Rian stared down at his map, trying to see if maybe he managed to miscalculate something.

Simply put, he could not believe that he had managed to crack open the answer to a mystery that had been around since probably the beginning of Humanity.

He went through every single factor again. Was this location within a 77 mile radius of a seven-way leyline intersection? Yes.

Did stars tend to line up directly over this area? Most likely. Did the weather patterns match up? Yes, see leylines.

Did any of those constraints actually mean anything? Somewhere between probably and maybe. He had been trying to figure this out for years, being bedridden and bored. He can’t quite remember where he got all his numbers from, some of them were from ages ago. But he did know that with the numbers he had, incorrect, futile, or not, he was not incorrect.

Meaning he had just found a 77 mile circle where the Heartling Tree could be.

Said Heartling Tree might not even be a tree. Some have called it the Fountain of Youth. Some called it the place where you go for Enlightenment. Some have said that finding it gives you Enlightenment. And any number of other things. For every Bloodline on the planet, there was probably 7 interpretations for what he considered the Heartling Tree.

All in all, it seemed like a rather futile thing. But when you were stuck in bed for your entire childhood, finding a mythological thing/place/whatever else it could be was a good way to keep you entertained.

And he may have found the general area of where it could be.

His breathing got faster the more he thought about it, and he didn’t realize he was nearing hyperventilation territory until his breath caught on a suddenly dry patch of his throat and he doubled over, hacking.

Like clockwork, his apprentice and niece, Mary wandered in, a large bowl of water balanced carefully in her hands.

“Perhaps we should up the rotations to every ninety minutes rather than every two hours,” she said dryly. He waved a hand at her.

“It’s fine,” he wheezed, “I just got excited.”

Though in all honesty, she was probably right. The air was getting cooler, crisper, and drier as the seasons changed to Autumn.

Though it bode the start of constant sickness for him, it was still his favorite season. Spring meant pollen, which meant allergies, which mean absolutely no breathing whatsoever. Winter meant thin air with harsh cold. Summer meant sticky sweat on sensitive skin. Autumn was the lesser of all the evils, in this case.

Mary set the bowl down on the corner of his massive desk, and through his coughs, he placed his hand on the surface of the water

Energy buzzed in his palms, and the water started to bubble and steam. He lifted his hand away before it could start burning him, and steam wafted up into the air. He waved his hand lazily to circle the water vapor into the air. Soon enough, the tension in his lungs eased. He grabbed a his tea cup and took a sip.

“Thank you, Mary,” he said, much more composed now.

“No problem.”

“What’s on the agenda for the rest of today?”

“You did have a meeting with Maylee,” he winced, “but Darrogh decided he wanted to talk to you today.”

“Oh.” Should he smile or wince? This could go either way.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

“Yes. Oh.” Mary sighed, and he grimaced for her.

“Was he loud?”

“Very.” She sighed. “Do you have charcoal?”

He shuffled some papers around before finding the tray of charcoal he kept specially for her. She grabbed a piece and some scrap paper on his desk before sitting down on the floor, her back pressed to his desk.

He sighed. He had gotten her a chair. Numerous chairs. But she was like a cat who liked the box better than the bed, except there wasn’t even a box, just the floor.

Still, he continued on his work, mentally preparing for his brother’s visit as she drew on the ground next to him.

“Mm.” She held up her paper to him about ten minutes later.

“Thanks.” He noted her bloody fingertip before looking at the picture.

It was a macabre scene. A battlefield, with scribbled, light sketches of bodies laying on the ground surrounding a hill. Bloody fingerprints marked out blood stains on the battleground.

On top of the field stood one man. In Mary’s art style, those wings looked smoky, a bit unreal. His armor was splattered red by Mary’s blood, his eyes two glowing, pinprick embers.

He was about to open his mouth to complement the piece when Darrogh burst through the door.

“Rian!” He shouted.

“Darrogh,” Rian greeted, rather wryly. “How can I help you?”

Darrogh flopped onto the couch Rian got just for him after kicking the door shut in that dramatic way only 16 year old boys know how to do.

“I’m so tired!” He wailed. “That damn earthquake fucked everything over, and now they want me to reinforce the fucking earth.” He glared at the ceiling. “Like I know when the Mother decides to throw a tantrum.”

“Watch yourself,” Rian chided, “your language, your blasphemy, and your privilege.”

“He can say whatever,” Mary rolled her own eyes.

“I’ll not have him be injured because he can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“Oi!”

“I say he deserves it, honestly. Might as well try negative reinforcement.”

“Oi.” He scowled and sat back on the couch, arms crossed. “Whatever happened to cute little Mary who followed me around?”

“Got tired of your yelling. Plus, Uncle is significantly more interesting anyways.”

“Menaces, the both of you.” Darrogh sighed before his face grew serious. “The elders are talking.”

Rian paused for a split second in his writing before continuing. “The elders always talk, it’s all they can do.”

“They’re really talking this time, Rian.”

“And what are they saying?”

“I don’t know—”

Rian let out harsh breath and set down his quill sharply. “Darrogh—”

“They know you have ears everywhere, Rian, you’re the Ghost. I’m not, I can’t eavesdrop on every word they say—”

“And that’s exactly why—“

“But you’re not looking! You’re being soft.”

“Oh, no.” Rian barely noticed Mary scuttle out the door, giving them both the stink eye.

“Soft? I’m being soft?”

“Yes! You—!”

“No.” Rian cut his hand through the air sharply. Water droplets formed and hung suspended in the air, following the path of his hand. “Shit.” He flicked his fingers and they dispersed into water vapor once again. “Darrogh, I’m not going soft, I’m busy!”

“Busy!” He reeled back as if he had been slapped. “You sound just like him, you know that?”

“Holy Father above, Darrogh!” He slammed a hand down on his desk as he stood up. “There were so many things wrong with our Father and busy is the one you choose? Darrogh, I’m doing your job on top of mine. You asked for this, not me.”

That shut him up real quickly, and guilt sank in Rian’s gut. He sighed and collapsed back into his chair. “I’m in charge of protecting 217 people. I don’t blame you for not wanting to take that on at 14 but Darrogh, I can’t be everywhere at once.” He shrugged. “I’m not the only one who has ears. They can talk about me all they want, I really don’t care. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. And they can try to kill me, if they want, and if they’re not patient enough for my own body to do it for them. But they know that I’m the one keeping this place running, they know that you’ll never take the chair until you’re ready, and they know no one else is going to take the chair because there’ll be riots before the day is done. So please, let them talk, it’s all they can do with their raggedy bones. Anything else?”

Darrogh also sat down, a lot more somber now. “They want you to kill the Tengu.”

Rian’s heart dropped. “Of course they do,” he sighed. “Everyone wants the Tengu dead.”

“They think you’re the only one who can do it.”

“I probably am.” He sighed, even as the thought of it made him feel even more ill.

“I could—“

“One day, Darrogh, you will be powerful enough to bring the Earth to the Sky so you can ground the Tengu. That day is not today, and until then, the only way to kill that boy is to do it when he doesn’t even realize you were there.” Like a ghost.

“I don’t think you should—“

“I can’t do this argument, right now. If you’re only here to complain politics, can we wait until after the Blood Moon is over with? I have rituals to deal with.”

Darrogh was silent, but then he nodded.

“I’ll be strong enough, one day. Soon, when he’s still young. He may have gotten that Title of his, but I’ll take it from him. He deserves it, for killing all those people.”