MORTAL FREEDOM

Wilson woke to the sound of crackling firewood and the distant calls of birds. His head throbbed, and his limbs ached as though he had been running for days. The faint, earthy scent of burning wood and herbs filled the room, grounding him in the present. Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking against the dim light.

The cabin was small, but it felt alive. Maps were pinned haphazardly across the wooden walls, covered in detailed markings, strange runes, and notes scrawled in a handwriting that seemed simultaneously frantic and meticulous. A telescope stood by the window, aimed at the canopy of trees, and shelves overflowed with ancient books, weathered journals, and strange trinkets that glimmered faintly in the low light. A large compass, its needle twitching erratically, rested on a nearby table alongside a collection of tools and artifacts that looked as though they belonged in a museum.

Wilson's heart raced as unease crept over him. This was not a rebel camp. This was not the Ministry. Where was he? His last memory was of running through the forest, consumed by guilt and fear, until darkness overtook him.

He sat up too quickly, and his head spun. His body swayed, unsteady on the cot. For a moment, he thought he might collapse again, but the cold floor beneath his feet steadied him. He scanned the room, his eyes narrowing at the unfamiliar surroundings. His pulse quickened. Who had brought him here? And why?

The door creaked softly, a breeze filtering in from outside. Without thinking, Wilson stumbled toward it, his instincts screaming for him to escape. He shoved the door open and froze.

A STRANGE NEW SCENE

The cabin was nestled in a small clearing, surrounded by towering trees that reached so high they seemed to scrape the clouds. Morning light streamed through the gaps in the branches, casting a golden glow over the clearing. A wooden table sat in the center, laden with plates, bowls, and a steaming pot. The smell of freshly cooked stew hung in the air, making Wilson's stomach twist with sudden hunger.

Beside the table stood a woman. Her back was turned, and she moved with quiet precision, tending to the pot over an open flame. Her dark hair, streaked with silver, fell past her shoulders, and her practical clothing a patched jacket and sturdy boots suggested someone accustomed to solitude.

Wilson tensed, his gaze darting around the clearing. No guards. No signs of danger. Just her.

The woman turned, her sharp green eyes locking onto his. Her expression was calm, almost inviting, but there was something unreadable in her gaze. She wiped her hands on a cloth and gestured toward the table.

"Ah, you're awake," she said, her voice steady but tinged with curiosity. "You must be starving. Come, sit."

Wilson's fists clenched at his sides. "Who are you? Where am I?"

The woman raised an eyebrow, her expression unflinching. "All in good time. First, eat. You'll need your strength."

Wilson hesitated, his stomach growling in betrayal. He wanted to demand answers, but his hunger was undeniable. Reluctantly, he approached the table and sat down. The woman ladled stew into two bowls, placing one in front of him before taking a seat across from him.

The meal was awkward, the silence punctuated only by the clinking of spoons against ceramic. Wilson ate cautiously, his eyes never leaving the woman as she ate with deliberate calm. The stew was surprisingly good rich, hearty, and warming but it did little to ease the tension in his chest.

When his bowl was empty, Wilson set it down with a sharp clatter. "Okay," he said, his voice cutting through the stillness. "I've eaten. Now tell me; who are you? Why did you save me? And what do you want from me?"

The woman leaned back in her chair, studying him with an intensity that made him squirm. "My name is Louis," she said finally. "And as for why I saved you… let's just say I don't share the Ministrians' enthusiasm for cruelty."

Wilson frowned. "The Ministrians? What do you have to do with them?"

Louis's expression darkened, her eyes flickering with something between anger and regret. "Everything," she said softly. "A long time ago, I was one of them."

THE EXPLORERS' DREAM

Wilson froze, his mind reeling. "You were… one of them? You worked for the Ministry?"

Louis nodded slowly, her gaze distant. "Yes. But it wasn't what you think. Back then, the Ministry didn't exist. There were no tyrants, no armies, and no domination. We weren't rulers. We were explorers."

Her voice softened as she continued, her words laced with nostalgia. "Dominic, Sparta, Phil, Gringo, Sassy, Jeffery, and I… we were part of a team. Scientists, adventurers, dreamers. We wanted to understand the world, to uncover its secrets and preserve its wonders."

Louis's lips curled into a faint smile. "It started with legends. Stories of a mythical energy source that could bend the fabric of nature itself. Most dismissed it as a fairy tale, but I believed it was real. I had spent years piecing together fragments of ancient texts, maps, and carvings. Everything pointed to one location: the Cave of the Surge."

Wilson leaned forward, despite himself. "What was it like?"

Louis's eyes lit up as she spoke. "Reaching it was no small feat. It took months of preparation and weeks of travel through uncharted wilderness. The terrain was treacherous, icy peaks, crumbling cliffs, dense forests. We lost two members of our team before we even reached the cave."

Her voice grew reverent. "The entrance was hidden beneath a waterfall, shrouded in mist and moss. At first, it looked like nothing more than an ordinary cavern. But as we ventured deeper… everything changed."

THE CAVE OF THE SURGE

Louis's voice took on a hypnotic quality. "The walls were lined with crystals towering formations that shimmered with an inner light. They pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat, lighting our way through the darkness. The air was thick with energy, humming with a vibration you could feel in your bones."

She gestured toward the cabin, as though the maps and artifacts around them were echoes of that place. "But the crystals weren't just beautiful. They were a language. The carvings on the walls told a story—a story of balance, of life and death, of creation and destruction."

Wilson stared at her, captivated. "What kind of story?"

"A warning," Louis said. "The carvings showed how Mage thrived when its energies were in harmony. But they also showed what happened when that balance was broken: chaos, destruction, decay."

Her gaze hardened. "At the heart of the cave was the Surge. It wasn't just energy it was alive. A pool of pure, glowing light, pulsing like a living thing. It was beautiful. Overwhelming. Terrifying."

DOMINIC'S BETRAYAL

Louis's expression darkened, her tone growing bitter. "At first, we agreed to study it, to understand its nature. I believed it was something sacred, something that needed to be protected. But Dominic… he saw it differently."

She paused, her hands tightening into fists. "He believed the Surge wasn't just a force of nature but it was a tool. A means to reshape Mage, to bend the world to his will."

Her voice cracked slightly. "He wasn't always like this. Back then, he was… ambitious, yes, but kind. Passionate. He and I" She stopped abruptly, her expression tightening. "I didn't realize how far he was willing to go until it was too late."

Wilson's stomach churned. "What did he do?"

"He began experimenting," Louis said, her voice heavy with regret. "He harnessed the Surge in ways none of us understood. It changed him and not just physically. He became… colder. Ruthless. And he wasn't the only one. Sparta, Phil, and the others followed his lead, each of them taking a piece of the Surge for themselves."

Her eyes met Wilson's, filled with a quiet fury. "They became immortal, yes. But in doing so, they shattered the balance the cave warned us about. They drained Mage's life force for their own gain."

A NEW HOPE

Wilson shook his head, his chest tightening. "And you? Why didn't you stop them?"

"I tried," Louis said softly. "But Dominic… he made it clear I wasn't welcome anymore. I left before they could force me to join them. Before they could twist me into something I didn't want to be."

She leaned forward, her eyes piercing. "That's why I saved you, Wilson. The Surge chose you. I don't know why or how, but it did. And now, you have a choice."

Wilson swallowed hard, panic rising in his chest. "What choice? I can't control it. Every time I try, it feels like it's going to tear me apart."

"That's because you're fighting it," Louis said. "The Surge isn't just power it's a living force. You can't dominate it. But right now it's chattered among the Ministrians and you, making it just a source of power, but you have to understand it. Connect with it."

Wilson stared at her, his voice trembling. "And how am I supposed to do that?"

Louis smiled faintly. "That's what I'm going to teach you."