Trinity of Magic

“Don’t slow down!”

The shout jolted Leo out of his haze, but the clarity lasted only a heartbeat. His body’s weakness reasserted itself almost immediately. His lungs burned so fiercely that the pain drowned out every other sensation. His legs had gone numb, their weight dragging at him with every step.

Even so, he did not falter. Hesitation meant death. Weakness meant death. Indulgence was death.

That had been the truth of his life from the moment he set foot in this forsaken place—ever since he first crossed blades with the Ehrenlegion.

Through bleary eyes, he could just make out the figures around him: His few remaining comrades from Korrovan. Former slaves turned soldiers. Each had faced death a hundred times at his side, and each had paid the price. Fewer than half a dozen remained of their original number.

Surrounding them ran tall figures with pale hair. Once slender and graceful, they were now caked in dirt and grime from weeks of brutal battles and desperate retreats. Little remained of their noble elven heritage.

The Resistance.

At least, that was what they called themselves. But it was more wishful fantasy than reality. In truth, they were simply the most capable among the victims, fast enough to retreat before being cut down.

They fought, yes—but only to survive. The only thing they truly resisted was their imminent execution.

A sharp pain jolted him back to his senses. His shoulder burned as if pierced by a needle—no, not one, but five. A quick glance confirmed it: Ripper’s talons were dug into his flesh.

Leo looked up to find her face far too close to his own.

The feline woman stared at him with the same wearied seriousness she had worn for weeks.

“Don’t slow down.”

She repeated the words calmly this time, yet they struck him harder than before. Only then did Leo notice his steps had faltered and their comrades were pulling farther ahead with every moment.

He forced himself into a slow jog. Ripper moved beside him, unwilling to trust that he wouldn’t fall behind again if left alone. He was grateful for her care. He didn’t trust himself either.

Despite all the time spent with them, he was not one of the Chimeroi, and his human body was far weaker than theirs. While they had grown used to frantic retreats and endless running, each day left him more drained.

While he struggled to maintain even this slow pace, Ripper jogged backward, her sharp eyes scanning the skies.

He knew exactly what she feared. Empire flyers. If they were spotted now, rest would be out of the question—their escape would stretch on for days.

The flyers were like bloodhounds.

Once they caught your scent, shaking them off was nearly impossible. Only by leaving their perimeter entirely could you force them to retreat.

Easier said than done.

Guided by an invisible web of Mind Mages, the entire Ehrenlegion moved with seamless coordination.

There was no friction between units, no mismanagement to exploit. They shared information instantly across any distance, launching coordinated strikes without setup or warning. It was as if a single mind orchestrated the entire invasion, moving each piece with perfect precision.

That was the power of the Legion. That was the power of the Empire.

With every day spent in this brutal warzone, Leo came to understand more clearly the oppressive might of the Empire. It was no wonder so many regarded the elemental affinities as supreme. Not because any one of them dominated alone, but because together they formed a devastating force.

Wind carried their spies faster than any runner.

Earth secured their positions with impregnable defenses.

Water commanded the rivers, seas, and lakes.

And Fire burned all that stood in their path.

This created an army that seemed unstoppable. Though the Alliance had managed to halt them on the eastern front, it had taken years of preparation and staggering sacrifice. Here, however, the Empire’s devastating strength was laid bare.

The Ehrenlegion was the kind of elite fighting force every nation dreamed of possessing. An army composed entirely of Mages, where even the weakest among them were on par with Leo and his crew.

Despite considering himself accomplished, Leo wasn’t confident he could face more than two of them at once. Their coordination and unity turned their numbers into a weapon more lethal than any spell.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

And for the first time since he had gone to war, Leo felt wholly inadequate. Here, he was nothing more than a speck of dust, carried and crushed by the true forces at play. It made him realize just how sheltered they had been on the eastern front, where he had fought alongside the young scions of noble houses.

They had believed themselves to be great warriors, clashing with the Empire. Only now did he understand those battles had been little more than playfights for children, while the real war raged elsewhere.

But he had abandoned that security when he chose to come to Rukia. A foolish choice. A choice that had cost him and his companions dearly. Many had paid the ultimate price for his arrogance.

That thought weighed on him more heavily than exhaustion ever could. Once again, Leo realized he wasn’t cut out for the weight of command. Zeke had sent him to the front under the Alliance’s protection, and in that environment, they had thrived. It had been the perfect place.

But it hadn’t been enough for him. He had felt stifled by the constant oversight. He had thought himself capable of striking out on his own.

If only…

If only he had possessed even half the wit of his adoptive brother, he wouldn’t have led his men to their deaths so pointlessly. He wouldn’t have stood helpless as they were burned to ash beneath a torrent of fire.

Leo bit his lip, forcing his mind back under control. This was not the time for such thoughts. His self-recriminations could wait until they were safe.

He opened his eyes wide, catching sight of something he had desperately hoped for on the horizon.

Green.

The color of safety.

A vast forest slowly rose into view, each tree bringing a small measure of relief. Despite everything, a faint smile tugged at his lips as the first shapes sharpened before him. Even Ripper’s tense shoulders eased as they passed beneath the canopy’s shade.

No flyer would spot them here.

It was the only real refuge left against the Ehrenlegion’s constant pursuit. Perhaps that was why the Empire was so intent on burning the forests to the ground. Luckily, the many Nature Mages among the half-elves could raise them back almost as quickly as the flames devoured them.

It was the only reason the resistance still endured at all.

They entered the forest at the same time as their comrades, having finally caught up. Their leader guided them deeper inside, moving with the certainty of one who knew the way.

Soon, the forest grew so dense that passage should have been impossible—if not for the path that seemed to part for them, as though the woods themselves were welcoming them in.

Leo followed with careful steps, at last allowing his body to relax. Such moments were rare, and he knew he had to make use of every second. No one could say when they would be forced to flee again.

Finally, they arrived before a barrier of raw nature, appearing as impenetrable as a wall of stone. Their leader came to a halt.

“I am Randar, leader of the Seventh.”

Silence followed, broken only by a voice that drifted from somewhere within the living wall.

“Where do you hail from, Randar?”

“We come from the far west. Most recently, we were stationed in Duskwood Forest.”

“…What happened in Duskwood?”

The voice held a sharp edge of unease.

“Five days ago, the forest was attacked. We were powerless against their might.”

Another pause.

“…What of the guardians of the forest?”

Randar shook his head. “The last I saw of them, they each stood against the Legion’s all-consuming flames.”

A curse slipped from the hidden speaker, but even as it did, a path opened within the wall.

“Enter. Quickly.”

Their troop slipped inside, the barrier closing behind them as seamlessly as it had opened. Leo found himself in a vast space. The sun was invisible through the thick canopy, yet the area glowed with clusters of bioluminescent flowers and moss clinging to the trees.

A turquoise light bathed everything, casting eerie shadows across every face. Leo had long since grown used to it. All the hideouts looked much the same.

“Halt!”

The commanding voice came from a young man leading a squad of soldiers who quickly surrounded them.

They obeyed without hesitation. Leo already knew what this was about.

“Approach me, one by one,” the man ordered, holding a peculiar flower in his hand.

Randar went first. As he stepped forward, the man held the flower toward him. When it showed no reaction, he was waved through.

One by one, the others followed, each passing without incident.

The process was painfully slow, but absolutely necessary.

At last, it was Leo’s turn. His eyes fixed on the flower, praying it wouldn’t react. A moment passed, then another, but the bloom remained still.

Leo exhaled as he was waved through.

The Mindeater flower, as it was called, reacted strongly to the presence of Mind Magic. It was their only reliable method of rooting out those under its influence, a safeguard born after far too many bases had fallen to traitors.

The worst part?

Most of those people hadn’t even realized they were compromised. A chilling thought. If Leo had ever been captured and turned into an unwitting pawn, he wouldn’t even remember it. Only the flower could reveal such corruption.

Before they were allowed deeper inside, the guardsman raised a hand, halting the group.

“Which of you is Leo von Hohenheim?”

Leo stepped forward, already familiar with this routine. As expected, the man reached into his robe and produced a sealed letter.

“…When you see your brother, thank him for the intel he provided, alright?” the guard said, eyeing him with a hint of respect.

Leo nodded and accepted the letter.

Once again, Zeke had predicted his movements and sent word ahead. It was an eerie level of foresight, but Leo was grateful for it. Thanks to Ezekiel’s network, he was welcomed wherever he went—human or not.

The moment he opened the letter, Leo noticed how the people around him drew closer. He didn’t stop them. Ezekiel’s letters always carried news of the wider war, updates on the world, and even detailed reports on the movements of the Ehrenlegion.

Such information could mean the difference between life and death, so Leo never kept it to himself.

Despite his better judgment, hope always stirred in him whenever he received one of these letters. Time and again, that hope had been crushed, yet still, foolish or not, he let it rise anew each time.

His eyes raced over the first few lines, braced for disappointment, but…

Excited murmurs rippled through the group.

The alliance had developed a tool to transport men and supplies undetected by the Empire? Progress on the Western Front? Reinforcements possibly arriving within weeks? The elves convening their High Council to address Rukia’s plight once more?

Leo could hardly believe what he was reading. Could it be true? After months of nothing but despair, was the tide finally beginning to turn?

“What’s it say?” Ripper asked beside him. Though she couldn’t read, the excitement in the air was unmistakable.

Leo opened his mouth, but no sound came. His lips were cracked, his throat parched. Gathering what little moisture he could, he managed to croak out a single word.

“Hope.”