Chapter 32: [Sense: Omens]

“Air Mystic Relja,” said Vick5, scanning her with his eyepiece. “You hold an unidentifiable item. Explain?”

Relja stole a glace at me, and I shook my head “no,” remembering Medett’s warning. Though she could not tell me the potion’s purpose, Medett believed it to be too rare and important to include an ex-Telemoon member in any quest involving it.

Relja’s cheeks blushed. She was not one for fabrications. I felt a twinge of guilt at requesting a made-up excuse.

Instead, I spoke up; “It is a brand new quest. Perhaps your Telemoon device needs updating? To reflect its presence in the game?”

“Mmm, yea,” Relja followed my lead. “I’m to deliver the potion somewhere, but I don’t know where yet. It’s one of those figure-it-out-as-you-go type quests.”

DarkNeon remained silent during our banter. If she was skeptical of our explanation, she held her tongue, no doubt happy to keep Vick5 in the dark about something. She gave me a surreptitious side-eye, wordlessly saying: “You’re going to tell me later, right?”

I offered her the slightest nod. Satisfied, she turned her attention back to the dirt path with its rocks and rivulet-eroded curves.

Relja returned the Enttang potion to her [Moth Dust Robe]’s inventory, but its glow grew as we continued on and the robe’s thin fibers failed to contain the orange light leaking through.

“Well wherever you’re supposed to deliver it to,” said DarkNeon, “seems like we’re getting warmer.”

“Your explanations are insufficient,” said Vick5, “but I do not fault you for requiring more evidence of my loyalty. I must gain trust levels.”

“Wha,” Relja’s cheeks went rosier, “what do you mean?”

“They said they don’t know where the potion’s going,” said DarkNeon. “That means they don’t know.”

The former Chemist spoke no further on it.

“There’s a village near the Grave Grove,” said Relja. “Master Trainers aplenty in this valley. Just need to ask someone who knows more about potions than I do.”

Relja whistled a low, oscillating tune, and snatched a handful of broad oak leaves she had blown up from the ground. She wrapped the potion to dim its glow before pocketing it.

The time cycle had twisted toward late afternoon as we neared our destination. The Grave Grove stood distinct from the forests encircling far and wide, for it housed truly ancient trees. Dark pines and old oaks parted to either side as we walked the well-beaten path into the sacred site. They were dwarfed by redwoods and sequoias, which seemed to hold the sky aloft.

We dismounted, leaving Yolo and Fizzu tied to a weathered wattle fence encircling the grounds. I imagined the inner stand of trees as ancient watchers. A ring of cairn stones encircled them. Unlike the spindly, porous markers around the Remembering Ring, these stones were dense boulders, weighing down the rich old earth they sat upon.

DarkNeon ran a curious finger up the smooth stone. “Ok,” she said. “We’re here. Now what?”

“We await the Druid’s arrival,” I said.

“Hiding the Robot Prototype Head from Telemoon is certain to consume time,” said Vick5. “We may wait longer than is logical.”

“But without Ursamigo we’re up a creek,” DarkNeon shrugged. “I’m gonna go explore.”

“Ooh, yeah,” said Relja. “Me too?”

“C’mon,” said the Rogue, dashing off among the grove’s towering denizens.

But she dashed back in a quick flash, pointing at Vick5. “Don’t think we’re not watching you,” she said, then zoomed out of view again.

Relja followed, meandering in DarkNeon’s direction while gazing up at trees.

Vick5 stood silent, crossing his arms. He allowed his character model to slip into its idle mode animation; checking gears, tuning forearm modules, oiling joints, tightening tube connections.

“I am told there was a Spirit Harvest here,” I said. “Something similar to Stonesthrow Island. Telemoon were the culprits there.”

His idle animation whirred back into attention. “Do you hypothesize Telemoon instigated a Spirit Harvest at this location? I can corroborate.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“Affirmative. The primary purposes were research, data collection, and material acquisition.”

“Do you have access to whatever twisted results they gained?”

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Negative,” said Vick5, scanning the vicinity. His voice took a more candid tone; “They never deployed me on missions involving Spirit Realm manipulation. My educated guess? The Mentalist Troika, or an underling of significant proximity, determined me to be a calculable risk for such endeavors.”

“They suspected you might abandon Telemoon at some point?”

“It is conceivable. Motive detection algorithms were under development. Test trials may have occurred without my knowledge.”

“Did you consider leaving the guild when Azwold did?”

“I considered it.”

“They kept an eye on you thereafter?”

“It is conceivable.”

“Oy!” a yell came from deeper in the Grove. “Come look at this!”

Vick5 and I hurried toward DarkNeon’s voice. She was standing atop a massive stump.

“Look around!” said Relja, distraught.

The soil around the stump was grey in a withering radius. The sparse grasses and thin flowers ubiquitous to the grove bent near the stump, dead and drained of color.

But only around the stump. Vitality and color were intact elsewhere.

“Back on Talus Bluffs,” said Relja, melancholy, “the motes whispered of Stonesthrow by chance. If I’d listened longer...waited for the winds to shift…”

“What does Mr. Techno know about this?” said DarkNeon, brandishing a dagger at Vick5.

“Only that my ex-guild harvested this ancient redwood,” he said, raising his hands up. “The responsibility is theirs.”

“Gods, you guys are awful,” Relja put her face in her hands.

“Please, Air Mystic Relja, the vandalization of this site disgusts me as well.”

“Yeah, okay,” she said after a long breath in. “I wish my elder Neejael were here to help us.”

“Isn’t that some kind of Air Mage trainer?” asked DarkNeon. Then a quick afterthought: “They’re gone? I’m sorry to hear.”

Relja nodded. “I know I get into the role playing pretty deep sometimes, but Air Elder Neejael was more than a trainer to me. I’m still sad about it. If I had known...”

I gazed empty-socketed at her, waiting.

“The questline I accepted—the one involving the sickness and Tang Trees—it had my Elder’s demise written into it. If I had learned that beforehand, I might’ve held off. Maybe indefinitely.”

“Yeah, but we might not have crossed paths otherwise,” said DarkNeon. “We wouldn’t be here now.”

“I get overwhelmed sometimes,” said Relja. “I know Realms of Lore is just a game, but the more time I spend logged in, the less real real-life seems compared.”

“This is real to me,” I said.

“That’s part of it,” she said. “I dunno if you guys know this, but higher level Air Mystics often dual-school into Spirit. The ethereal, mystical nature of air magic blends well with spirit stuff. I’ve been in a mild state of awe. How did I get wrapped up in Azwold and Eld’s story at just the right time? When I really needed help with a spirit magic problem?”

“Serendipity?” said DarkNeon.

Relja gave her a significant shrug. “You might call it that. I think of it more as an omen.”

“Omens?” I said.

“Well, hmm,” she considered her words. “Think of it like this: outside of the game, I see 11:11 a lot on the clock. Now, I know that time only rolls around twice a day, four times in-game, but it feels like I see it more than others. Am I really seeing it more, or am I just in tune with a specific time because it’s on my mental radar?”

“Chaos versus coincidence,” said Vick5.

“Yeah,” she said, impressed.

“But what about the omens?” said DarkNeon.

“Hmm. Okay, let’s take the scientific method. It’s all about coming up with testable ideas, making observations, taking measurements, comparing results, and so on. With omens, I’m kind of in a perpetual state of collecting evidence, supporting concepts my mind’s fixated on. Sometimes subconsciously; or maybe mostly? The more evidence, the stronger my inclination to take an omen seriously.”

“Wise,” said Vick5.

“Air Mystics do have high Wisdom scores, same as Spirit Mages,” she said. “The hard part is deciding whether something is happening more, or if I’m just seeing omens because I’m looking for them. It’s literally a class aura I can’t turn off: [Sense: Omens].”

“You know,” DarkNeon said, “I remember back in high school, there was this really cool backpack I wanted. Back-O-Pack. Remember those? But I couldn’t get my folks to spring for one. I started seeing them everywhere. I dunno if I was actually seeing more of them, or if I was just on the lookout because I thought they were cool.”

“That’s the idea, yep,” Relja nodded. “My point being is this; I don’t think I’m mixed up with you guys by accident. I think we’re tangled together by some kinda fate.”

“Fate is a probability map,” Vick5 stated. “Each action either increases or decreases the likelihood of future outcomes based on decisions made from moment to moment.”

“Or maybe it’s written in the stars?” the Rogue shrugged. “Who knows.”

“Whatever the case may be,” I said, “we are here now and I am glad to have allies. Friends.”

“Alllright,” said DarkNeon, jumping from the stump in a front flip, landing gracefully on dead pine needles, then sliding to a halt. “Before anyone gets too mushy about all this, we should figure out what the heck we’re supposed to do here. Finding Azwold?”

Relja peered around. “Sorry, it looked like we had time for digression.”

“Celebrity or no,” I said, “I am uncomfortable with our entire course relying on one tardy player.”

“Hard same,” said DarkNeon. “I don’t feel like standing around. What about you Dr. Robotnik? Are we maximizing our efficiency?”

“Indeterminate.”

“There must be quests for this place,” said Relja, eyes narrowing. “So, why is it so quiet?”

“Perhaps this location’s status is similar to Gnarlroot Hill?” I said.

“What, you mean like ‘Down for Maintenance’?” asked DarkNeon.

“Aye, or afflicted by coding defects because of meddling?”

I looked to Vick5. “Your hypotheses are within the realm of possibility,” he said.

The deep hooting of an owl floated to us, then the owl himself, flapping to alight upon the dead stump.

In a viridescent swirl of plant matter, fur, and feathers, Ursamigo assumed his caster form, leaning on his oaken owl staff.

“Whew,” he said, mimicking his owl hooting. “I think I lost ‘em. You guys have no idea how much time I waste trying to lose people.”

“Must be rough,” said the Rogue.

“Yes, well,” said Ursamigo with an ambiguous smile, “are we ready to do this? Eld, you have Azwold’s [Hive Scepter], right? His tablet? All his things?”

“I believe I have access to most of his stuff, yes.”

“Good, good,” said the Druid. “So basically, what we’re gonna do here is recreate the night Azwold first summoned you. We’ll use that same spell, but modify it to work here in the Grave Grove instead.”

“Oh wow,” said Relja, “that sounds exciting.”

“If by ‘exciting’ you mean complicated and nearly impossible, then yeah,” DarkNeon said.

“Oh it’s possible,” said Ursamigo. “I think. But I’ll have to be offline at my office workstation to facilitate. Might get a little hairy.”

“Describe the procedure and our involvement,” said Vick5.

Ursamigo retrieved a satchel from his inventory, then dumped a pile of materials onto the stump with muted clinks and plops. “I think this’ll do it, but let’s go over the details, yeah.”

He explained the plan in a somewhat comprehensible way, then said; “Alright, I’m off. Good luck kiddos!”

And then he logged off in another viridescent swirl, leaving moss green bear paw prints on the stump which faded away in seconds.