Chapter 171: Blood Ties

Chapter 171: Blood Ties

“How did you do that?” Nern inquired as the stone door opened completely, the slab rumbling to a stop with a crunch that reverberated through the floor.

“I’m not sure.” Leif said as he walked forward, clothing billowing as the sea breeze buffeted him. With every step the lines carved into the stone, each filled with salty water began to emit a soft amber glow. There was a gentle incline of stone steps leading up to the base of the tree, with the grooves running from equidistant, shallow bowls and converging where petrified wood met chiselled rock.

“Leif, are you sure this is safe?” Marcus asked, grabbing the scion’s sleeve. “What if... what if the same thing that... you know...”

He paused, a boot resting on the next step up. “It’s safe. I don’t know how I know, but there’s nothing here... The danger, whatever it was, it has passed.”

“And what of the other people here?” Marcus whispered. “Are you sure you want to do this in front of them? What if they see something or your identity is revealed somehow?”

“Hmmm. What were the purposes of these bowls?” Nern asked aloud, the man having conjured a small pebble and tossed it into the bowl, causing the sea water contained within to ripple outwards.

Leif let his senses and aura stretch outwards, trying to gather a feeling for the ancient history that surrounded them. Information trickled into his mind, slow and lethargic. The knowledge wasn’t conveyed in words, but instead distant impressions, feelings and emotions.

“The bowls weren’t for water.” This place wasn’t exposed to the sea back when it was... used. Look, you can see evidence of the cliffside having eroded over time.” He said, the golden light behind his mask flickering. Telepathically he sent. “Distract everyone for a little bit.”

“What? How?” Marcus hissed as he shot Leif a worried look.

He didn’t respond, instead he climbed the final few steps and reached forward, pressing a hand of ivory wood up against the lower trunk of the-

===

Aei’lesh was proud, but not stubborn. He gave as much as he was given, and no more. But the mortals loved him for it, and in turn, he cherished them. There were times in the year where people flocked to the place he was rooted, offering a smearing of blood that they wiped against the regal form of his exterior. In return he bled for them, the golden liquid that filled his body with the power of longevity and preservation dripping from his branches only to accumulate in the stone channels the mortals had carved into the stone to gather his power.

When the world changed, as it always did, the mana growing agitated and restless, they came in greater numbers, always seeking the strength to survive the months of turbulence that were to come. Aei’lesh did not know why the mortals did not simply tame the rampaging powers as their forebears had done in the centuries prior, but he did not question their methods.

Instead he remained where he was, the focused sunlight filtering down from above, communing with his brothers and sisters from all over the world. He would grow, in time, but it would be inconvenient. If he outgrew his home, he may need to move, which as a tree was not particularly easy. Some of his siblings could uproot themselves with ease, even change forms and walk around as the mortals did, but not him. The quiet, contemplative, and still life was what he was comfortable living, and he had no need to change.

He settled back to rest, having recently learnt of a fascinating inquiry about the nature of their world, and the meaning of existence. His attention turned to the question raised by one of his sisters, and years blurred by. When awareness of his surroundings returned, the robed man who had led the sermons and communicated with him when it came to matters of importance for the temple was now an aged woman.

That happened sometimes, even with his gifts mortals still withered and died in time. It was the natural way of things, and this change wouldn’t wrongfoot him, it had happened before after all. Aei-lesh extended his perception and communed directly with the woman’s mind with a gentle application of a telepathy skill. To his surprise she wasn’t the successor of the priest he had known, but instead the successor of that man’s successor. Aei’lesh was surprised, had he been distracted for so long?

The woman, too, was surprised. Apparently she hadn’t believed the stories that he was aware and capable of communication. Aei’lesh supposed he couldn’t blame her for that mistake, he had been rather quiet for a rather long time.

The priest told him of a war that had ravaged the region, how a titanic being of stone had risen in the west and reshaped the seas. The resulting waves from the clash with those who dwelled in the deep had washed away entire cities and peoples. This saddened the tree, the loss of life was always tragic, no matter who it was who had perished.

“Were the islands attacked?” He had asked.

“No, ancient one.” The priest had responded. “No monster would dare.”

It was true, the compact that governed the world and its myriad powers would not be violated so easily, or so recklessly.

===

A scream of pain and fear rippled through the golden threads that connected Aei’lesh with his siblings. It was so loud, and so surprising that it jolted him out of his meditation. He reached out with his mind, attempting to commune with his family to see what had happened.

His projection materialised into the realm of endless grasses and rolling hills, a tree easily twice the size of his physical form stretching up to greet the crystal blue sky. Others appeared one by one, each pulled from their lives, tasks or musings. Only the greatest of their kind could enter this realm at will, with the younger members of their species only being invited within when certain conditions were met.

“What has happened?” Aei’lesh demanded, his thoughts mixing with the growing cacophony of noise within the space as more and more of his kind joined the meeting. His question went unanswered, for nobody knew.

Though there was no ignoring a truth that they could all see. One of their kind was absent, their thread severed. Silence reigned in the infinite world of grass as the horror of their reality settled down onto them. Somehow, somewhere, one of their own had been killed.

A decision was made, those with mortal followers would send their people out into the world to seek for the truth. Aei’lesh himself sent many, the mortals living on the island nation he protected more than willing to comply with his requests. And so he waited for the news to arrive, for one of the mortals to return with the truth of what had transpired, for one of his siblings to discover the fate of the one who had died.

===

Aei’lesh’s agents never returned, and two years later another of the amber were killed, their presence vanishing from the connection they all shared. But they knew where this sibling had been rooted. North, past the three seas and the Pherin mountains, in the kingdoms of honour and swords where much of them dwelled. Another death, again in the north, then another, and another. Within the span of a year half their number was missing, their minds and souls having been torn from the plane of endless grass, their amber blood doubtlessly no longer flowing within their bodies.

The threat was coming from the north, and so those who were left sent those who could walk, many of the younger members of their species. The children found death, famine and plague, tides of feral beasts, rampaging monsters and fallen cities. The mortal lands to the north were being devoured, their people streaming down past the mountains in a river of refugees and desperation. But there was something wrong with the people, something corrupted, something blighted.

Decades passed, and the youngest of their kind fought alongside the mortals to beat back the encroaching wilderness. But one by one they vanished, disappearing into the now overgrown territories that the mortals once held, and the amber once protected. Never in Aei’lesh’s life had he ever witnessed such a change in the status quo. The mortals had been devastated, millions had died, their ancestral homes lost to them. But the amber? His kind were on the verge of extinction.

Those who still lived, those who had called the south their home reconvened the council one final time. Some of his siblings desperately sought out the other monster factions, seeking answers and aid. They were ignored. Others tried to prepare the next generation of the amber, creating a grand working of golden threads to seek out any who were born, and bring them together. No longer could the amber afford to be conservative with who they allowed access to the space of their meetings, all would be welcomed, no matter how young.

For his part, Aei’lesh prayed. If the answers to their plight could not be found among the living, then perhaps the ascended wills that lingered and ruled, their influence over the world’s mana transcendent, could aid him. Before his prayers could be answered, lives in the temple above him began to be snuffed out, one by one.

An attack.

They were coming for him.

Aei’lesh was no helpless sapling, and those who dared come for his life and those he protected would suffer the full extent of his wrath. His roots ripped through the temple, finding beings of steel and flames. He crushed them, even as they hacked and burnt at his limbs, Aei’lesh reduced them to scrap.

His roots closed off entrances and extended to heal his defenders. They were so small, so young and fragile, he would never forgive any who would dare kill his people. He stretched out his cumbersome perception, unspooling it upwards to discover the identity of his foes. His mortal enemies.

And he found them.

And the truth broke something.

Aei’lesh screamed in agony, in despair and in loss. The sheer force behind the telepathic wail staggered those within the temple, blood leaking from their ears, eyes and mouths. He flinched, every part of him recoiling at having harmed his own people, his roots ripping out of walls and collapsing ceilings.

No! No! I’m sorry! He thought, horrified to sense more and more life being snuffed out, the vitality of those he loved and cared for winking out as stone crushed them, as his flailing roots smashed into or stabbed them. Aei’lesh’s perception rose once more. I’m so sorry. I don’t understand. I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please. Why? Why? What did we do? What did we do to make you hate us so?

The scion flexed his fingers, then nodded wearily. “Do you have a pen?”

===

Johan ran through the darkened halls of the temple, cursing the fools who had somehow allowed a monster to roam free in the Academy. This place was supposed to be a haven of humanity, a fortress of integrity and power, but there was no mistaking it, they had been infiltrated.

He hadn’t believed it at first, he was sure the name of the man who had spearheaded the excavation efforts was an unfortunate coincidence. Leif was a common name in the northern kingdoms, or so he had read. Maybe the masked stranger had no relation to the thing of wood and blood the Pherin expedition had discovered, it was unlikely, but he had hoped.

He hadn’t made a scene, instead he had made sure to verify before he reported anything. The counsellor he had been made to see had told him that he had an unfortunate habit of assuming the worst, and letting his assumptions cloud his judgement. But there was little risk of him being wrong about this. He would recognise those golden arms anywhere. And that wasn’t to mention the damned blond haired idiot Marcus standing right next to him. This was why the Academy needed to be more careful about letting foreigners onto the islands. Most of the outsider students ended up being dumped into Lutum, and for that he was grateful, but to think one of them had been stupid enough to betray everything this institution stood for?

Unbelievable. Johan cursed as he rounded a corner, almost colliding with a group of Dimid students who were taking rubbings of a mural that had been carved into the wall. “Out of my way!” He snapped, barging through them. He didn’t have time to apologise or explain himself, everyone on this island was in danger, and only he knew about it. He sprinted up a flight of stairs, his boots dislodging a loose stone, almost making him lose his footing.

He ran into a curved, half caved-in room and cursed again. He hadn’t gone the right way. This whole damn place was a maze, and as an [Operator], he had only been part of the excavation for less than a full day. A professor was lecturing a trio of second years about religious history, pointing to the carving of a cracked statue with his cane.

“Where’s the way out?” Johan gasped, wheezing for breath. “I need to get out! There’s something down- I need to talk to someone in charge!”

“Young man, you need to slow down. These ruins are unstable, if you charge around recklessly-”

He wasn’t listening, half way through the professor's chastisement he had whirled around and fled, taking a different turn to escape. Ten minutes later he was outside, panting for breath as a bunch of people stared at him in shock.

“Where... Where is... Goodwil? I... I need...”

“She’s leading a group through the newly uncovered passages found in the third entrance.” Someone said, which wasn’t helpful at all. He didn’t know what the ‘third entrance’ was, nor did he know where to find it.

“Did something happen, kid? Are you okay?” A fourth year girl asked, kneeling down and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Instinctually, Johan lashed out at her, pushing her away and scrambling to his feet. She looked shocked, but not hurt. He cursed under his breath again. None of these people would listen to him. They all thought he was having a panic attack, that he needed to be looked after.

They all thought he was Unreliable. Weak.

Johan stumbled to his feet and made for the hovering metal platform that rested by the side of the encampment. He and his fellow [Operator]s had arrived using it several hours ago, and without them he might struggle to pilot it properly, but it didn’t matter.

He needed to find someone who would listen to him. Someone with the power to do something about it. He could go to a Blade? But they were probably at the arena on Pellus. Could he go to the Academy guard? No, he was on that stupid list, they would probably detain him instead of hearing him out. Then who? That was a foolish question, he already knew who to go to. Only a member of Fracture might take him seriously, and the Spire Head of Dimid would understand the situation better than anyone else.

The metal platform hummed as he fed power into the control panel at its front. Someone yelled at him to stop, but he didn’t listen. Within seconds the rudimentary vehicle was lurching upwards, the energy he was pushing into it granting the platform the lift it would need to clear the rock walls. Several dozen metres in the air the control panel connected with the island's private navigation obelisk, then, with a mental shove, it was zipping back towards the Dimid campus.

===

Three sharp knocks sounded against Vevosis’s office door. He rolled his neck and cracked his fingers, glancing up from the pile of paperwork before him. There was so much to do before the inevitable happened, and he was trying to get ahead while he had the chance. He opened his mouth, not to speak, but to taste the air. A familiar scent. The blood mage smiled.

“Come on in Norman.”

“Yes, sir.” Came a voice from the other side of the door, then a moment later a tall man stepped into the room. The lantern flame flickered as he did so, the fire contained within the shell of glass and metal briefly turning black.

“Is this Academy business, or something else?” Vevosis asked, his eyes flicking to the man’s metallic earring, the piece of jewellery having been painted a delightful shade of red.

“A bit of both, sir.” Norman said, an expression of concern crossing over his gaunt features. He wore the dark uniform of the Academy’s guard as if he had been born to wear it. “A... student is here to see you. He has a fairly wild claim, but I thought I would speak with you first before I brought him up.”

“Hmm? Who is it?”

“A third year. Johan, a student from our own island. He was a recent addition to the temple excavation.”

Vevosis tapped his fingers on his desk, mumbling the student's name to himself. “Johan... I believe I recall the boy. Wasn’t he someone you scouted? During the failed Pherin expedition if I recall correctly.”

“That’s the one. He’s a middlingly levelled [Operator].”

“Anyone with that class is at least somewhat useful, no matter what personal defects they may have. What was his report about? Something about the excavation?”

Norman wet his lips. “Yes... According to the boy, the anomaly from the expedition is currently within the temple itself, interacting with the corpse of the tree.”

Vevosis frowned. “Anomaly? You mean the talking blight monster you reported?”

“The same one, I’m afraid.”

The blood mage whistled. “Well, isn’t that a surprise. How did that thing get onto the archipelago I wonder? No matter, I suppose I’ll find out soon enough...”

“Sir!” Came a rasping, out of breath voice from the door. “Sir, you have to listen to me! I know what I saw! Please! I’m not crazy.”

“Ah, Johan, we were just speaking about you.” Vevosis said, lacing his fingers together. Norman tensed, as if ready to strike, but with a subtle gesture the Spire Head ordered him to stand down. “I must admit my confusion. I thought the ground floor was protected in such a way that nobody unauthorised could enter?”

“I... I used my... platform... to hover up to the third floor... I used an open window.”

“How resourceful of you.”

“Thank you... sir.”

“Well then, take a seat. I suppose I’ll hear the story from your lips. You may leave us, Norman.”

The severe looking man bowed, then departed, closing the door after him as he went.