Riding in the carriage wasn't just boring. It was murderously slow. With every passing second, I could feel myself aging.

  "Alright," I muttered. "Rot in this can by yourselves. I'm going to breathe something that doesn't smell like Alexia's perfume."

  POP.

  I was on the roof of the carriage. Wind in my face, wide open space, and zero chatter about "reputation." Ahead, a dense, ancient forest loomed. This place seemed far more suited for airing out my brain than a velvet-lined cabin.

  POP.

  I stood among the mossy trunks. The silence here was thick as jelly. I walked, listening to the crunch of branches under my boots, until I stumbled upon a strange little mound. The mound shifted, turned around, and stared at me with glowing eyes. Its entire back was covered in a thick layer of moss.

  "Oh, hey there, Leshy," I said, crouching down on a nearby stump. "I thought you guys went extinct a long time ago. Guess you're still around after all. Hiding?"

  The forest spirit stayed silent for a long time, scanning me with his phosphorescent gaze. "What do you want?" his voice sounded as quiet as the rustle of dry leaves. "Oh, I don't need anything. I just came out to get some fresh air. Honestly, didn't expect to see you here. Just taking a walk."

  The Leshy thought for a bit longer, apparently deciding I wasn't a threat (or maybe just deciding I was far too weird to be a hunter), and simply dissolved into the ground, leaving behind nothing but the smell of damp pine needles.

  I stood up and kept walking, kicking fallen leaves with the toe of my boot. Why am I doing all this? Why do I cling so desperately to the crumbs of my past? Maybe it would be much better if I just lived every cycle as a new person, without knowing my history. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

  I lazily kicked a stone in my path. It flew a couple of meters and landed perfectly inside a burrow under the roots of an oak tree. A second later, a terrified rabbit darted out. She froze half a meter away, staring at me with black, beady eyes.

  "Your heart is beating so fast," I whispered, squatting down. "I can hear the rhythm from all the way over here. Thump-thump-thump... Are you scared?"

  I reached into my pocket and fished out one of Alexia's candies. Carefully unwrapped the foil. "Look, a tasty treat. Royal standard."

  I tossed the candy at her paws. The rabbit sniffed the dark little ball suspiciously, then abruptly snatched it in her teeth and vanished into the burrow. "You poisoned her..." I heard a muffled whisper from somewhere under the ground.

  I smirked, looking at the empty wrapper in my hand. "Don't worry so much, Leshy. It's just sugar. No one has ever died from it... immediately, anyway."

  I wandered further, inhaling the smell of damp earth, until the bushes ahead began to rustle. Pushing the branches aside, I came face-to-face with a boar. The beast lay on its side, breathing heavily. A hunting arrow was driven deep into its hind leg.

  "Yeah, buddy," I muttered, examining it. "Honestly, I'd gladly eat you right now. You'd make a great roast."

  But something about this wound didn't sit right with me. The fletching on the arrow was too rich for a common hunter. Looked like someone shot it just for fun and let it run, just to watch it suffer. There were no humans in this forest right now, but the trails of their stupidity stretched everywhere.

  "Alright, not today," I sighed.

  I grabbed the shaft and yanked the arrow out sharply. The boar wheezed, jerking from the pain. I simply pressed my palm against the wound. Zing.

  The skin knit together instantly, leaving not even a scar. The boar blinked, scrambled up onto its hooves, and—without so much as a "thank you" (which is logical for a pig)—bolted into the thicket.

  "I see you hand out more than just sugar," a whisper echoed. From beneath the earth, right at my feet, the Leshy grew. He no longer looked threatening. "Follow me," he tossed out.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The Leshy dissolved into the soil, moving as a gray shadow beneath the roots. I had to speed up so I wouldn't lose sight of him. We ran for about five minutes until we reached a hidden cave overgrown with thorny bushes.

  The Leshy rose to his full height and pointed a gnarled finger inside. His voice, usually resembling the creak of wood, was trembling now. "He... he needs help. I tried to stop it, but I couldn't."

  I walked inside. Deep in the cave, chained to the rock wall, sat a griffon. It was a miserable sight. A heavy iron collar was tightened around his neck, with identical rings on his paws. The metal cut deep into the flesh, the wounds bleeding, his feathers matted with dried blood.

  He hissed upon seeing my companion. The beast's eyes were cloudy with pain and fever. "Please, help him," the Leshy rustled.

  I stepped closer. The griffon flinched, but he had no strength left to resist. I simply placed my hand on his chest. Warmth flowed from my fingers, burning away the infection and gluing the torn vessels back together. A second later, the wounds closed, leaving healthy skin beneath the iron.

  "Now for these trinkets," I muttered. Two short, sharp strikes. I didn't use pure magic—I just channeled a pulse of kinetic force into my knuckles.

  CRACK. CLANG. The iron shattered like dry macaroni. Shards of the rings flew across the cave with a loud ring.

  The griffon jumped up immediately. He spread his massive wings, nearly scraping the roof of the cave, and let out a shriek so joyful and piercing it made my ears pop. He started spinning in place, flapping his wings and kicking up a cloud of dust. Alive, healthy, and extremely energetic.

  The Leshy turned to me. His face remained immovable bark, but right where a human's mouth would normally be, a distinct, warm crease appeared. He was smiling.

  I stepped out of the cave, planning to quietly teleport back to the carriage, but fate had other plans. Fate, this time, weighed a couple of tons and possessed a beak and feathers.

  The griffon gently but firmly grabbed me by the scruff of the neck with his beak, like a kitten, and with one deft motion, tossed me onto his back. "Hey!" I protested, grabbing onto the stiff feathers. "I know how to fly on my own, you know! Let me go, bird!"

  The griffon only let out a triumphant clatter, clearly having no intention of letting me go. Apparently, a mixture of gratitude and pure stubbornness had flared up inside him. "Alright," I thought, settling in more comfortably. "I'll take the scenic route. Better than swallowing dust."

  He soared into the clouds. Five minutes of pure bliss: cold air, clouds tickling his belly, and zero politics. But the familiar roofs of the carriages appeared on the path ahead. Time to end the joyride.

  "Alright, this is my stop! Disembarking!" I simply slid right off his back into the void. A second of freefall, the wind whistling in my ears...

  POP. A teleport straight onto the roof of the moving carriage. I landed softly; not even the suspension springs creaked.

  It's all so strange. I did a good deed, saved a griffon, and yet inside... the usual "nothing." The emptiness hadn't gone anywhere; it had just become slightly warmer for a brief moment.

  "Greg? Is that you stomping around up there?" Alexia's muffled voice came from inside. "Come in already, stop wearing down the roof."

  I sighed and phased inside. Twilight reigned in the carriage. Lianel was asleep, her head tossed back against the soft seat.

  "What do you want?" I asked, sitting down across from Alexia. "I'm bored," she rested her cheek on her hand. "Lianel is snoring, I'm tired of reading, and there are nothing but trees out the window. Entertain me."

  I looked at her smug face and remembered the morning's "psycho-magic session," where I was utilized as an ottoman. Fine fine glowing yellow sand began to form on its own in my hand. It sifted between my fingers, sparkling in the dim light.

  "And what is that?" Alexia leaned forward, intrigued. "A long time ago, I had an acquaintance," I lazily poured the sand from one palm to the other. "He called himself the 'Sandman'... or just Sand. I don't remember exactly. He taught me a trick."

  I didn't wait for questions. A light flick of the wrist—and a cloud of golden dust enveloped Alexia.

  She didn't even have time to say "oh." Her eyes instantly glazed over, her eyelids grew heavy, and a second later she was snoring peacefully, her nose buried in her collar.

  I leaned back against the seat, looking at the two sleeping princesses. "There we go," I muttered, closing my eyes. "Finally, some quiet. Did you think you were the only one who knew how to 'power people down'? For every master, there is a handful of sand."

  Sand magic is an honest thing—it doesn't discriminate between targets if you're standing in the epicenter of the cloud yourself.

  I rested the back of my head against the velvet upholstery, watching the two sleeping girls. One lazy thought tumbled around in my head: "What am I even doing?" I am a being who remembers (even if only in fragments) the fall of empires. I could wipe that forest off the face of the earth with a single snap of my fingers. And instead, I'm sitting in a cramped wooden box using secret sleep magic on two teenage girls simply because I got bored.

  This is an entirely new level of degradation. And it feels so nice to degrade...

  The carriage wheels rhythmically clattered over the stones. CLACK-CLACK. CLACK-CLACK. The sound burrowed under my skull, lulling the remaining shreds of my consciousness.

  A whole week. I had to ride in this enclosed space for an entire week. One hundred and sixty-eight hours of conversations about etiquette, sideways glances, and head pats.

  "Looks like," I mumbled, feeling reality begin to blur, "this is going to be my most brutal trial yet."

  I closed my eyes. If I'm lucky, I'll sleep all the way to the border. And if not... well, I still have plenty of sand in my pocket.