"Magic? Seriously?"

Diane tries to pull free, but his grip is like iron. Not as injured as she’d feared then. His other hand is already on the hilt of the knife, and she redoubles her efforts to get away.

“Let go of me!”

Thankfully, he releases her hand and she snatches it back, holding it protectively close to her body while she eyes him suspiciously. Every muscle tense, waiting for his next move.

He sits up, winces as he drags his fingers through his hair, and gives her a sheepish grin. Most of the tension drains out of her as she looks into soft brown eyes. She’s good at reading people, she has to be in her line of work. Despite his rugged appearance, there’s nothing threatening about him. He’s clearly exhausted, yet his eyes sparkle with curiosity when they meet hers.

“Hey there.” His voice is coarse, as if he hasn’t used it for days.

“Er, hey, you too,” Diane manages. “Um, who are you? Do you know where we are?”

“Oh, I apologize. Where are my manners?” He smoothly folds his legs into a kneeling position, places a fist on the ground, the other on the hilt of his sword, and bows his head formally. “I am Aster. Aster Arakiba.”

The look he gives her when he raises his head is expectant. Is the name supposed to mean anything to her? Well, it’s not.

“I’m Diane Hartwell. Pleased to meet you,” she answers politely. “And, er, do you know where we are?” And why we’re here. Or at least why I am here.

“Of course, we’re in the Kingdom of Akeyokuni.”

Again, there’s that look as if he’s waiting for a reaction. Well, tough luck, she’s never heard of it. But, if he knows this land and wasn’t dragged here against his will, perhaps he can help her. He looks like he’s about to say something more, but is distracted by the row of colorful band-aids. Lifting his arm, he gives them a quizzical look, sniffs them, then looks at Diane.

“Healing spells? I’ve never seen anything quite like these before.” He’s clearly not impressed. “The healing seems very slow.”

Spells? What’s he going on about?

“They’re band-aids,’ Diane says the word slowly, as if talking to a small child. He must have hit his head harder than she thought. “They will help to protect the wound, not make it heal faster.’

“Protect?” Aster looks more closely at them, then nods. “You invoked a feline spirit for protection. I see.”

“No, no spirits.”

“Okay… if you say so. You’re the expert.” He looks sceptical.

“They’re just band-aids. For kids. They don’t have any powers.”

“But you do, so why don’t you put your magic to good use and heal us both?” His arm is suddenly right in her face, making her wrinkle her nose, and she takes a step back.

Magic? He really thinks she has magic? He’s obviously delusional.

Again her training takes over, and she briefly rests her fingers on his forehead. No fever, just an annoyed, impatient huff and the injured arm being waved more vigorously in front of her.

“There’s no such thing as magic,” she states crisply, in her best ‘don’t take any crap from patients' voice. “You have a concussion. Is there a hospital nearby? You need professional care.”

“I have you. A professional healer. As soon as you stop being stubborn about it.”

Seriously? He thinks that she is being stubborn?

“Magic doesn’t exist. The fact that you seem to believe otherwise has me worried that you…”

“Don’t exist? You’re a real court jester, aren’t you?” He laughs theatrically. “Well, we should get going so you can keep your secrets. For now.”

“Thank you, I will,” Diane says sarcastically, her usual patience dwindling. “Er, going where exactly?”

“Since you asked, the closest settlement should have an adept healer. It’s only a couple of days' walk from here.” He gets to his feet and stretches his arms over his head, wincing at the several loud pops from his back. “Perhaps more with me being this stiff. I was hoping you’d magic that away too.”

Another hopeful look, and she shakes her head, stomping her foot for emphasis.

“Will you, please, stop with this magic nonsense?” He looks offended at her little outburst, so she quickly softens her tone. “Or, if… if there is magic here, why don’t you show me? Prove it.”

Crossing her arms in front of her, Diane is looking at him expectantly, a small smile on her lips, pleased with her strategy.

‘Well, not that I take orders from you, but yes, I could.” That sheepish smile is back, and he runs his fingers through his hair again. “If I hadn’t just spent all my magic, that is. I’m completely out, so if you want a show, you’ll have to wait.”

“Now, isn’t that convenient?” she mutters. Out of magic, what a surprise. Still, she should play along long enough for him to take her back to civilization. Perhaps the doctor he mentioned can help her figure out what’s going on. And treat Aster’s concussion too.

Diane groans and rubs at her temples. Should she even treat this as anything but a dream? It feels more real than any dream she’s had before, and this guy is anything but a dreamboat. To make up for the immense lack of romance in her life, her subconscious could at least have come up with someone more romantic and chivalrous. And clean. Not this smug, annoying mess of a man.

Diane sighs. She’s not caffeinated enough to deal with this. Whatever this is.

“Are you coming or not?” While she'd been lost in thoughts and a growing migraine, he’s started walking and is now looking back at her with an infuriating grin all over his face, waving his arm. “Or, are you planning to find the way all by your merry self?”

Jerk.

To Aster’s surprise, she actually startles. Had she not noticed him walking away? No, of course not, she seems to have the survival instincts and attention of a Blubberbird. He sighs, closes his eyes, and turns his face to the sun. The warmth is comforting, strengthening. It’s good to be back.

He’s not sure what he had expected. An old, wise mage? An imposing warrior as proficient with a sword as with spells? A powerful shaman with an arsenal of tools and abilities? What he hadn’t expected was a tiny girl, with big, kind eyes and no knowledge of magic whatsoever. Unless she’s a very good actor, wanting to hide her skills for some obscure reason, but he doubts that. He could sense nothing but honesty in her, besides some natural confusion and irritability.

Again, he wonders if the Ritual had sent him to the wrong place. Had they somehow managed to interfere? To stop his mission? That is a disturbing thought. But no, if a mistake had been made, it must’ve been his own.

Aster takes another deep breath, the energy in the air slowly being absorbed by his body, bringing him back to life. He’s exhausted. After months in that barren, dead world, he’d been near death. Weak, losing hope together with his sanity, living off scraps, desperate to finish his search while praying he’d saved enough mana to get back home. With his prize.

The memories of his last day in that world are blurred, the only clear one is of the well-hidden magic inside her blinding him when they got close enough. A burst of joy. Success. It had been at the last possible moment, but he'd managed to bring her home with him. Sloppily. Which is why they are out here in the middle of nowhere instead of at his family’s castle.

Man, it’s going to take them forever to get there.

Snorting, Aster looks at his arm and the colorful little spells attached to his skin. Useless. The girl has magic. Even from this distance, he can feel it inside of her, buzzing to get out, to be used. Her potential is staggering. No matter what she says, she’s the Chosen. She must be.

He pokes one of the feline faces, a yellow one. Nothing happens. No surprise there. Why would she resort to something like this when she has all that power pulsing within her? Then he remembers her world. The heaviness of the air, the dead land, the ugly mechanical things, and it makes more sense. He rubs at his sore eyes. His entire body aches, every limb heavy. But there’s no time to rest, they need to get going.

“Are you putting down roots there or what?” he shouts, now waving both arms to get her attention, and she glares at him.

Good, she’s got some fire in her after all. She shoves the last of the ridiculous, feline protective spells back in her bag and waves back.

“Hold on, I’m coming.”

Of course, she is, she has no other choice. Alone in a new world. Clueless. Depending on him. Something stirs in his gut, where his conscience rests, but he firmly pushes it back. He doesn’t have a choice either. Not really.