Leon was warm and comfortable, blanket pulled up close to his chest. Daylight filtered through his eyelids, lighting up the veiny canvas in shades of red and black. He lay there in a semi-conscious state, appreciating the afterglow of a good night’s rest, before being aware of a pressing pain in his bladder. Uncomfortable, he shifted in his sleep, his blanket rustling as he tried to ignore the pressing pain.

He lay there for a few moments more, before an insidious, sleep-ruining thought twisted his contented expression into a slight frown. Three words wormed their way into his mind, whispering sinisterly into his subconscious.

Blankets don’t rustle.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes.

For a moment, he could’ve been back in the forest again, had it not been for the bare earth on his exposed back. The hollow was filled to the brim with branches and leaves, a fair number of which had grown directly over him as he slept. The thought that this had all grown in one night seemed impossible, but as the hazy memories from yesterday of a bird with a wingspan of a Boeing and a tree spearing a mouse in midair came into recollection, he didn’t think it impossible.

He pulled himself loose of the mess, wincing as he planted his right forearm against the floor. Right, that was still the same.

The pain cleared some of the fuzziness out of his head though, and he was able to take a more concrete grasp of his surroundings.

He could still see the opening of the hollow in which he resided, and his tattered shirt, currently serving as a climbing rack for the plant who had taken up residence in his sleep.

After a couple of minutes of quiet investigation, he determined the point of origin, a thick stem pulling out of the dirt. The dirt around the base was upraised and loose, further supporting the theory that this had occurred overnight, and he soon recognised the leaves as the bush-like plant where he had gathered the nuts he had eaten the night before.

His thoughts immediately fell upon to the worst possible option, and he felt at his stomach. He sighed in relief at the lack of branches emerging from his bellybutton.

He slowly made his way towards the dim light of the entrance, cautiously sidling around the patch where he had left the berries the night before just in case.

In an unfortunate turn of events, his shirt was, surprisingly, more wet than before he had hung it up, and the reason why was evident as he pulled it free of its wooded prison and made his way outside.

His bare hand contacted wet grass as he ducked through the opening.

It had rained.

His thoughts picked up pace as he tried to come up with some kind of rational connection in all of this, his brain pistoning up to max speed. His wounds were healed, the plants grew overnight and the animals were ridiculous and there was nothing linking it but-

He stopped, eyes widening as he realised.

Nothing but water.

He remembered the lake, how it had been so crystal clear. He remembered the branch he had hit on the way down, and the pain that had disappeared as he swam through the lake.

He remembered the water he had drunk from his shirt, and the wound that had healed as it did.

The water was magic.

He finally put his finger down on the overlying feeling that he had felt everywhere he had gone, but couldn’t place it. It was actual bloody magic!

Though that wasn’t quite right, even. It was almost like… a flavour. Despite his misgivings, he had yet to see a fire spitting mouse or a bug made of lightning. It was more like growth, or…

He contemplated as he attended to his needs, but was distracted from his chain of thought by a tickling sensation creeping up his legs, and he looked down to spot the patch of grass he was peeing on slowly climbing up his pants.

“Jesus!”

He jumped back, the grass continuing to grow as he watched.

Note to self, be more self-aware while peeing.

He finished off on a different tree, keeping watch as the grass below stretched up eagerly.

That’s creepy as hell.

He stopped, backpedaling a couple steps of thought as he stared down at the grass, neurons slowly but steadily tying together a thread of information.

Wait, if the water is magical, and the magical water makes plants grow, and assuming that rain came mostly from that lake, which is why the nutbush grew in the first place, then doesn’t that mean...

His eyes widened.

My pee is magical.

He held that thought for a moment before deciding it probably wasn’t entirely accurate.

What it would more likely mean, if he wasn’t applying too much of Earth’s ideas towards magic, is that he actually had a decent amount of magic in him. Mana. That would make sense. But if he had mana, how could he use it?

He lay back against the comforting sturdiness of the giant tree, absentmindedly squeezing more moisture out of his shirt to drink. How could he use it?

He sat there for a fair amount of time, before taking a break to forage a late breakfast. He stuck to travelling upwind, keeping watch of the position of the star above (It wasn’t the Sun, at least. He’d name it later). He knew what to expect from the Anglerbarks, as he’d taken to calling them, so the sickly sweet smell would give him some much needed warning. Plus, this way he’d have less chance to run into a giant wolf or something who’d smelled him from ahead and was waiting in ambush.

He returned soon after, the biggest turn of events was a near miss from a dog-sized, termite-like group of insects that was slowly turning one of the colossal trees that filled the forest into a towering fortress. They had taken great offense to his presence. After the initial fright, he’d easily outpaced them on the ground, thanking whatever entity was assisting his bumbling attempts at survival for the save.

After a hearty brunch of nuts and berries (he was careful to eat the lot this time, considering the excess would probably just sprout while he wasn’t looking) and clearing out the hollow (along with installing a makeshift door out of the branches and long grass), he thought some more about magic.

Letting his inner child run wild, he drew some circles in the dirt and tried to force his ‘energy’ into them. Besides from looking like an idiot for a fair few minutes, and reminding himself of when he used to try lifting pencils with his mind as a kid, nothing happened.

Running out of patience, he grew more and more frustrated as the day went on, until with a start of frustration he slammed his fist onto the ground.

He shut his eyes, breathing deeply. There was no point in getting angry. It might not even work, and if it didn’t happen in a while, he’d just have to move onto his next step and get ready to hike his way out of the forest.

He sat down in the middle of his hollow, breathing in deeply through his nose and out through his mouth, and focused on his breathing.

Meditation and mindfulness were not about the absence of thought, but centering oneself, and that began with focusing solely on what was within him, rather than without.

In. Hold. Out.

He felt the crisp cool air fill his lungs, his diaphragm sinking down towards his stomach. He straightened his posture and became aware of the aches and pains around his body. He felt his stomach, full and content at his center. He felt his arms, and legs, and extended his aware to the tips of his fingers and toes.

Then, one by one, he shut them out.

This was the hardest part, and only became harder the more things he lost awareness of, but he did not break the state of calm he felt by trying to force himself at the problem, merely letting the sensations of the world fade away, muted in the darkness.

That’s when he felt it. Below his chest and above his waist, centered at his navel. His focus was practically subconscious now, and his mouth twitched at the cliche spot to store his power.

He focused in on it, and as his consciousness folded inwards to meet it, he felt something click. He felt the heartbeat of a forest, from its tallest trees to its tiniest creatures. The idea of it stuck to his tongue, almost realised, but… incomplete.

He felt something shift, and he opened his eyes.

Floating in front of him was a ring, shining like silver. Despite the dimming light of day, the sun trapped behind the trailing dregs of last night’s storm, it shone brightly as if lit from within. In the center were two words, in flowing cursive.

Mana Affinity

The ring was separated into twelve denominations. Each marked with a roman numeral, with the cardinal points matching those on a clock. Every band before the seventh shone brightly with a stark bright light, the numeral helpfully marked in a contrasting bold black. The eighth only partially glowed, a dim light shining transparently from within the silvery segment.

Leon’s eyes widened, and he smiled widely.

Finally, we’re getting somewhere!