Apple awoke to the resistance of fused eyelids. Lazy crust had formed outside his eyes whilst he had slept. Blink after blink after blink, until the skin curtains draped around his pupils returned to their normal position.

He scanned his surroundings while he stretched and groaned. It appeared that he was still in the damp room he had used for shelter earlier, except now there was not a single haze of light entering through the cut holes of the hut’s walls. Apple must have slept until nightfall.

He rattled through his memories, as they still remained hidden somewhere behind his grogginess.

“The girl!” Apple suddenly remembered that he had fled from the city’s guard with a strange girl in his arms and had hidden themselves in this random derelict shack. He looked towards the corner of the room where he had placed the girl and found her sat there, staring at him with bright yellow eyes.

Apple fumbled in the darkness, searching for the rough texture of his catalyst. He did not feel safe without out it and wished to use it to conjure a light orb. Apple’s heart began to race and his blind search failed to find what he needed. His sight darted across the room frantically in search of his staff. It did not take him long to notice the faint shine of amber laid across the strange girl’s lap.

“Give me my staff back.” He ordered in a neutral tone. Yet, if she heard his request, she did not show it. She just continued to stare back at him with wide eyes the colour of daffodils.

“I mean it, girl. Don’t make me take it from you.” He said again, still trying his best to not sound too threatening.

Again, she simply ignored him.

With no other option Apple could see, he sighed and walked towards her. He crouched low and moved slowly in an attempt to look less intimidating.

As soon as he got within arms distance of her, she scowled fiercely and aimed the amber of his staff at him.

Apple paused. “You know not just anyone can hold a catalyst and make a fireball fly out of it. You tend to need some training and have some good ol’ dwimmer flowing through your veins.” Apple informed the girl. Yet, she still continued to scowl at him, causing Apple to once again let out another tired sigh.

“Look, little lady. I’m not going to hurt you. If I was, I would have done it by now. Doesn’t make a lot of sense to risk my life protecting you and treat your wounds, just to incinerate you at the end, now does it?”

Nothing. She just stared at him as if he was an exotic-looking beast. Every time Apple moved his body forward a mere inch, she growled and jabbed the air with his staff.

Apple in turn stared right back at her, his eyes beginning to adjust in the dark. From what he could tell her facial swelling had gone down a bit, since he had covered it in ice. “Wait a second!” Apple yelled to himself. “Can you even understand me?” He then asked her.

Nothing but silence and a seemingly never-ending glare was all Apple got for an answer. It was certainly possibly, Pier was a docking city full of people from various lands. He still could not quite see all the details of her appearance and was too preoccupied earlier to notice them as well. She certainly did seem a bit different from the folk Apple had come across so far in Loncia.

Tanned skin, yellow eyes, and above average sized canines, maybe she possessed other queer features hidden in the darkness.

“Look, I don’t know if you can understand my words, but surely you recognise my intent.” Apple gestured with an open palm: “I need that wood in your hands to protect the both of us... Tell you what, how about a trade?” He bargained, even though he was almost certain she could not understand him.

Apple reached into a pouch strapped to his belt with his gesturing hand and produced several pieces of deer jerky. “Here,” he said as he moved the jerky closer to her. “I bet you’re quite famished.”

The girl stared hard as the dried meat in Apple’s hand. With a surprising speed, she snatched the jerky out of his loose grip and wolfed it down in one swift motion.

“Oi!” Apple barked. He was annoyed at her rude behaviour, but was even more frustrated by how easily she had stolen from him. He was getting dangerously close to taking his staff off her by force now.

He took several deep breaths and eventually calmed down somewhat. He decided he would give this girl one final chance to hand it over peacefully, before he had to risk being bit in the potential scuffle they might have.

“This is my final offer, you turn this down and I’ll personally hand you over to that fat fellow.” Apple paused and retrieved the iron knife from his belt, holding the blade towards himself. “If you give me that,” he pointed to his staff, “I’ll give you this knife. You can’t use magic and my catalyst is a bit too big for you to use as a club.”

He looked at the girl with intense yet placid eyes, while he awaited her decision.

After about a minute, she slowly stretched out her arm and gripped the knife’s handle. Apple followed suite and slowly took hold of his staff. Once Apple felt the girl’s grip on his staff loosen, he released his on the knife; carefully they swapped weapons.

“Welp, I lost my only knife and a days' worth of food, but at least I can once again manipulate the elements, damn shame I’m not very good at it.” Apple grumbled, as he now once again possessed his magical catalyst.

With their exchange complete Apple was unsure what to do next. He began pacing around the room. He had not forgotten his plan to board Captain Phil’s ship, but the matter of getting there was giving him a headache. Another conundrum was what to do with the girl. He could not just take her with him – even if he could afford the coin to. He did not know anything about her except she was most likely a slave and may have a taste for man-flesh.

So, what was he to do? Apple highly doubted he could find someone to take care her and he had already lost too much for her sake to just abandon her. His health, his food, his knife, his safety had all been forsaken because of this random girl.

“Can you understand me?” He asked again, just to be sure.

No response excepted for the slightest tilt of her small head.

“Yes...” A small hoarse voice answered.

Apple threw his entire body in her direction in a sudden act of bewilderment. “What! You can understand me?” He asked a third time. This time she simply nodded her head up and down.

“Then why the bloody abyss did you not said anything?” He scolded.

“Scared.”

“Scared?” He repeated. “You? The girl who has taken a bite out of at least three grown men, two of which were magicians.”

“Scared,” was again her explanation.

The way this girl replied and her hunched stature reminded Apple a lot of a cornered animal and those are the ones that tend to be the most fearsome as well.

‘I see...” Apple untied the water skin from his side and handed it to the girl. “Drink, your voice sounds awful.” It appeared she was reluctant to accept the leather bag. “It’s not poisoned.” He affirmed his statement by taking a small swig of the skin’s contents.

She eventually excepted the water skin. As soon as the first nervous drop fell down her throat, she proceeded to inhale the entirety of the liquid with a desperate passion.

Apple decided would too have a drink, realising he was struggling to talk as well due to his dry mouth. He raised his staff above his mouth and invoked water to fall from the amber. The water was neither warm nor cold, nor bad or good. There something about drinking something that could be described as ‘nothing’, Apple found uncomfortable. Also, for some reason magically created water does not satiate a person quite like normal water, although it was certainly better than nothing.

“So... Do you have a name?” Apples asked the girl, attempting to fill the sudden silence.

“Mula.”

“Mula ‘ey. Never heard that name before. Where are you from, Mula?”

“Mula don’t know.” She replied quietly. A strange accent was becoming more noticeable with every word she spoke.

“What do you mean you don’t know? Surely you must know the name of your country, or at least the village you grew up in.”

“Mula doesn’t know what country is. Mula walk a lot.” She explained.

“I see...” Apple hummed. “Wherever it is, it can’t be too far from Loncia. I may have slept through most of my history classes, but I at least know that Loncia owns only a few insignificant islands, all of which are close by. I guess yours must be one of older ones, since we both share the same tongue.”

“Mula don’t share tongue. Mula have own.” She opened her mouth and pointed at her tongue to affirm her statement. “See.”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

Mula responded with a blank stare and a slight crane of the neck.

“So, do you remember how you got here?” Apple asked, changing the subject.

She hung her head. “Mula was sleeping, then Mula wake tied on weird house that moves on water, like a frog. So much water, take years for Mula to drink it all. Soon Mula on ground again. Men make her stand with others in front of many men. Fat man buy Mula but Mula take key to chains when no one is looking.”

“But they saw you eventually. That’s why you bumped into me. You were fleeing your captors.” Apple interrupted.

She nodded. “Yes. They notice but Mula fast. Ran and ran until I ran into you. Bit you then hit my head. Woke up to you fighting scary colourful man. He somehow makes fire come out of stick without rubbing it with another stick. You stop fire with large stick. Mula bit scary man and now Mula here. Tried to make fire with your heavy stick, but Mula couldn’t do it.”

“I’d be surprised if you did. You need magic to summon the elements, regardless of how good your catalyst is, or how hard to wish for it to work.”

“What’s magic?” Mula asked with empty eyes.

Apple hesitated. He was not sure how to answer. He was not particularly sure what magic was himself either, although he supposed a very basic explanation of it would satisfy her.

“Hmmm... That’s a tricky question. I guess simply put: magic is the term used to describe a phenomenon of unnatural ability, which is created by an individual. Whether it be with the aid of nature, spirits, or an energy that few people possess called dwimmer.” Apple informed her. He thought to dumb down his knowledge on the subject but after explaining it, it occurred to him that he had told her all he knew.

“Mula doesn’t understand many words. Use words Mula knows.” She huffed with crossed arms.

“Oh. Sorry, I forget most commoners don’t have an extensive vocabulary.” He said more to himself, than the girl frowning at him. “Anyway. I think the best thing to do right now to get some rest. We’ll talk later – probably. We’ll head out when the night is at its darkest.”

“But Mula not tired.” She complained.

“Well get tired. Lie down and I’ll make some more ice for your face.” He told her as once again began casting a water spell, laced with wind.

“What you do while Mula sleep?”

“I’m going to keep guard and see if I can figure out some temporary clothing for you.”

Mula stared at him slightly for several minutes before she finally responded. “Kay, Mula sleep...Please don’t touch Mula.” She asked, her croaky voice getting quieter with every word.

“Why would I touch you?”

Mula failed to respond, she took the fresh ice-filled cloth from Apple and retreated back into the corner. Apple noticed that even as her breathing become softer and slower, the grip on her new knife never loosened in the slightest. She laid on her back, her ice-covered face looked blindly at the ceiling, her hands rested the blade on her chest like a bouquet of flowers.

Apple took a deep breath and straightened his back. While he did plan on guarding the girl, he could not afford to waist the free time he now had. He had used about three quarters of his dwimmer today and desperately needed it all back. Without potions or elixirs, the next best method was meditation. He thought about telling Mula, but decided he could not be bothered to explain what meditation was.

He joined his fingertips together, hovering them several inches in front of his stomach. After about ten minutes of calming breathing techniques, Apple visualised a white pulsating sun dwelling within his gut. He then imagined ropes of light coming from all directions of his body; wrapping themselves around the orb like a ball of yarn.

Slowly and slowly he added to the ball, too quick and it would become loose and it could cause Apple vomit as well. The process was already causing him discomfort. It felt as if someone had placed their knuckles upon his stomach and was causally applying pressure ever so slowly. Every so often the pain would become too intense and Apple would have to start the meditation process anew. If only he had learned how to absorb the glowing energy of the moon and stars, another thing to add to his to-do list.

**********

Three hours passed, or at least that was the amount of time Apple assumed had gone by. The sky was no longer black and instead a thick grey hung in its stead. A dull almost calming monochrome that signalled the arrival of dusk.

Apple decided it was now the best time for him and his new companion to head out. The streets should still be mostly devoid of any bipedal life and he and Mula had rested to a level he was almost satisfied with. Most of his dwimmer was back and warming his stomach, even despite falling asleep on several occasions throughout his meditation.

He stood up and walked up to the still sleeping Mula and nudge her gently with his foot. “Mula, Mula,” he whispered.

At first, she merely grumbled and tossed in response but after a couple softer kicks, she arose with a slump. The soaked cloth that rested on face fell upon her lap with a squelch.

“Rise and shine, girl. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.” Apple informed her, even though he still had no idea what to do with her. At this point, he was just hoping an epiphany would strike him as they headed off to the docks.

“Where are we going?” She yawned.

“To the beach. There we should be safe.”

“What’s a beach?” Her curious child mind asked, as she rubbed the rheum from her eyes.

Apple was truly amazed at the ignorance of his new protégé. “Why, a beach is what they call the place where the land meets the sea. Usually the land part is made of sand or pebbles, or a combination of the two.”

“What’s sand?”

Apple was almost speechless. “My word!” Almost. He did not consider himself a curious sort but this girl truly wanted to make Apple investigate the sheer lack of awareness that street urchins possess. Though, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense that someone who had no means to travel would be knowledgeable about things unknown to them, especially ones so young.

“Never mind that.” He finally answered. “You’ll see what it is soon enough. Put this on, anyway.” Apple removed his shirt and handed it to Mula. It was the only piece of clothing he owned that was not so big it would cause her to trip on it.

She surprisingly obeyed immediately and armoured herself with Apple’s stained once-white shirt. He also gave her the sheath for her new knife and his hat for extra warmth and to help hide her unique features. Apple once again put his leather jacket on and took hold of his staff. There was little point him trying to disguise himself thanks to his oversized catalyst.

“Follow me. Try to be as quite as possible.” He ordered.

“No problem. Mula sneaky.” She boasted.

**********

They clung to walls like shadows. Weaving through the memories of Apple’s travels in the city. Slow and steady, only ever making the briefest appearance on the wide streets when no other option could be seen.

Luckily, so far, all Apple had come across was the squalor holes of the homeless and the occasional half-awake guard. The guards frightened him but luckily, they had far all of them had remained static, fulfilling their role as guards and not hunters. However, Apple did not allow their morbidity to relax him, there was no noble in existence that would forget such humiliation he and the girl had brought to them.

Apple ate a breeze of cold air and pressed on.

It would seem that their journey has taken them to market district. There Apple saw over a dozen of people assembling stalls of various sizes. Apple could feel the front gate of Pier beckon to him now that he was so close. Too late for that, however, Apple was confident that there were soldiers lurking under its frame, waiting for them. He turned from the direction of the door and ventured on.

More and more weaving and sneaking, only ever interrupted by the occasional twist of sneaking and weaving.

As the air grew colder and became seasoned by the fresh sea salt, Apple knew he was close. He frowned every time he turned and looked at his companion behind him. Such a frail thing with nothing but a thin shirt to ward off the chill. Even her feet were bare and Apple could see them shake and hop from the chill of the ground. The vulnerability he saw invigorated him; forced to move with a greater haste.

A sudden sting penetrated his mind. Only for the fraction of a second it came and went. Something sharp and hot. Something that barked hatred and barbarism.

It would take Apple too long to figure out what it foretold.

A lump of heat slammed into the wall besides, followed by a plume of great heat that scolded Apple’s arm.

“I found you sorcerer!” A muffled nasally voice cackled.

Apple recognised the voice immediately. A sharp condescending tone he never wanted to hear again. He turned instinctively and had his confirmation on the voice’s owner.

“It is good to see you again, sorcerer. I was sad that our bout yesterday was interrupted by Master Henderson’s new mutt. Oh! I see that you have claimed the bitch as your own.” He whistled in delight. “Magnificent! Now I do not have to waste my time looking for the both of you.” The robed man cried. Beside him were two guards, armed with short spears and little round shields.

Apple began to invoke a spell without the use of words, a technique he was woefully unskilled at. It was a simple spell, yet it could take minutes for it to breathe life. Apple needed to stall.

“Lovely to see you again,” he paused. “Forgive me, but it seems I forgot to ask you your name during our last encounter.” Apple noticed the man’s right eye was now hidden behind a piece of cloth that was tied around his head. His face was also an impressive display of reds and purples.

“Ah, it seems that wandering confidence of yours has made an appearance. Oh my; oh dear. I want to burn you ever so badly.” He shuddered and grasped his shoulders tightly, digging his nails into the pink of his flesh. “But I am a benevolent nobleman before a righteous- warrior. The name is Chester Magen Maxwell Ramm, third of his name. Ward of Ramón household and esteemed Espavailier.” The man boasted, his pride almost visible as it poured from his prestigious nostrils.

Apple smirked, “I actually out rank you, good Chester, or at least I did. You so-called warrior, being able to fling fire does not make you a warrior, you stuck up git. Also, what the abyss is an Espavailer?” Apple mused to himself, although he was most certainly not going to say any of those thoughts to his unhinged opponent.

“My, what a wondrous name. Many men must envy you for possessing such an esteemed title that shines with such a pedigree and heritage.” Apple replied; trying not to visualise the magician’s arse while he kissed it.

“You sure are an accomplished groveler,” Chester praised. “You may have made a good servant in a different life. Sadly, for you that is, in this life you are faced with a man who seems to be unable to stop imaging your skin turning black as coal and flaking off your body like dried paint. Oh, how I remember the smell of your flesh as it cooked yesterday.” He grinned. The slightest peak of his tongue through the tight gap of glossy flesh.

Apple wanted to vomit. The battle of emotions he felt while conversing with this man made it incredibly difficult to focus of casting his spell. “You’re a bit of a twisted bloke, now aren’t you.” Was the tamest thing he could muster in response?

“Twisted? Oh my no. Only a fondness for burning things, as all of us who are favoured by the red possess. You would not call a cook twisted for roasting some ham, now would you? You should be pleased that it was I who found you two. My compatriot from yesterday had much different plans on what to do with the two of you, especially the girl. What I want shall be over ten minutes at most. He on the other hand, did not plan to kill you at all. What a twisted little fellow he is.”

Apple could hear Mula beside him growl. She clutched the knife with white knuckles and ever so slowly walked backwards.

He was close now, just another minute and his magic would he ready.

“Oh my, should wondrous words of wisdom. Never have I heard such insight before and thank you for saving us from your companion. Truly you are a great man.”

Chester scowled. “You know there is such a thing as too much flattery, especially from an advisory, even one as loathsome as yourself. Your sugar-coated words have turned sour from the amount of the its glossy powder.” His scowl turned rounder, revealing several deep wrinkles and cracks in the Espavailier’s face. “Guards, seize the pair!”

Apple’s eyes bulged and his spine stiffened. The two-armed men on either side of the magician were approaching with long strides. He had been too submissive in his flattery, he had forgotten the sarcasm that births from large numerous compliments. He saw at his side Mula hunched low with bowed legs, her knife waved threateningly at their opponents.

He was so close but still needed more time. Running would distract him too much. Cowering would probably entice the sadistic pyromaniac. Perhaps he should try a different method to persuasion. A more aggressive one. Apple stood tall.

“Halt!” He bellowed at the guards. To his surprise the men did as he asked. “Do you know who you are dealing with?” He asked with a voice deeper than his usual tone. “I am the great and mighty magician of the north! Lord of the Sickle Mountains – peaks of my own creation, I might add.” Apple lied, not giving them time to answer his question.

“Do not listen to him men!” Chester cried. “He is just some lowly forest dweller. I tested his mettle yesterday. His magic in on par with a third-year apprentice, at best.”

Apple smirked and covered his eyes in a shadow of condescending superiority. “So, says the man that sends his troops to do his dirty deeds.” Apple stood on his tiptoes and looked down upon the Espavailier. “Tell me, oh noble warden of some other bloke’s house, how did your face become so decorated with cuts and bruises? Are you unused to living in a building with a staircase so high? Did m’lord perhaps have a tumble?”

Chester’s face flushed red. Redder than any blush a young maiden could ever produce. He began to pant and mumble. The guards that were almost upon Apple turned to look at their master, even they looked frightened at the sight of him.

The red-magician squawked an indecipherable word, roared another, and then whispered the next. If it was not for the magician so blatantly aiming his wand at him, Apple would have had no idea the man was casting a spell. Apple aimed back.

It was unfortunate for Chester, for Apple’s magic was finally ready to enter the physical world. The amber of his staff hissed, causing the guards to flinch.

An eruption of white smoke gushed from the orange gem and engulfed the two men. They became invisible in the dense white but their voices were as clear as day. Apple cringed at the sound of their screams as they became cooked by his creation. He had no desire to kill some rich-man's pawns but had little choice. Death by steam was both a terrible and unusual way to go.

“Run!” He ordered Mula as he grabbed her wrist and ran from the battle.

Apple once again darted through the gaps in buildings, still intent on reaching Pier’s shore. Once he was certain that Mula was aware of the situation, he let go of her so she could follow easier.

For a short while his morning sprint was pretty uneventful, then the air became hotter. About every ten seconds he would feel a sudden gush of heat, sometimes even see balls of blazing orange whizz past him.

He took a glance behind him and saw the Espavailier: Chester charging after him. He screamed his spells in between his laboured breaths. His shaky wand would spit globs of fire with an accuracy of a blind drunkard. It would seem the combination of using magic while running and lacking one of his eyes made the magician a terrible shot, not that Apple was complaining.

Although, even Apple was not foolish enough to rely on only these two factors to stop him from being incinerated. He rested his staff on his shoulder with its heart aimed behind him. “Potiagin gwy minum ghar, fli!” He chanted through his own hard breaths. A strong gust of wind was birthed from his staff and spiralled towards his hunter. It was a weak spell; only enough power to ruffle a man's clothes or sting his eyes. Apple hoped it would be just enough to cause the winded magician to trip over, or at least slow him down a tad. In the same manner as Chester who would create a new fireball immediately after the previous one, Apple too ushered in another mild gale after the last one.

“Fuck off you cretin!” Chester screeched at Apple, as he shielded his eyes from the sorcerer’s seventh wind attack. Apple was pleased to know that his magic was having an effect on the Espavailier.

Apple could see the protruding wooden docks now, causing him to leap for joy. His happiness was sort lived, however, when he realised he could not just lead his foe to the docks. Apple doubted Chester would kindly wait for him while he engaged in pleasantries with Captain Phil and then climb abroad his ship. There was also the matter of what to do with his new companion. He still could not think of anything, especially while balls of fire kept threatening to consume hum. He needed some breathing room, something he would not get until Chester was dealt with.

Instead of the docks, Apple darted towards the beach beside it. He ran and ran until he was so close to the sea, the tide swept at his ankles. He turned around and waited for the magician to catch up.

“Run away, Mula.” He ordered the girl to his left.

“No.” She protested. “Mula stay with you. Help you fight magic man.”

“Don’t be an idiot! We only just met, there’s no need for you to risk your life. I think we can both agree he’s more interested in me. Also, you’re not really much help to me right now.” Apple bluntly stated.

“Mula is too! You would have died if not for Mula yesterday.” She huffed.

Apple smiled at that comment, “oh, I know, trust me. I’m not telling you to run to the other side of the country. You’re no use in a direct fight, but if you flee, sneak around and shank the red-faced bastard while I’m distracting him... I think everything will be fine – probably.”

Mula was silent, a deep look of concentration appeared on her face. “Okay.” She nodded and fled along the coast. Just in time too, for the man of the hour had arrived.

“It would seem that your pet was abandoned you. A pity. Though I am sure finding her shall not be too difficult.” Chester said, while he tried to act as if he was not completely exhausted or consumed by rage.

“I don’t about that, Chester-my-boy, she’s a small one. All sorts of places she could hide.”

The magician’s reamining eye twitched at Apple’s informality. “Well it would seem there is nowhere who you to hide, sorcerer. Unless you know a spell that can turn you into a fish.”

“No.” He sighed “Sadly I fell asleep in that class. Just thought it would be nice to cool my feet while we try to kill each other.”

“So, you are a water user., is that it? All this time I thought you were a wind whisperer, albeit not a very good one.”

Apple kept a straight face. He had hoped that the Espavailier would not have figured that out. “So, you caught me, aye. It’s so time-consuming conjuring water. Much easier to find a natural...” Before he could finish his sentence, a globe of embers catapulted towards him. Luckily its trajectory was crocked, allowing Apple to dodge to side without much difficulty.

“Enough talk, sorcerer! Fight me!” He yelled.

“Rude git.” Apple muttered as he splashed around in the shallow ocean.

He did as he was told and began to transmute the dwimmer he had been storing within his staff.

Apple aided his spell by slapping the water in front of him with the bottom of his staff. The water sprang from its idle state and formed the crude shape of a wall. The wall was immediately struck by a torrent of blaze. The wall managed to fend off the attack well, yet the heat caused a portion of his shield to turn to air in the aftermath. Fortunately, Apple had plenty more water.

He had been on nothing but defensive in their confrontations and Apple was sick of it. It was time for him to attack.

He dipped the bottom of his staff in the water once more: “Brinre gwy minum gar, fli ener ond festa.” He breathed. The spell cost him a lot less dwimmer without the need to create the element from nothing.

A pillar of water grew from the shallow pool in front of Apple and charged towards Chester like a battering ram. The water never touched him, however, as the Espavailier’s own stream of fire crashed into it. The sight of his opponent disappeared through the cloud of steam they both created.

As Apple began forming more magic, something struck him in the shoulder, causing him to fall into the sea. His nose and mouth filled with water, making him gag, causing him to choke upon the cold liquid with even more intensity.

He hurriedly sprang to his feet and spat the water out of both orifices. His shoulder felt the ache of blunt trauma but it seemed nothing was damaged internally.

Still unable to see Chester, Apple fired several wild water blasts at the mist, hoping that one would find its target. In retaliation, a multitude of objects going too fast to appraise darted from the mist. It was only when Apple heard the nostalgic sound of something small hitting the water did Apple realise what they were. His foe was flinging beach pebbles at him with a speed no human arm could muster. It never occurred to Apple that the Espavailier would also use the terrain as a weapon.

Apple remained still. His foe could not see him but could most certainly hear the splashes of movement. Apple had an idea. A spell that would drain most of his dwimmer. A spell that was only possible due to the large volume of water around him. “Brinre gwy minum ghar. . . fli! Hacante ond retre. Hacante ond retre. Hacante ond retre! Fli! Ener ond festa. Ener ond festa. ENER OND FESTA!”

The water swished to and fro. The magnitude of its aggression increasing with every word Apple uttered. Until, with a climatic shout of the final word, the tide erupted.

A tidal wave as tall as a grand oak arose from the ocean and stormed Pier’s beach. A wave so wide it would have been impossible to dodge.

Unable to avoid in his own attack completely, Apple rode the wave and landed on the beach with it. With a controlled roll as soon as he met sand, allowing him to come upright almost immediately.

His advisory laid upon the wet sand in a daze. Apple sprinted towards him with the intent to finish his bludgeoning from yesterday.

Just as he was about to make contact with the prone Chester, the Espavailier unleashed a chaotic plume of fire. The spell was weak and Apple managed to shield himself with his leather coat arms, yet the flames still managed to warm the tanned hide to a point that it caused Apple cry out in anguish.

Before Apple could regain his composer, Chester fired another pebble at him, he felt the bone in his arm creak in protest at the action. Another barrage of pebbles forced Apple to maintain his cowered stance, less the smooth rock should strike his skull. It was fortunate that the panicked speed of the volley slung made them slow enough to ricochet off his leather guarded bone.

It was a stalemate. Chester’s hurried barrage was too weak to kill Apple and if he was to invoke a more powerful spell, the time it would take would allow Apple to regain himself.

So, for now Apple was forced to kneel upon the ground with him vision hidden behind his own arms, hoping his attacker would grow tired of his assault. He tried several times to cast magic, but every time he felt the sting of rock, his concentration was broken. Apple only had one trick left in arsenal, an incredibly risky one at that.

“Death to the Circle!” He roared hoping the Espavailier would hear him.

“What did you just say?” Chester responded, as he continued to pelt the sorcerer with rocks.

“You heard me, Chester! Your Circle is a false god and smells of cat piss!” He yelled even loud than his previous comment.

Chester stammered. Apple could feel the sudden growth of hatred in his attacks. “You, you dare? Heathen!” He spat.

“Oh, I dare. To me your precious Circle is more akin to a square. A stinky, stinky square.”

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you!”

The moment Apple had been hoping for had arrived. He no longer felt the kiss of cold stone and instead heard the quiet buzzing of heat. It seemed his opponent could no longer abide his existence and wished to extinguish it immediately.

Apple charged at Chester. He held the staff at its end and jabbed the Espavailier in the chest with its heart. The Espavailier coughed and held his chest with his free hand. While his enemy was stunned, Apple switched to a two-handed grip and whacked the man in his wand holding hand.

Chester yelped but to Apple’s dismay did not release the wand from his grasp.

Through all these movements Apple had be chanting. He retreated with a jump and pointed his catalyst at the Espavailier. An icicle almost the length of his staff grew from its amber and pieced the man’s gut, almost half of it breaching through the other side of the magician.

Apple still did not relent, swiftly he jerked the staff to side, snapping the ice off its heart. He swung the long stick into his foe’s kneecap, creating an audible snapping sound. Chester fell to the ground barely making a sound during the descent.

Apple was upon him in an instant. He ripped the wand from enemy’s claw-like hands and tossed it aside.

“Not bad for a lowly forest dweller, don’t ya think?” Apple panted as he stood over his foe.

Chester merely groaned in response, “what’s wrong Espavailier? Blood in your throat?” Apple sneered.

The man once again merely grunted in response. Apple concluded their conversation was finally over. He looked down and saw the perfectly stitched white circle, shining proudly in the rainbow sea; Apple lost his condescending smirk.

“Can you see me, Lysander?” Apple asked the circle stitching on Chester’s robe.. “I’ve always wondered that... You’ve managed to infect the minds of hundreds of thousands. They worship you as a shape. I have no idea why you chose to known as a circle to be honest. You’re a smart one though isn’t ya? I wonder, am I speaking to you right now? Or just a crippled man’s clothing. You know, every time I talk to someone, I’m always wondering if you’re watching, I’m still not sure to be honest. But surely you must be able to borrow your magician’s eyes, you’re one yourself after all. Or should I be calling you an Espavailer now? Does the circle represent an eye, Lysander? Is that what it means? That you’re always watching? Hey Lysander, would this make you blink?” Apple raised his staff above his head and slammed into the centre of the circular embroidery.

Chester’s body lucked upwards, blood, bile, and phlegm flew from his mouth.

“Did you feel that, Lysander? Did you at least feel an itch on your illustrious pupils?” Apple began to pant with a greater intensity. The bottle that held a years' worth of rage had become loose.

“You bastard. You evil, sadist fuck! Do you have any idea what it’s like to spend every waking moment of your life terrified of every single living creature? Unable to ever go home? Unable to relate to anyone because their minds have been altered.? They don’t remember things properly... Just a single wrong word can turn a town of harmless peasants into rabid beasts.” Apple began to grind his teeth. His body shook and his eyes blinked with a chaotic rhythm.

He once more raised his staff and brought it down upon the circle. Again; and again; and again...

The Espavailier’s body continued to spasm as it was struck, yet no sound or protest came from his lips.

Apple soon grew too tired to raise his catalyst. He was now forced to use it to help him stand. He stared at the round stitching once more. “I pray that you felt that.”

With that final wish uttered, Apple turned and walked away. His goal of boarding the Captain Phil’s ship forgotten. The girl called Mula, forgotten. Right now, he just needed to be alone. So, along the barren coast he walked. Never did he notice a petite figure in the distance collect a finely cut stick with a precious ruby stuck to its tip from the sand.