"There are no easy methods to solve difficult problems."

René Descartes.

He ran desperately, with his breath panting and his lungs burning. Step by step, hammering the ground in the same frantic rhythm of the heart, he advanced crazily into the forest, lost, but without the slightest intention of stopping. He was not able to hear anything except the intense pulsation in his ears that even managed to muffle the sound of the strange forest.

He fled from something; he no longer knew exactly what it was, because, in that unbridled race, he would hardly have the conditions to know if he was followed by something or someone. He fled from one fight to enter another, something desperate and frightening that he was not sure he would survive and only time, in the future, could tell. At that moment, all he heard was the hypnotic pounding of the blood pulsing in his body, ignoring the exotic beauty of that quiet and gentle forest, immersed in a bluish-greenish twilight caused by the treetops somewhat bizarre. He trotted off with his ninety kilos of bones and well-worked muscles, but already a little overloaded, operating in perfect harmony to take him forward, dodging skillfully the biggest obstacles without, however, managing to escape them all. He passed a shallow stream and a cold water that brought him some relief to his feet, leaving only the marks of his shoes on the banks. He did not hear the harmonious singing of the birds that abounded in that virgin forest and paid no attention to the flora, which was very different from his standard, with trees of reddish trunks and blue vegetation, sometimes nuances of rare greenish tones because they were devoid of chlorophyll. Exotic birds, some with four wings and flying in all directions, hurried to climb as fast as they could to escape the strange invader whose noise frightened them.

Igor stopped abruptly, breathing desperately with his lungs on fire and his heart beating out of sync. His clothes were unrecognizable, torn in many places because of the involuntary lashes of the bushes that left him several marks on his skin and some cuts where the blood flowed, staining the clothes already quite battered. His face transfigured something between shock and terror, but he looked around with firmness and haughtiness without letting his gray eyes escape anything, because, despite all the despair, that posture where on his blood. He noticed that everything was quiet and he was not chased, at least it seemed not to be, but his state of shock clouded his logical reasoning.

In a hurry, he made a subtle gesture with one of his hands, as if opening a curtain. The soft bluish twilight of the forest was shaken by an intense and yellow sunlight that came from a point right in front of him. After the inexplicable lighting, the image unfolded as Igor opened that veil more, revealing a different landscape but difficult to visualize because of the strong brightness. It seemed in fact that he had reached the end of a world and opened the door to another. His eyes blinked to adapt to the new conditions and, as if this were normal, he crossed the strange passage, penetrating another place. Without even looking, he turned his hand back and moved it from top to bottom, seeming to close a zipper backwards. The landscape of the blue forest disappeared and he was now in a deserted and very bright place, immediately resuming his uncontrolled journey.

Despite the strong sun at that moment, the temperature was rather low, almost freezing. To his right, the sea broke a few dozen meters away, but he ran in the opposite direction, plunging again into a forest that rose with a slight slope that gradually increased. Igor no longer felt anything, especially his legs.

He did not know how long he ran, it seemed that it was hours; but, little by little, his unbridled race became a trot and, half an hour later, a dragging of feet increasingly slower until he saw a cabin and tried to reach it. There were still a good thirty meters left when the body, exhausted of all its strength, fell to the ground without any more intense noise.

A dog barked nearby, but he could hardly hear anything because his ears throbbed excessively. He felt the vibration of footsteps on the ground and tried to lift his face. His eyes, unfocused, saw an old man approaching. The man walked with a staff in his hands and, beside him, a huge and menacing-looking dog accompanied him. Without strength, Igor let his head fall, losing consciousness as the man said:

"Holy God, son, you are all battered!"

― ☼ ―

The heat was pleasant and the sound of crackling firewood in a fireplace was heard.

Igor raised his head with some effort. His vision was still blurred and he had difficulty maintaining that position. He was inside the cabin, which seemed to be quite spacious. In one of the corners, almost out of visual range, he saw the staff of the man who had saved him, where, at the top, a small sphere radiated a medium and pleasant brightness. With his back turned, the man who had saved him fiddled with something, but began to speak:

"Boy, you're done. Feeling better?" he asked, turning around. "Where did you come from? It looks like you faced a war alone!"

He did not expect an answer because he knew that the young man was still in a bad state, but he spoke softly, feeling that it could calm the newcomer. With a clay mug in his hands, he brought him some water, helping Igor to drink.

"Where did you come from, son?" he repeated the question. "I see that you are from here on Earth, but I believe that you were in another plane. Did you come from the Citadel?"

He should never have said such a word because, upon hearing the mention of that place, Igor widened his eyes in panic, spitting out the water and trying to get up at all costs, almost knocking down his savior.

"Dead," he shouted, desperate and with a shrill voice, "all dead—"

The old man raised a hand and said something in a foreign language, making the poor wretch fall unconscious on the cot.

"Well, my son, I see that something very serious has been happening out there. I just hope you haven't gone crazy. I think what I've been waiting for so long has just happened. Come on, Saci, let's get some air on the porch," he said to the dog, getting up and being immediately accompanied by the animal. He sat in his favorite chair and began to prepare the pipe, thinking about the distant past.

― ☼ ―

Igor woke up once again. He remained quiet for a long time, enjoying the silence and feeling an inner peace that comforted him. His thoughts did not go to any particular place. Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw, in the dimness of the place, a wooden ceiling, starting to wonder where he could be. The weak lighting did not help him with details and he felt strange because he had no recent memory.

The silence and calmness were interrupted by the discreet sound of a door that opened gently with a slight creak, almost imperceptible. Along with it, a stronger light made him squint his eyes when the sun's rays tore part of the darkness. He turned his face in that direction and, against the light, he saw the shadow of a very tall man. In his left hand, he carried a staff with its almost two meters of height and, on his head, he wore a hat.

Next, the door opened more without anyone touching it, but the mystery was solved when a very large dog entered next to its owner. Despite being in an unfavorable position to see the door, he could look well at the animal and did not recognize the breed, which competed in size, without any difficulty with a Brazilian Fila, even a Grand Danoi, if it was not much bigger. The newcomer entered the room once and for all and closed the door, while the dog lay down on a cushion in a corner. The man dropped something on the table that was next to the opposite wall and turned to the window, saying:

"Good morning, son," he opened the curtains, allowing the light to scare away the darkness. "I see that you finally came to yourself after four long days. How do you feel?"

Igor sat up slowly, noticing that he was naked, only covered by the sheet. He turned his gaze to the man, without saying anything. He saw that he looked old, maybe seventy or more years old, with a long white beard very well groomed and his eyes hidden by a hat with long brims. The man dropped the staff in a corner, hung the hat on a hook next to it and picked up a cardboard bag from the top of the table, approaching Igor.

"Here," he said, extending the bag. "I went to the village to get them and they should fit. Your clothes were unrecognizable, destroyed by running in the forest. Lucky you didn't step on a venomous snake."

He pointed to a door in the opposite corner and continued:

"You can change there. In the meantime, I'll make some coffee for us. If you want to take a shower, feel free, since the water is hot and there are towels in the cabinet, under the sink."

Igor took the bag and obeyed while the old man smiled and turned to a wood stove. He put some logs inside the compartment, looked to the side to see if the young man was not at the door peeking and then made a subtle gesture with his left hand, saying in the strange language he used before:

"I want you, fire, light up."

A small ball of some kind of energy came out of his hand and headed for the compartment, igniting the wood. He put the kettle on the plate, prepared everything for when the water boiled and sat down in a rocking chair, near the stove.

Shortly before boiling, Igor appeared in the room, now clean and dressed, although a thin beard covered his face. However, being blond, it was hardly noticeable. The old man looked at him with approval, a young man maybe with one meter and eighty-five, broad shoulders and athletic build. His hair was short, very blond and his eyes of a strong gray, penetrating. He pointed to the nearby chair.

"I see that the clothes fit well," said the old man, smiling gently. "Sit there that the coffee is not ready yet."

As soon as he took a step, Igor saw the dog raise its snout in his direction. Soon after, he got up and started to approach. Scared and acting on instinct, the young man raised his arm slowly, clenching his fist. At that moment, his hand turned red, as if it were enveloped by a form of plasma energy, but Igor noticed nothing. The dog, however, just wanted to sniff him and left him alone. Igor's hand returned to normal and the only proof that it had been about to launch something deadly and destructive were the old man's wide eyes, who controlled himself immediately.

"Come on, my young man, sit down that the dog won't hurt you," said the host. "He is very calm and well trained."

Calm and without showing fear, the boy sat down in the indicated chair. They both remained silent for a good thirty seconds, studying each other, until the old man broke the silence:

"Well, what a lack of manners on my part," he gave a short and relaxed laugh. "My name is Ezequiel and I am the humble dweller of this cabin in the middle of nowhere. And you, what is your name, son?"

"I am Igor Montenegro," he answered laconically, with a firm voice and a strong and pleasant timbre. "Thank you for rescuing me, Ezequiel. Where am I?"

"You are on planet Earth, South America, Brazil, on the border of Santa Catarina with Rio Grande do Sul and, when you arrived here, you looked like an ET from another world, son," he answered in a studied way to not provoke new reactions of panic in the boy, although he thought that this would not happen again. "You arrived turned into a human rag and your heart did not collapse because you have a physical preparation that makes many athletes envious, Igor. Your state of unconsciousness lasted four long days, although you came to yourself a few times. Do you remember what happened to you?"

"I don't remember much," he replied. "I think I must have suffered some shock, but I know I needed to go home very urgently, only I'm too far away."

"Where is your home, son?" Ezequiel tried to evaluate what he said, to know if he lied.

"In Porto Alegre—"

"In that case, Igor," the old man interrupted, "you are too far from your home, very far indeed, especially for someone who came on foot."

"Where exactly am I, sir?"

"In the Itaimbezinho canyon, son, many kilometers from any civilized place. This is a natural reserve and not even cars drive here because there are no roads to these sides. It is a true miracle that you came to my cabin, unless you had been guided on how to get here, but only a very small and select group of people know that."

"I have a vague memory of a forest with bluish trees and then the sea. And I remember running a lot, always without stopping because I had to get home, but I don't know why."

"You were on the eleventh plane!" the old man said, more to himself than anything else. "And jumped straight to the third! This can't be, there is not so much power unless—"

"Unless what?" Igor asked. "And what is this story of plane and power; what is that?"

"My young fellow," began the old man. Seeing that the water was boiling, he got up to pour it into the strainer, creating a delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee. Without losing focus, he continued, still with his back to Igor. "I would prefer that you remembered so as not to shock you, but I can tell you some things. You are not a normal human being, but what we call a Magician, in your case it is even more than that, you are a Superior Magician, with powers far beyond what one can imagine."

He turned his face to Igor, in order to see his reaction. If anything happened, the young man showed nothing, presenting a phenomenal self-control, but questioned, impassive:

"And what makes you suppose that, Ezequiel?" After a few seconds he gave a small laugh and continued. "Did you escape from a madhouse, didn't you?"

"You will never find a forest with blue trees around here, Igor, in fact nowhere on planet Earth. And, from the coast to this humble cabin, there are more than two hundred kilometers!" he said very seriously, making Igor waver. "You traveled two hundred and something kilometers, running like a madman and a normal person would have died long before halfway."

"I could be delirious, don't you think?" Igor retorted. "Frankly, Ezequiel—"

"You could, son," the old man interrupted, "but I think I know what I'm saying. You have powers equal, in fact much superior, to what is told in all these fantasy stories. I feel your strength and I have never witnessed such a powerful one. That's why I'm so concerned about why you were in that state."

"How do you 'feel my strength'?" Igor didn't like the direction of the conversation at all. "How can you know these things?"

Next to the table, above three meters from the chair, Ezequiel finished serving the coffee and turned to him. In his hands he had a steaming cup that exhaled an intoxicating smell. Smiling, he released one hand, placing it underneath and opening the other. After that, he moved both hands up to shoulder height; but, as if by magic, the cup remained still in the air, in the exact place where he left it, making Igor raise his eyebrow by a centimeter. With a mocking air, he moved his fingers slowly, as if to repel the coffee that began to move.

"For almost two long millennia," he reported, while the cup flew towards Igor who did not take his eyes off it, eyes that were quite wide, "I trained young apprentices and I know very well when I see a first level magician, especially a superior one."

The cup reached Igor who grabbed it silently and swallowing hard. He watched carefully what the old man said. He looked at the coffee and took a sip that burned his lips, concluding that it was not an illusion but a wonderful and very hot coffee. He thought for almost a minute and sighed:

"Ezequiel, I need to get home and I don't even know why I was driven to it," the young man began. "You may be right because, after seeing this, I feel flashes of memories and strange sensations, but I don't think I could do what you did."

"For the love of the Goddess, even a beginner of the tenth level does that. The first level ones can even go to other worlds without help and you should have opened a rift to get out of your house. It is likely that you tried that, but your despair made you miss. However, only you can solve this mystery."

"Did you say two millennia?" Igor laughed. "Don't you think you're exaggerating a bit?"

"How old are you, young man?" Ezequiel asked.

"Nineteen, little more than that." It was the laconic answer.

"But if you are what I think you are, son, and I believe you are, you will live even longer than me."

"It doesn't seem like a good idea to live that long," he said. He sighed and continued. "Let's see, if I'm all that, even though I don't remember, it means I have the power with me, right?"

"Without a doubt."

"And if I try to relearn how to use it, do you think my memories could return?"

"It's possible; are you willing to try?" Ezequiel asked. "And are you willing to take the risks that made you go into shock to the point of losing your most recent memories?"

"I am," he replied, convinced. "What good is it to want to go home if I don't even know where it is or how to get there?"

"Excellent, my boy." Ezequiel rubbed his hands and took his coffee, sipping. "I really like people who attack their problems head on."

"What is the difference between a superior and a normal one?" the young man asked, curious about the terms used.

"Great first question," Ezequiel said, smiling. "The superior does not need objects like staffs, although they facilitate. Your power is stronger and more concentrated. When the magician can exercise his abilities without it, then he is a superior. I, for example, only use the staff for things that require more power or concentration, but I can do them without it. But you... you will see.

― ☼ ―

Plasma is the state of matter frequently found in stars, among others. It is essentially ionized and strongly energetic, the fourth state that, in general, is not studied in schools (solid, liquid, gas, plasma among others even more complex, such as super-fluids). A. N.