her heart melt.

And so there were exercises for everything. There were a couple other methods to control the flows of energy, exercises to control the output, the speed by which it coursed through her. She trained. It wasn't easy, but she faced the challenge head on, delighted in discovering her limits and reveling in pushing herself past them.

Most of Serche's instructions actually composed of these meditative exercises. The Shaman, conscious of their fundamental difference in races (and therefore of their magical capacities and proclivities), elected not to teach her how to manifest her magic, but teach her universal ways of controlling how she controlled it, if that made any sense. Well, except for making fire. That one she had to learn at all cost.

Needless to say, Serche has been an excellent teacher throughout all the process. Lydia couldn't help but think that the Rakan Shaman was born to teach, with her patience, kindness, and air of benevolent seriousness. And she was serious, almost rock-faced formal, all the time they were together. Oh, she smiled (and how she treasured those moments!), but they were demure, controlled smiles. Perhaps she was taking her role as a teacher all too seriously, or perhaps her teacher just wasn't that comfortable with her in particular. About the only one who can break into her rigidity was Trasnu, her fellow beastman, with whom she gladly banters with. Although, it might be for the best. Lydia was awkward enough with her when all that was required of her was to say 'yes, Serche', gods have mercy on her if she started acting friendly.

With all of her capabilities, and as great as her instruction is to have, Lydia still had a lot of lingering questions.

"Serche." Lydia asked quietly. It was afternoon, and the sun would set in a few hours. Serche has taught both her and Aaron a little about plants and herbs, and they were putting that knowledge to good use in foraging. With Trasnu and Aaron off on their own task, the two ladies were just far enough from camp to feel away. "I've been meaning to ask."

"What is it?" Serche inquired, sensing hesitation.

"Back at the run'an..." Lydia wasn't sure how to put her question into words. "Well, you were clearly out of magic."

"Oh, yes. None at all. I was about to collapse from exhaustion." She paused. "I was unconscious from exhaustion."

Lydia nodded. "I held your hand."

"Yes, and pure magic swept into me. It felt..." The Shaman shuddered, remembering. She cannot remember exactly what happened, but she remembered feelings, sensations. "Terrible. Amazing."

The demon-touched nodded again. "Yes. I've never heard of such a thing."

"Well, it's not that surprising."

"What do you mean?"

Serche was quiet for a while, turning back to gathering fresh sprouts from an edible plant. Lydia followed her lead, her basket filling with small berries.

"Demon-touched like you are... few. There were already little of the dusk to begin with, even before the War, and it is not their nature to stay in one place for long. Chasing the setting sun, as they say. After the War of the Races, well, they wouldn't chase the sun in a place where they are unwelcome. Those that remained... I can only imagine how much your kind has suffered. Hunted down. Enslaved. They wouldn't have remained for long."

"But why?"

The Shaman glanced at her, although Lydia did not see it. "Your magic is very unsettling to humans. How much do you know of your own lore, Lydia?"

This time, it was Lydia who glanced at Serche, a touch of embarrassment in her eyes. She immediately thought of Aaron. "Not much at all. I could not afford to seek them out, even if I wanted to."

"I shall tell you what little I know, then. According to the stories, the dusk is the time when work is laid to rest." The Shaman intoned, the words flowing out her with a certain storytelling cadence. "It is a time of carousing, of passions, the little window between day and night where most beings stop attending to their needs, and start tending to their wants. Demons of the dusk, therefore, gather their magic from strong emotions, their essence filled from the excess of others. That is where your power is gathered, that is where your power lies. That is also how your power... operates."

"How do you mean?" The young woman wondered.

"It means that most of your magic is instinctual."

"Isn't everybody else's?"

"Us day creatures, no, especially the humans. Magic does not come naturally to them, they have to study it and devote most of their life spans to become really good at it. Even with their efficient institutions of learning, it still takes them years upon years."

"You seem to know a lot about humans, given how isolated you were."

Serche grinned at her. "People talk around collared slaves." Lydia looked guilty.

"It is fine, don't be sad. It is something that I have accepted, and can talk openly about. But going back, it's not just your unconscious use of very difficult magic, but also its target. Humans have a particular hatred of dusk beings because your magic seems made to be used against them."

Lydia frowned. "They aren't the only ones with emotions. Everybody else has them."

"Yes, but they are the most numerous, and the beings least inclined to magic to protect against it. It threatens them."

Lyida slowly nodded her understanding, her eyes pensive.

"So,.." Serche took a moment to organize her thoughts, they'd been a little sidetracked. "As I was saying, its not at all surprising. Your use of the magic wasn't a conscious choice - you didn't know you had the skill. We couldn't have known, either, because there are so few of you and so little of your lore remained after the war."

"Does that mean that I know how to use my own magic then?"

"Of course you do. That's why I'm not teaching you specific skills, but strengthening your mind. It's how you mastered taking control of your magic so easily."

"Does that... does that also mean that I can do it again? Pass my magic unto you, I mean? Or other people."

Serche paused, turning to face her. "I don't know about other people, but... Shall we try?"

"What?" Lydia squeaked, eyes wide. She hadn't exactly expected that.

"Shall we try, now? It would be best for us to know our capabilities. Your store of magic would help with, well, everything. Immensely. It takes a long time for me to gather the energy from the surroundings, even with this richer place. I supposed you have... a lot?" Serche eagerly offered her hand, grinning at her mischievously. She almost never grinned

"Uh," Lydia uttered, blushing furiously, but she was already reaching for Serche. Their hands touched, grasped, and Lydia inhaled sharply.

Nothing happened.

Serche cocked her head. "Well, that was too much to ask for, I guess."

"Wait, let me-" Lydia muttered, acting on an idea. She breathed and did her best to calm her mind, slipping into the meditative state, taking hold of her magic. She guided it unto the beastman Shaman through their touch, but it passed right through. She could feel it saturating her hand, even the air around it, but it simply passed through Serche's hand as if it weren't there. And Serche's hands were unexpectedly soft. Strong, but still soft. It was the first time they've held hands after the run'an incident.

"Wow, I can feel it. Feel it around my hand, it's not adding to my reserves." She corrected as Lydia looked at her with astonishment. "It's very... potent".

"Yes, it comes from a potent source." She boasted before she could stop herself. She immediately blushed.

"I should think so." Serche was grinning at her, and she blushed even deeper. Her face felt hot.

"Uh, it's not working." She took her hand away, embarrassed beyond measure. "Maybe we need to be... closer."

"Closer?" The shaman was still grinning. Lydia realized what she just said.

"Closer- in the mind- emotionally- like. Friend... lier?" She stammered. The poor young woman realized that she was all over the place, so she just shut up, turned around, and went back to picking those berries. Berries wouldn't make her tongue trip.

"Berries, we should pick them." By the Old Gods' beard, why'd you have to say something?

This time, the young Shaman couldn't hold back her laughter. She had a great laugh, loud and boisterous, but also melodic. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh. You're just so... adorable. But, perhaps I have been too serious. I do not mean to come off as unfriendly, I'm just- not used to it, I guess. I'd love to be closer to you. Spirits, with what we've been through together..."

Lydia bravely turned back to face her, an uncertain smile on her face. "I'm sorry, I'm bad really bad with people"

"That makes two of us." Serche smiled at her kindly. "Now, as you said; berries, we should pick them." they laughed, turning back to finish their task before the darkness caught up to them. Lydia was smiling, glad she made a closer friend out of the formal Serche.

* * *

"Trasnu, I've been meaning to ask. And don't look at me weirdly this time."

"What is it, master?"

"Um, why are there so many plants around?"

Trasnu snickered quietly beside him. "Hey!" He protested in a whisper. "It's a reasonable question. It's an ancient forest, so the trees are so tall and broad that they block out all the light. Undergrowth like this shouldn't be able to grow, much less thrive so much. I've never seen it happen before."