Caspian slumped against a moss-covered boulder and peered out at the pine-laden lands around him, his broad chest heaving. His heart was pounding, and a stitch formed in his side. It had been some time since he’d run like that instead of spending his days rotting away in bed.

He eyed the crumpled brochure in his hand, his curiosity too strong to outright incinerate the thing. His fingers twitched, sparks dancing across his calloused skin. The paper was garishly colorful, adorned with a flowing script that shimmered in the light. The books back home, even the ones for kids, didn’t have as much color.

Ash, the strange silver-haired man who had chased him up the mountain, stood up and stretched. He was stocky, just like Caspian, but he’d caught his breath already and was bouncing on his heels. “Well,” he chuckled, “that was quite a workout, eh? Two big gents like us running more than we ought to.”

Caspian glared. He didn’t like this Ash person. He didn’t know him. And yet he spoke as if they were old friends sharing a joke. “Speak for yourself,” he growled, though he couldn’t deny the slight paunch that had developed since his forced retirement.

Ash pulled a leaf-shaped canteen from his belt and shook it before unscrewing the cap and offering it to him. “Water?”

Caspian shook his head, swallowing as he looked away from the canteen. “What, so you could poison me?”

“I mean, unless fresh water from a nearby spring will do you in, you should be alright.”

“Or drug me,” Caspian said, attempting to stand but failing, his legs still too shaky. “Who knows what sort of potions you can make here?”

“All kinds,” Ash said. “I once saw someone become a cloud of mist after taking a potion. That was cool. But I wouldn’t be so cruel as to refuse water to a man in need.”

Caspian sighed and held out a hand. “Fine.”

The water was cold against his throat. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until the first sip touched his lips, and then he nearly finished the whole thing before stopping himself and handing it back. “So, where are we?”

Ash nodded to the parchment in Caspian’s hand. “You might want to take a gander at that brochure. It should answer some of your questions.”

Caspian unfolded the paper, spotting a colorfully drawn map. He looked at the text, which shifted into letters he could read:

At Mystic Mountain Retreat and Rehabilitation, we understand that wielding extraordinary powers can sometimes be...well, not so wonderful. Our retreat is designed to help magical beings like you find inner peace, calm those chaotic energies, and reconnect with your most authentic selves.

Join us for our twelve-week program, offered all year round. No matter the season, Mystic Mountain is here to help weather any magical storm.

He looked up at Ash. “What in the Stormless void is this?” He scanned down to a section of activities. “You offer Aura Cleansing and Divination Journalling? Really?”

Ash chuckled. “That we do. I thought the same thing when I was first sent here. But it helps.”

“Do you also offer cuddle therapy for war-scarred soldiers?” Caspian asked. “Or perhaps interpretive dance battles?”

“I mean, we can if you’d like,” Ash replied with a glint in his eye.

Caspian blinked, the corners of his mouth almost forming a smile despite himself. He shook his head. “Fine, sure. So, where are we then? I’ve never heard of this ‘Mystic Mountain.’”

“It’s not quite on a map,” Ash started to explain, but as he did, a trail of wildflowers burst from the ground around them, their petals unfurling in vibrant purple, blue, and gold hues.

Caspian jumped, pushing himself up from the rock and reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there at his side. He spun around, eyes following the trail of bursting flowers blooming down the mountain as if it were some kind of serpent.

Ash held up his hands. “It’s okay. Things like that happen here. A lot of magic from many places can do that.”

“Right,” Caspian said cautiously. “And that’s supposed to make me calmer?”

“Well, I suppose not. But your sponsor brought you here to help find inner peace and control your magic,” Ash said. “It’s a place of healing.”

“Sponsor?” Caspian asked.

“Your god or other deity. Presumably, you were some kind of hero for them?”

Caspian’s mind reeled. Not even an hour ago, he had sat across from his god in a tavern, ready to destroy everything. He’s supposed to believe that the Father of Storms, who let his entire battalion die, would send him here for a bit of rest and relaxation.

His legs buckled, and he stumbled forward.

Ash reached out to steady him, his large hand warm on Caspian’s shoulder. As Ash touched him, a spark jolted through Caspian. For the briefest moment, he was somewhere else, with woods thicker than these and a canopy that blotted out the sun. He felt a voice resonating through him, something ancient trembling beneath the earth, turning its attention toward him.

Caspian inhaled and snapped back to reality atop the summit, staring right into Ash’s gaze.

“What was that?” Caspian said, his heart racing.

Ash frowned, letting Caspian go. “I…don’t know.”

Caspian blinked. He needed to get out of there. He looked to the sky, which had cleared, without a cloud in sight. He had no other option, not with this man here willing to chase him down. “Well,” he said. “I can’t ride out of here, so you might as well show me this retreat of yours.”

“Perfect,” Ash said and smiled, leading him down the hill. “Follow me.”

As they walked, Caspian peppered Ash with questions. “How many people are here?”

“This program has six residents, including you. You’ll have access to two counselors and the head of the program.”

Perfect, Caspian thought, sarcastically.

They passed by a waterfall, crossing an intricate bridge made of rich red wood. The craftsmanship was unlike anything Caspian had seen before, with delicate carvings of trees and animals along the railings. “And do you do this all year?”

“Yep,” Ash said. “Been at it for ten seasons. I was sent here, just like you, and decided I’d be better off staying here than graduating from the program.”

“So, once I graduate, I go home?”

“That’s the plan, but there is no time limit on healing. Some stay with us for a few seasons.”

Healing. The word echoed in Caspian’s mind. Do they think they could actually heal a broken war veteran? Doubtful.

They emerged from the forest into a clearing where several structures came into view. More rich red wood filled the space, fitting perfectly into the mountainous slopes. Every building gleamed with a lustrous finish and meticulous craftsmanship that bested even the castle of Tor Deren.

Gently curved roofs of slate-gray tiles cascaded down each building, turning up at the corners, supported by thick red beams.

A place nestled between two smaller buildings with finely raked pebbles and massive moss-covered boulders floating about caught his attention. “That’s the meditation garden,” Ash pointed out.

Next to that was a building with an entire wall open to the elements, facing out toward a misty lake. “And that’s the craft hut where we have art therapy sessions.”

Ash gestured to the centerpiece of it all, an impressive two-story structure with a broad roof supported by thick wooden pillars. Lanterns hung from the eaves, gently swaying in the wind. “This is our dining hall and living quarters. We have communal meals and cooking lessons there.”

“Cooking lessons?” Caspian repeated incredulously. “Assuming that’s so my fellow misfits and I can bond over stew?”

Ash laughed. “See? You’re already getting it. You’d be surprised how much you can learn about yourself and others while kneading dough.”

As they approached the main building, Caspian noted the massive, imposing stone guardians flanking the entrance. He couldn’t quite place what they were—strange beasts with scales, antlered heads, and lion-like paws—all carved with immaculate detail.

The main doors stood slightly ajar, made of the same wood and carved with scenes of mountains, trees, and flowing water. He hesitated as he placed a hand on them, spotting others just beyond the door. Other people he’d have to meet. Other people he’d have to pretend around until he could make his escape.

Ash placed a reassuring hand on his back. He’d surprised himself by not shrugging it off, and the warmth was a welcome relief as Caspian slowed his breath.

“You’ve got this,” Ash murmured, his voice low and encouraging. “One step at a time.”

Caspian took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, and grabbed onto the door, sliding it open.

Just fake it until you find your chance to escape, Caspian thought.