The cracked, sun-baked earth stretched out like a forgotten god's discarded canvas – endless, desolate, and thirsty for blood.

  Alec, his throat as dry as the surrounding dunes, found himself smack-dab in the middle of this wasteland nightmare, encircled by a pack of magical beasts that looked like they'd skipped their last ten meals.

  And, oh boy, did they look hungry.

  These weren't your average puppies.

  Think wolves crossed with radioactive porcupines, with a dash of "I'm going to eat your face" thrown in for good measure.

  Their eyes glowed with an unnatural, sickly green light, and their growls rumbled like distant, angry thunder.

  Alec knew that being caught was a one-way ticket to becoming beast chow.

  Panic was a luxury he couldn't afford.

  His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drum solo accompanying the symphony of his impending doom.

  He'd only just stumbled upon this "golden finger" – a mystical artifact, now humming faintly beneath his ragged shirt, that supposedly allowed him to siphon magic from, well, *everything*.

  The problem?

  He had the user manual equivalent of a toddler's scribbles.

  "Okay, magic-sucky-thingy," Alec muttered, dodging a swipe from a beast that left a glowing, sizzling trail in the air.

  "Time to earn your keep."

  He focused, picturing the raw, chaotic magic that crackled around the beasts.

  It felt like trying to grab a fistful of lightning – wild, untamed, and definitely not user-friendly.

  The beasts closed in, their hot, fetid breath washing over him.

  One lunged, jaws wide, spittle flying…

  And then, *zing*.

  A jolt, a surge of power, not entirely unpleasant, coursed through Alec.

  He instinctively lashed out, a clumsy, half-formed blast of energy erupting from his palm.

  It wasn't pretty, but it was enough.

  The beast yelped, tumbling backward in a cloud of dust and singed fur.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Alec stared at his hand, dumbfounded.

  "Holy crap, it actually worked!"

  Hidden amongst the rocks a short distance away, Garth, a seasoned adventurer with a face that could curdle milk, watched with narrowed eyes.

  A vein throbbed in his forehead, a testament to the green-eyed monster gnawing at his soul.

  "Beginner's luck," he spat under his breath.

  "Just you wait…"

  Alec, still buzzing from his near-death experience and accidental magic trick, pushed on.

  The landscape remained a monotonous canvas of browns and grays, the sun a relentless, burning eye in the sky.

  He had to find the source, the rumored wellspring of stable magic deep in the heart of the wasteland.

  That's when he saw her.

  Selena.

  Like a mirage shimmering in the heat haze, she was the embodiment of deadly grace.

  Lean, muscular, with eyes that could pierce steel and curves that could make a saint reconsider his vows, she moved with the effortless fluidity of a predator.

  She was, to put it mildly, *breathtaking*.

  Alec, still covered in dust and the lingering smell of singed beast fur, felt like a particularly grubby goblin trying to approach a goddess.

  "Uh, hi," he stammered, instantly regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment.

  Selena turned, her gaze sweeping over him with the detached assessment of a butcher sizing up a side of beef.

  She'd heard whispers of a newcomer seeking the magical source, a foolhardy kid with more ambition than sense.

  "You," she stated, her voice cool and devoid of warmth.

  It wasn't a question.

  She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, a silent challenge, and then turned, dismissing him with the ease of swatting a fly.

  Alec's newfound confidence took a nosedive.

  He opened his mouth to say something, *anything*, but she was already moving away, her form melting into the shimmering heat haze like a desert phantom.

  He sighed.

  "Smooth, Alec. Real smooth."

  The wasteland, however, had more surprises in store.

  A sudden, howling wind whipped up, engulfing him in a swirling vortex of sand and grit.

  Visibility dropped to zero.

  He stumbled, blindly seeking shelter, and found it in the gaping maw of a long-abandoned mine shaft.

  Inside, the air was thick with the scent of dust and something else… something metallic and faintly magical.

  As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw a figure huddled near a crumbling wall.

  Garth.

  "Well, well," Garth said, his voice dripping with false camaraderie.

  "Fancy meeting you here. Looks like we're both after the same thing. Strength in numbers, eh? We should team up."

  Alec felt a prickle of unease.

  Garth's smile was a little too wide, a little too eager.

  The seasoned adventurer's eyes, however, held a glint of something cold and calculating.

  Alec's gut screamed "trap," but his head, still reeling from the day's events, struggled with a more fundamental question: could he trust *anyone* in this forsaken land?

  Before Alec could fully grapple with his existential crisis, a new voice cut through the darkness.

  "I wouldn't trust him if I were you," a woman said, stepping out of the shadows.

  It was Zara, a scholar known for her sharp mind and even sharper tongue.

  "He's been eyeing that trinket of yours since you blasted that fuzzball back to the Stone Age."

  Garth sputtered, his face turning a delightful shade of purple.

  "I… I don't know what you're talking about!"

  Zara ignored him, turning to Alec.

  "I need your… *ability*," she said, her gaze lingering on the spot where the artifact rested beneath his shirt.

  "The source is protected by ancient wards. Only someone with your… unique gift can bypass them. We can help each other."

  Garth, defeated and furious, stormed off into the deeper recesses of the mine, muttering darkly about "ungrateful brats" and "stolen glory."

  Alec looked from Zara's intense, calculating gaze to the dark, receding back of Garth.

  "So" Zara drawled. "Partner?"

  The words hung in the air.