“For power to be used, it needs first be found. Thus, aspiring Artists are commonly referred to as Seekers, up to the moment they gain access to their Inner Landscape, the source of their power.”
From The Stages Of The Arts by Zakaria Bates: The Seeker
For the first time in his life, Silas truly understood what it meant to be afraid.
Darkness embraced him as he fled into the forest, the thick undergrowth tearing at his clothes and ripping his skin open. He caught a quick glimpse of his pursuer. The towering figure spat out harsh, guttural sounds as he lumbered towards Silas, the steps thumping against the damp earth. Two crude axes hung loosely in both of the man’s hands. Dark blood flowed freely from the eyes down his face, drenching his unkempt beard.
A stone appeared in Silas’ hand. Hurling it at the barbarian, Silas watched the man’s head swivel towards him. One axe pointed at him, a distorted grin etched its way across the man’s face. The warrior closed the distance with limping strides, his bleeding eyes fixated on Silas. The boy tripped. Frantically darting behind a large tree, he kept on running. The sound of his footsteps was the only thing disturbing the silence of the woods.
Silas’ head twitched as a deep, pained groan reached his ears. The barbarian had fallen to one knee, clutching his lower back with his right hand. A sudden breeze brought a sharp smell of iron with it. Silas’ pursuer was blinking incessantly, using one hand to wipe the blood out of his eyes.
A solitary ray of moonlight shone on his face and illuminated the hand, now coated in a deep red. The man stood up with a grimace. Head cocked to one side, the axe-wielding warrior resumed his pursuit in a steady trod.
Silas scrambled through the thick undergrowth, vines and plants clutching at his feet, his wide eyes focused on the path ahead of him. He had to get away. He had to escape. Thin sticks broke under his foot, the noise louder than his labored breathing. Crunch. Another piece of wood split in two. Crunch. The sound made his skin crawl, reminding him of what had happened earlier. Silas almost fell again as he tried to run even faster.
The events of the day resided in the back of his mind like a lurking predator, daring him to look past the door he so desperately sought to close. Tears welled up in his eyes, and his vision became blurry. He tripped over a protruding root, hitting his knee on something sharp. On and on his legs carried him, his mind too occupied with putting a tight lock on his too-recent memories.
Ahead of him, the trees grew even closer together, blocking out what remained of the sparse moonlight. The darkness between them was absolute. It welcomed the boy, inviting him in. The barbarian’s ragged breathing grew increasingly louder, his steps sending tremors through the earth. Ax raised high, the man’s shadow towered over Silas. A metallic glint flashed in the corner of his vision.
The weapon descended.
Silas threw himself to the side, tumbling into the promising darkness. A sudden, wet warmth spread over his back, clinging to his skin and soaking into his shirt. He peered over his shoulder. Pupils dilated, the barbarian’s face was twisted as he tried to heave himself up again. Their eyes met. Silas took a hasty step back, retreating further into the shadows. The barbarian swayed heavily, his knees buckling before collapsing onto the wet earth.
Silas turned his back on his pursuer, leaving the light behind him. Although his hand was right in front of his face, nothing but black swam before his eyes. Here, protected by the tall trees and embraced by the all-encompassing blackness, he was safe.
Alone and abandoned, but safe.
His eyes eventually adjusted to the dark, providing him with vague outlines of his surroundings. The dim moonlight strained to pierce the thick canopy above him, desperately fighting against the shadows of the soaring trees. Some distance away, one tree towered above all others, a king among pawns.
Immediately drawn to it, his feet moved of their own accord. Letting the soothing darkness seep into his bones, Silas’ surroundings faded as he concentrated on the gigantic tree ahead of him. The alternative would be to let his mind wander, to open the door he had just closed. His steps quickened. Legs bloody from the thorny undergrowth, he stumbled his way forward.
The tree was even bigger up close, its trunk so massive he could hardly believe his eyes. It stood in a large, almost circular clearing, its sheer size keeping any other vegetation at bay. Multiple layers of wavy leg-thick roots originated from the gnarly trunk and wound their way through the soft earth, creating an interweaving net of wood around two feet high all around the trunk.
Tens of feet above him, Silas glimpsed the first of the intimidating behemoth’s branches. Easily as thick as other trees, the branches pierced the dense canopy to claim their rightful place under the sun. Having reached his goal, Silas frowned and paused momentarily.
Why had he come here in the first place?
His knees buckled as the adrenaline gradually began to wear off. He needed to sleep, to forget. The roots around the trunk reached as high as his chest, the dense net of wood offering him shelter beneath their protective embrace. Silas stumbled towards the trunk and squeezed himself through the tight gaps.
His legs and back stung with an ever-increasing intensity, the pain finally surfacing from his befuddled mind. The trunk appeared to have a small hole in it which led to a niche covered with soft earth. Collapsing onto the musty bed, Silas fell asleep, the strain and exhaustion of the day finally catching up with him.
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Curled up within the niche of the massive trunk, his mind began to wander. Silas found himself in a dark and damp tunnel, a small, decrepit door standing ominously a few feet in front of him. A heavy lock hung from its handle. His back bumped against the wall of the tunnel. Silas recognized the lock: He had put it there himself. This couldn’t be—there had to be another way out. Turning around, his hands only found rough, unrelenting stone. The lock suddenly clicked and fell to the ground with a metallic ringing as it bounced off the cold stone.
“No, no, no, no, no,” Silas wailed.
Ever so slowly, the wooden door opened, its hinges creaking in protest. His heart skipped a beat as the voices from the other side of the door reached his ears.
“My dear, neither your father nor I have any magical talent whatsoever. I understand that you want to join the Guild, but please don’t be disappointed if they won’t take you in.”
The woman tipped her glasses with her index finger as her soft, clear blue eyes looked at the boy sitting at the opposite side of the carriage. Thick blond locks fell down her shoulders. She had always preferred to wear them loose. “Improper to wear my hair like that? Well, I think it’s improper for them to try and tell me what or what not to do” she would say.
Silas’ eyes widened. He recognized the scene, he knew the boy sitting on the other side of the carriage: it was him.
“Mother, we need to turn back! Tell father that...” his voice faltered as his mother did not react. He tried to take her hand, to make her look at him once more. Yet, his hand passed right through hers.
“But I know the Guild will take me in,” Silas heard his other self say, sitting on the bench opposite his mother.
“Shut up!” he screamed, moving to stand in front of his mother. “Mother, please, we need to stop the carriage and turn back, right now.”
Her light eyes looked straight through him. “Just know that there is plenty of traveling and adventuring to be done as a merchant as well, Silas.”
His other self crossed his arms, glaring at his mother. “But I want to be a Mage.”
“Why can’t you hear me, I’m right here!”
A deep voice came from the front of the carriage. “This clearing looks good, I think we’ll stop here for the night, Hannah.”
Silas scrambled to the origin of the voice. His father sat on a small wooden bench, the reins in his hands. “Father, we need to go back to Bildsfell. Please.”
“Help me unload the tent, will you, Silas?”
“Of course, father.” Silas saw himself hop out and start rummaging through the back of the carriage.
He turned to the two large horses pulling the carriage and slapped one of them on its flank. It was like he was not even there. Nothing but a spectator in his own memory, he was forced to live through it all, again. Unable to change anything.
“No, I won’t! I cannot. Not again.” He squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in his hands. “Just make it stop, please!”
The voices slowly faded away. When Silas next opened his eyes, he floated in an endless expanse with nothing but dense, white fog all around him. Nothing indicated which way was up or down, left or right. The fog was so heavy he could feel it entering his lungs, pearls of liquid accumulating on his face.
“Where am I?”
Nobody answered him. The mist was silent. Not a single breeze disturbed its clammy omnipresence. Paddling his way forward, he searched for a way out. All sense of time was lost as he kept swimming through the fog. Yet, despite all his efforts, the surroundings did not change.
“Let me out!”
Silas turned in a slow circle, trying to glimpse anything that might stand out. There was nothing; it all looked the same. Had he moved at all? There was no way to know. Head hanging down, thick tears mixed with the droplets of water collecting on his skin. Trapped in the endless white fog, Silas hugged his knees, unconsciously rocking back and forth.
There was nobody and nothing left for him to hold onto. The despair was like a poison crawling through his body, taking hold of him and pushing him deeper into the hole of his despondent thoughts.
Eventually, something snapped inside of him.
From his innermost depths, Silas reached out as only someone caught in his plight could have done. With despair guiding his actions, he subconsciously grasped at anything promising a relief from the pain.
During his nightmares, the young boy thrashed in his sleep and kicked the walls of the small niche he slept in. The raw emotion released from Silas that night would have shocked anyone, even if there was no one left to care.
No one, except the tree he slept in.
Yet, the tree was more than a simple, if massive, plant. Rattled by the sheer emotions radiating from within it, the tree woke from its deep slumber. Head-sized leaves shook as the tree stretched its thick branches. Focusing its awareness on the source of the disturbance, its ancient wood groaned in annoyance as the tree beheld the puny animal sleeping in the niche of its trunk.
Humans, they liked to call themselves. A slight tug on its awareness stopped the tree from smiting its invader. It seemed to come from the human inside of it.
The struggles of the animals and lesser plants around it were not something the tree normally bothered itself with. Most of their lifespans were whisked away within a few season-cycles anyway. There was simply no reason to waste its time on them. Nevertheless, the despair coming from the little biped deeply disturbed the tree. With a shake of its wide crown, the tree resigned itself to solve the issue. Bothersome creatures.
Studying the humans and confirming it indeed had the necessary prerequisites, the tree got to work. A large part of its Inner Landscape lost its sustenance as the tree condensed it into a swirling orb of energy, infusing a small piece of wood with it. It carved the piece of wood into a semblance of the still-sleeping human, giving itself a metaphorial pat on the back as it beheld its work.
The tree then took a small part of itself to combine it with the infused piece of wood, forcing the energies to merge. Once the connection to the newborn creature was severed, the tree nudged the tiny creature towards the still sleeping human. Being quite content with the solution it had come up with, the tree congratulated itself for its wise decision. For a gift so small, it had exhausted the tree way more than it should have.
‘Maybe I am getting old, after all.’
With a sigh that shook its top-most branches and caused the plate-sized leaves of the canopy to rustle, the tree returned to its deep slumber.
Meanwhile, Silas continued to be trapped in the white mist as he thrashed around in his sleep. Where the dense fog had previously been utterly devoid of life, it now held a new presence to it, one he felt resonating with his own. Intrigued, he reached out to it. A bridge began to form itself, causing sensations from the other side to carry over to him. Uncertainty, loneliness, and fear. Feelings Silas did his best to keep a tight lock on.
He sent his own emotions back, trying to reassure whatever was on the other side. A sense of acceptance soon entered him, which he then returned. After a while, the bridge between him and the unknown entity became more solid with each passing moment, and with it the sensations more vivid. Eventually, the bridge nested itself deep into his very being. The new presence calmed his inner turmoil, giving his troubled mind a much-needed rest. The fog faded.
As the sun climbed its way up towards the sky, the darkness of the woods grudgingly gave way to the first rays of light that penetrated the canopy and illuminated the forest. The sun began to tickle Silas’ skin. He opened his eyes and froze.
Something stood in front of him.