There, in his hands, he held an all too familiar sight. One could say he had spent almost half of his life with it.
Somehow, he remembered it smaller, yet that was but a trick of his perception, he knew. But he knew, too, that the bright blue cover of the book in his memories was true, and lacking from the one he was now about to open in order to access the great library that was his Tower of Babylon.
Should I do it? He pondered, once again, as the image of the shadow crossed his mind, telling him that indeed accessing the profound artefact was the only way he had of saving them. But given the dim light emanating from it, he could surmise there weren’t many uses left. Sgithe’s instructions were clear: the book was supposed to recharge itself as he achieved higher levels of Essence refinement, yet after reaching the Tempered realm, he had yet to see any changes.
Who could say when he’d be able to use it again?
What if using it now meant not having his biggest trump card when it truly mattered?
Does it matter now?
His hands moved before he could find the answer, revealing the blank yet not empty pages of the blue book, as a tingling sensations crept up his arms, a sensation he recognized as the artefact requesting of him a direction, a question, an idea. He didn’t need to formulate a coherent sentence in his head, nor give an exact answer; the book not only was able to access and distribute the knowledge stored inside that tree-like structure, but also assess what was better for him with his current strength.
Many doubts surged then, threatening to invade his mind, but Avaln pushed them away to seek focus, invoking the images of the shadow, of its memories that were now his. It’s birth. The first time they understood what they were. Their encounter with that man who used their desire to his benefit. Their fight with Alary and her companions. Their fight with Avaln himself, and their current situation… all of it was absorbed by the artefact, together with that strong wish he now harboured, a stark refusal to the shadow’s seemingly sealed fate.
In other circumstances, he would have questioned, again, why.
In fact, he was sure he would wonder so in the future.
But in that moment, all he felt was relief as the book flashed; and he felt interest, when something else entered his view. He hadn’t noticed before, maybe because he would actively ignore what was around him due to the splitting headache such action often caused, but, as his gaze followed a sudden stream of ink running towards him, he realized the black liquid wasn’t just stored on shelves, but rather the very ink was circulating throughout the whole tree-like structure as if it were blood. What he was staring at was actually a vein, he understood, a vein that soon spread apart, letting a thin line of the liquid out. It was but a drop, abysmally small in comparison with the amount of knowledge flowing around him.
Flowing.
There was a hidden meaning in that thought. It pulled at his mind with the worst possible timing, for he wanted to explore that sudden inspiration, yet other priorities weighed heavier on him. He couldn’t lose his focus, and so he did not, the idea soon fading into the oblivion of that which is forgotten, as the black drop floated up to him, touching his extended index finger and merging with it, disappearing into his skin.
Avaln opened his mind, and soon, much like memories, he found what he sought.
“Leave her there!” The elderly woman shouted, briefly pointing to a bed. “Little Ri, I need you to boil some water, and add in some Orgenglass. Three leaves should do.”
“On it!”
Alary, helped by Gallathorn, gently laid Alice down before stepping away. “What can I help with?” She asked then, turning towards Mira, who stepped outside, to the garden, where she quickly began gathering herbs right beside her granddaughter.
The elderly woman didn’t reply immediately, focused on her task, which led Alary to repeat her question, this time louder. Out of wanting to be heard, or frustration, she didn’t know.
“I’m old, not deaf!” Mira turned around, gesturing to her to come closer. “Do you know how to make a paste?” Alary nodded, once. “Here, put these on the grinder over there, on the table. Use this oil. Add as needed, but no more than half the bottle.”
Alary nodded again, grabbing the small container that couldn’t be larger than her thumb, and went on with her task, happy to have something to do rather than just waiting, unlike the rest of her team. Harold, out of exhaustion; Garry, because finesse had never been his forte, and Gallathorn, because he was busy glaring at Mira, as if he were suspicious of her.
Alary knew them enough to just need a quick glance to guess that.
She couldn’t, however, keep her mind clear of doubts as the day turned into night. She handed over the paste she made, receiving an approving nod from the elderly woman, before being told to sit and wait, for there was nothing else for her to do but rest. Alary didn’t like it, but even if she had spent some time at the Tower, learning about the Domain of Magic, her knowledge of alchemy was superficial at best; enough to grind a decent paste, but not enough to draw the glyphs necessary for any of the more complex processes.
Alchemy was but another spellcasting discipline, after all.
Her doubts began when, against her expectations, the elderly woman drew no glyphs nor cast any spells, but rather mixed ingredients through different basic means, in different bottles, adding already prepared potions she seemed to have stored, distilling, boiling… and waiting before proceeding with the next steps.
It felt ordinary.
It felt ineffective.
It felt hopeless.
She shook her head before that last notion, closing the leak in her heart out of pure force of will, a force that seemed to be slipping through her fingers with every passing breath as her own exhaustion slowly began to catch up to her. But she refused to rest, rejected the pleas of her body to seek the blissful release of sleep. She hated it, hated the idea of waking up to Alice’s fate, a fate that she didn’t witness…
Stolen novel; please report.
A fate her mind was sealing with every surging doubt.
What could this woman do?
“Could you stop with the concert?! I’m trying to save your friend here.”
Alary surprised herself tapping her foot, at so fast a rhythm it sounded like the heartbeat of a frightened bird. “S-sorry.” Her gaze dropped to the floor, of a dark brown wood with stains here and there. Not any kind, she now realized, but the particular trace of dried blood… spilled in force.
What happened here?
“Don’t worry.” She heard a voice to her right. “Grandma Mira knows a lot about herbs. I’m sure she can help her.”
Alary turned towards the source, finding the girl of the pale blue hair with a hand extended, offering her a bowl of steaming soup. When she had prepared it, or where, she didn’t know, but with a quick glance back she realized Harold, Garry and Gallathorn were already eating.
“Thanks.” She took the bowl, watching how the girl took a seat right beside her with a stool of her own, then her gaze went to thick broth in her hands. The taste ended up being nothing special, but she certainly hadn’t realized how hungry she was until then, her mouth watering before her body’s demand.
Soon, the bowl laid empty in her hands as she stared at it, just now noticing it was made of wood, and that the soup probably had carrots in it. “More?” Asked the pale-blue haired girl, to which she attempted an answer, a sudden hesitation holding her tongue.
Her gaze set on Alice’s features, pain and exhaustion clear in the unconscious fire mage, and she couldn’t help thinking that despite having aged slightly, she still looked beautiful, something that if she were to wake up, she’d be the first to notice and flamboyantly flag it around.
“That’s one mystery resolved.” Alary could almost hear her voice. “Even older, I’m still hot.”
Alary chuckled, nodded, then handed the bowl to the girl. “Yes, please.”
It didn’t take her long to return with another serving. “There is more if you want.” She mentioned, then added, “I’m Rei.”
“Alary.” Maybe out of her own exhaustion, or maybe because the girl just gave her name, she didn’t feel like adding Greenleaf to it, and neither did she give it that much thought. Her mind was possessed by a matter far more important. “Thanks. For everything.” Her gaze wandered from the soup, to her squad, to the elderly woman, and finally settled on Alice’s features.
The gesture didn’t go unnoticed to the girl, who nodded, then shrugged it away. “It was nothing.”
They both took a couple of spoonfuls, their thoughts unknown, and it had to pass a few breaths before Alary spoke again. “It’s this your house?”
The girl called Rei shook her head, a lock of pale blue hair gently swaying on her cheek. “It was my aunt’s.”
Alary’s gaze settled briefly on the dry stain of blood, then went back to Alice, almost feeling as if she had done something wrong. “Are they… alright?” She inquired, however, hesitating to ask such a thing to someone as young as her.
“She left for Greenleaf this morning.” Was her sole answer. Alary waited to see if she would add anything, but when met with her silence, she decided to drop the topic.
She didn’t need to be a genius to know something had happened there, something else. Such were her thoughts as her mouth tasted a piece of carrot, setting her suspicions aside for now.
One step at a time. Were her unsaid words, directed to no one but herself.
When Avaln opened his eyes, he needed a moment to fully realize they were indeed open. Such was the darkness he found himself in.
Where am I? He wondered, only to shake his head later, reminding himself of his priority.
For he knew what to do now.
Releasing his seventh sense, he made a quick swipe of his surroundings in search of any possible immediate threats, but all he found was the brown Essence of naked rock… with just one possible exit.
A cave? He surmised, and couldn’t help but be puzzled by it. The last thing he remembered was being on top of the corpse of that giant demon boar, as it rampaged through the forest, trying to shake him off, the sound of its hooves still thundering in his ears. The pain, around the shoulder of his arm holding the spear, and flaring from his injured side as well, also served as a reminder of the fight, and of something else.
His seventh sense swirled in a hurry, examining his surroundings, once, twice… then he released a sigh of relief, knowing for sure the giant demon boar was nowhere near him. Could it be dead? Could it had suffered the Unlinking already, returning to the world after turning into grey ashes?
These questions brought him another idea, which he quickly set on finding out, his seventh sense now pouring into his spear in order to check something…
After all, plunging it into the corpse of that demon boar wasn’t just to try to kill the shadow inside, but rather, to absorb the beast’s demonic Essence into the weapon. It was a bet, an experiment, but the results could greatly compensate for the risks he took. Such was his train of thought as he focused on its ivory shaft, on its runes and on the artificial Essence circulation he created inside…
It didn’t take him long to reach a conclusion.
“Why didn’t I think of that?” He whispered, disappointed and worried.
The idea of filling the spear with denser demonic Essence was good on paper, but there was one flaw he hadn’t thought of: the spear was made from the bones of a normal demon boar, whose Essence wasn’t above the Nascent realm. It was like trying to contain the water of an entire well inside a small bottle, such was the analogy that came to his mind as he watched how the denser demonic Essence was spilling out of the spear, returning to the world. The weapon itself wasn’t unscathed either. Through careful examination, Avaln found some cracks here and there, not big enough to be worrying, not in a short time, but he’d need to do maintenance to it at some point. Jeff’s bone spear was his only weapon, after all.
He sighed then, quickly guessing the demon boar’s body had most probably dissolved into grey ashes once the spear drained all of its Essence, which was why he was now alone.
However, solitude was precisely what he required.
He was about to refine the world’s Essence again, something he knew could not only attract attention to himself if he were to do it near people, but also put them in danger because of the effect so much raw elementless Essence could have on those unprepared. The most worrying part was that he himself would be exposed as an elementless adventurer, which could potentially make him a target for those seeking easy prey to refine their Essence.
In a way, he was everyone’s prey, the lowest in the food chain.
He nodded to himself, then stood up, walking towards the entrance of the cave as his seventh sense assured him once again there was no one near. The cave itself didn’t seem to be small either, like the one he first sought refuge in, back in the demon mountain range, but rather continued forward as far as he could see and sense, beyond the entrance, fifty steps away. He left his spear against one of the walls there, then traced back his steps until he reached the other side of the cave, which was a dead end… and pure rock. Fifty steps of it.
There, he sat cross-legged, making sure he was far enough from his spear for it to not be affected by the world’s Essence, then traced a regenerate rune right above his head before closing his eyes to focus. The easiest way to find peace of mind was to concentrate in one’s own breathing, he had learnt, and in fact the way to refine the world’s Essence required a specific breathing cadence, a kind of serene rhythm that was far from simple. Avaln couldn’t but wonder if all Essence refinement methods were like that.
A few breaths later, he stopped wondering all together.
And soon, an elementless tide rose from the inert rock.