Survival Magic Elements

(omniscient narrator):
You had just arrived from a foreign region that was isolated; you couldn't remember its name.

Nor where you came from.

Nor if you had ever laughed.

You only knew how to walk. And that each step was heavier than the last.

The world surrounding you wasn't a world as such… rather, it was the echo of one. Hills still covered in black scars. Trees that seemed to whisper old prayers to a memoryless sky. And a breeze… a breeze that, at times, seemed to breathe with you. As if the air itself were trying to remind you of something.

But it didn't.

You didn't know what that energy beating inside your chest was, which grew warm with anger and fell silent with weeping. You didn't know that others called it a soul. That it was both your condemnation and your salvation. You only knew that, in certain moments of desperation, when your body should have given in, the ground trembled beneath your feet, or the rain receded, or the fire danced around you like a loyal dog.

And you didn't understand why.

Others walked too. Lost. Mutated. Aged without time. Some spoke of giants that slept beneath the earth and whose whisper was still born in the bones of the mountains. Others feared the titanic beasts that crossed the horizons like living legends: the Leviathans. And others, the oldest, spoke of a tree.

A tree taller than any tower, whose roots touched buried memories, and whose branches, they said, held the soul of the world. Leefus, a place where everyone was accepted equally to seek the survival of the human race in general.

Many walked toward it. Not out of faith. Nor for glory. But because there was nowhere else to go. Because the earth devoured the lonely… and because deep down, even the most broken of humans knew that their soul could still bloom.

Even if they didn't know their name.