I wish I had the power to make sure nothing like this ever happens again.

  I wish I had the power of water.

  When Rowan had these thoughts, the desire of his earnest wish after witnessing the death of his siblings and village was fulfilled. As he stood in front of the two graves that contained his little twin siblings—Max and Amy—covered in the viscous crimson blood of them, his neighbors and friends; streams of water rose from the lake began to swirl around him.

  As they swirled he heard inaudible murmurs of intent from them in the form of images. He saw dew gathering upon a blade of grass, raindrops falling from the sky and a wave crashing into shore. He also saw a nomad in a desert drinking great gulps of water in an oasis, a sapling growing as rain and sunlight provided nourishment and finally himself.

  Except it was a vision of himself being cleaned by streams of water like those that swirled around him and it felt as though the images were saying that they could cleanse himself if he wished. He heeded this whisper of intent from the water.

  He focused upon a newfound connection that he felt with the water, distinct from his admiration and observation of the past. It felt as though—a distinct set of words appeared in his mind like raindrops falling from the sky—his thread of fate and the origin of water were interwoven.

  He focused upon the connection and pushed a thought towards the water along their interwoven threads. Cleanse me. The water obliged, the streams of water forming into a sphere larger than him that encompassed him, yet he could still breathe as if he was not underwater. The sphere then increased pressure and local currents formed that swept the gore and blood away.

  After it finished, Rowan felt refreshed but also drained. It wasn’t the exhaustion that he felt when sleep-deprived or when he had been chopping wood for old man Moro, it was simply as though the energy that allowed him to make use of his connection to water was depleted.

  The streams of water collapsed into the ground with a splash, but even his simple brown tunic and trousers had been washed completely clean from blood and guts. It was as if the cleansing property of water had been enhanced through his command.

  He wished that he could also wash the village clean and put the rest of the villagers to rest, but he knew that he did not have enough—a wave crashed into the embankment of his mind—potential reserves to accomplish such a massive task.

  Rowan noticed that both when he had realized his thread of fate had been woven with the origin of water and just now, that information appeared in his mind that he shouldn’t know and it carried the unmistakable influence of water upon it.

  It felt as though his mind and body were now partially infused with water and he wondered what implications this would carry. It was odd, how when he had wished earnestly for the power of water his wish had been granted.

  He had wished that he could make sure that nothing like this ever happened again and he now had the nascent power where he could embark upon a path to make this happen. He looked towards the graves he had made for his siblings, then back to his village that used to be a place of peace and simplicity.

  He vowed not to lose himself in the momentum of vengeance that the inari man had spoken of. He had seen the consequences of this and worried about the soul of the inari man. Old man Moro always said that everybody has a soul and that your actions are imprinted upon the soul forever.

  Rowan took this to heart. He wanted to live a simple, good life like he had been taught in his village, but also wanted to wield the power to defend such a life. Perhaps that was a paradox, but the inari man had demonstrated that without power you were at the mercy of those who did have power.

  For now, he took one last look at the graves of his siblings and spoke softly, tears once more welling in his eyes as he remembered their laughter, joy and pestering, “Bye Max. Bye Amy, I hope we’ll meet again one day, if there is truly a life after death like old man Moro would say.”

  He then turned around and headed back to his little boat. He didn’t know where he would go but he knew that he couldn’t stay here any longer, the memories too fresh and visceral, the sight of his headless siblings and butchered neighbors haunting his mind.

  He had to get away.

  So Rowan climbed onto his rowboat with nothing more than the clothes on his back, a fishing pole, some bait and one copperback and pushed off the shore, drifting towards unknown destinations; his only goal was to grow in power in order prevent another tragedy like this from happening.

  As he drifted, the water comforted him, murmuring to him of all the wonders it experienced. From droplets of water dripping off of stalactites in caves to distant oceans filled with myriad life and civilizations, the water spoke to him of currents that ebb and flow, change and the fluidity of life.

  Rowan listened carefully as he attempted to paddle through the lake with one hand. Even though he did not send any intent to the water, it still aided him. Currents formed upon the tranquil lake, leading him towards unknown destinations.

  He let them, trusting that the water would not lead him astray. It was a sunny, beautiful day without a cloud in sight and the sky trees of the Never Ending Forest rose magnificently to scrape the sky above. He felt that his potential reserves quickly filled up upon this lake and he began to summon small orbs of water and experiment with them.

  After the increased cleansing capabilities of the water, he wondered what other aspects of water he could enhance. He began to infuse his intent for one orb of water to act like a storm, but he felt a strain upon his mind as concepts other than water began to whisper to him.

  Lightning and the wind and countless confluences sent images into his mind like the water and Rowan felt like his very sense of self was dissolving as countless—A current swept through his mind—conceptual origins challenged his authority and right to wield them..

  The water held them at bay, its whispers louder than theirs as it showed him images of him fishing upon a lake, swimming with his siblings or drinking a cup of water. These images centered him as the other concepts attempted to convince him that he should submit to their vast potential, rather than the other way around.

  He was surprised that the water was aware of his life, the image of his siblings sending sharp pangs of sorrow and longing through him. He sent his surprise towards the water and to his astonishment, the water responded with a series of nuanced images that formed into words in his mind.

  Do not be surprised, for as water I am aware of myriad aspects of life. The currents of my being flows through innumerable confluences. I have seen you, Rowan and I accepted the bond that Muse suggested, for you have always paid me great honor and demonstrated fluidity and support throughout your life. Yet you lack comprehension of the tempest. Tread carefully while harnessing origins.

  Rowan stopped his one handed rowing, unable to concentrate as countless images of water inundated his mind to form those words.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  You can speak to me?

  Yes for we are woven together.

  Thank you for cleaning me. Thank you for supporting the village and providing an environment for the fish to grow. Thank you for the joy you gave my siblings and myself.

  That is simply the nature of water. I nurture, I provide and I destroy. I flow and drip and crash. All within confluence. Now you are such a confluence, our wills are now in a synchronous harmony.

  Tha—

  His next words were interrupted as a frog the size of a toddler wielding a curved sword, riding on the back of a catfish came towards him with a prodigious alacrity. It was a completely ludicrous sight and Rowan had to blink to make sure that he was not dreaming or hallucinating.

  The frog was slightly humanoid, standing straighter and taller than a normal frog with opposable thumbs and dexterous hands, but besides that it was one hundred percent a frog. It had the head of a frog with two bulging green eyes with aquamarine pupils that were vertical slits, the legs of a frog and the torso of a frog.

  This frog called out, “Easy pickings, I see.”

  Then he leapt towards Rowan off the back of his catfish in the spry manner of frogs, his sword raised high in the air, metal reflecting the sunlight. The catfish began to circle around his little rowboat.

  Rowan felt the fury of the distant storm fill him. First the inari and now this damn frog. He could not command the storm itself, but a byproduct of the storm were waves and sent his intent into the water.

  Drown.

  The water surrounding him responded as waves rose into the air between him and the frog, but unlike normal waves, these waves were full of grasping tendrils that rose from the waves like arms and grasped at the frogs legs and feet.

  The frog shouted in surprise, “Wait! You are water-kin. Also, I’m a frog, what is a bit of wa—”

  Then there were nothing but gurgles as the water encompassed the frog and pressed upon him. Rowan tried to hold on, but felt a familiar exhaustion settle upon him. The water surrounding the frog collapsed and the frog flopped unceremoniously into the water, coughing up water like a drowned man.

  The frog spluttered in indignation as it floated on its back, occasionally spasming, “Bastard! using the water that raised me from a tadpole against me. The shame! The cruelty! The irony! The indignation!”

  Rowan’s eyebrow twitched,.“You attacked me, frog. Not the other way around.”

  “That was before I knew you were a water brother!” the frog exclaimed as if this were obvious.

  “Water brother?” Rowan repeated the phrase questioningly.

  “Yes! Obviously, you fool. Another beloved by the water. Yet—”

  The frog looked sad. “The water obviously cares about you more than me. For shame! If any watching frogalina saw such a sight they would want nothing to do with me. ”

  “Frogalina?”

  “Female frog, obviously. For a water brother, you sure are stupid.”

  Rowan’s eyebrow twitched once more. “Says a frog.”

  “Yes. A very intelligent frog.”

  “Who randomly attacks people like a pirate.”

  “Naturally. I must grow stronger.”

  Rowan’s eyebrow twitched once, then twice, then three times. “I’m gonna keep on paddling.”

  “Wait!” the frog cried, “What is your name, water brother?”

  “Nunya.”

  “Nice to meet you Nunya, I am—” the frog began.

  “Nunya business.” Rowan finished.

  “For shame! The indignation! If any frogalina with beautiful mucus saw they would never bear eggs from my seed.”

  “Too much information.”

  “No such thing amongst water brothers.”

  Rowan began paddling, ignoring the frog, using his replenishing reserves to move faster away from the infuriating melodramatic-pirate frog.

  Unfortunately, the frog clambered onto his catfish and kept pace.

  Water, please help.

  As the frog said, you are brothers of affinity. Despite the introduction, this could prove a boon. For the currents of fate ahead will be treacherous and the frog a capable combatant. I led you to this frog for a reason.

  Oh the shame! What indignation the cruel tides of fate toss me asunder, tearing apart my very mind through inane comments of an idiotic frog.

  These tides are gentle. Riptides lie ahead.

  Yes, water. Sorry water.

  Rowan muttered the last part of his speech-intent to the water as if it were a mother chastising him. The thought sent a distant pang through him, but it was faint.

  “Very well, frog. My name is Rowan.”

  “Rowan! My water brother! I am known as Taolo, my catfish steed Catafisha.”

  “Catafisha?” he repeated.

  Taolo beamed towards him, revealing a lack of teeth and a very long tongue.“Yes! A truly wondrous name if I say so myself.”

  “No. Not true. That is false.”

  “For shame! The indignity! If any frogalina princess saw me from far above in a turquoise tower, they would not glance my way twice. They would probably even take a salamander as their prince rather than me.”

  “That…..” Rowan shook his head.

  Taolo suddenly turned serious.“Enough banter. I saw you have a mighty affinity with water. I am considered prodigious, yet you encased me and turned the water into a hostile entity—against me—-Taolo the great.”

  Taolo paused and glanced at him with one bulging eye before continuing, “Nevertheless, your potential reserves are absolutely horrendous. This means you have little active potential. Are you not familiar with the throes of combat, Rowan?”

  “No” Rowan answered honestly, taken aback by the sudden shift that Taolo demonstrated, “I am not. I grew up in a small, peaceful village. But….”

  He blinked back tears and tried to hold his voice steady, “My village was destroyed. My siblings were killed. Everybody I ever knew…”

  Taolo responded in a cavalier tone, “A familiar story. Common even. How often do you think tadpoles survive?”

  Rowan considered the question. Many fish ate tadpoles, he assumed. “Not very many.”

  “An understatement. In the Never Ending Forest, less than one in a thousand. How many of these tadpoles who make it to frog-hood survive for more than a year?”

  Rowan saw where this was leading. “I apologize if my emotions seemed disrespectful.”

  Taolo shook his head and sighed, “Frogs are not humans or elves. We do not carry the same sentiments. I do not understand your pain, I am simply letting you know that is the nature of our realm. What killed your village?”

  “An inari with red and orange stripes. They were geometric and in their odd, thick tendril-like hair and swirling eyes.”

  Taolo hopped onto his boat and spoke sharply, “This far into the Never Ending Forest. An inari katan leader? Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Rowan responded simply.

  He was sure.

  “If the Inari Empire is launching another true offensive, the rivers will run red with blood, the forest naught but screams.” Taolo had a distant look in his eyes.

  “No,” Rowan responded, “It was only for revenge. Our village leader, Talaria, had been part of his katan and left. The inari said it was for the momentum of revenge.”

  Taolo breathed a sigh of relief. “Praise be to mud. This gladdens me.”

  Rowan thought of the destruction the inari had wrought, the movement when he had cut off his hand, flames swirling around his sword. “Are the inari truly so dangerous?”

  “Yes. More than you understand. They are in the process of conquering great swaths of the Warring Realm, attempting to expand their fledgeling empire.”

  “I see.” Rowan did not truly understand, having only lived within his village.

  But he grasped that they were dangerous and violent. That much had been evident from his experiences.

  “However,” Taolo said in a voice filled with optimism, “that is neither here nor there. We have a journey to begin, Rowan my water-brother!”

  “A journey?”

  “Yes. For together we shall climb the ten tiers of mortality and ascend, two water-brothers against the world.” Talo said and then intoned solemnly, “Hopefully there will be many frogalinas along the way.”

  “Frogalinas don’t interest me.”

  “We all have our flaws,” Taolo declared magnanimously.