“Is that your final answer?” the Archdruid asked, and the Druids around Jeb stilled.
Jeb knew without a doubt that his refusal to force his bees to attack each other would mean failing this test. Much as he wanted to pass the Druid Trial, though, he still could not make himself answer with anything but, “it is.”
“Very well.”
Jeb blinked in surprise. The Archdruid had not called the test a failure. The tension started to bleed out of Jeb’s shoulders as the Archdruid slowly walked towards the edge of the clearing. Just as he reached it, however, he turned sharply.
The Archdruid spoke a single syllable. His staff lit up in violent green light, runes forming and twisting in the air around it. The light began to crawl towards Jeb, growing brighter and more sickly as it approached. By the time that it reached him, it seemed more a liquid than mere light.
As the light touched Jeb’s feet, he felt a searing pain deep within his soul. His physical foot felt as though it was bathed in cool river water, which made the entire experience more jarring. Suddenly, the pain in his soul matched the pain in his foot as glyphs burned themselves onto his skin. They began tracing up his legs, and Jeb found himself rooted to the spot.
As the Archdruid’s Magic rose to Jeb’s abdomen, he felt the connection to his bees start to stretch. His bees, despite still buzzing around him, felt as though they were leagues and years away. When the poison crossed his heart, Jeb saw his bees vanish, pulled away from him.
The familiar presence of his lute on his back was all that kept Jeb from truly panicking. The fact that his Bond to the lute had not been harmed made him feel confident that whatever had happened to his bees was ultimately temporary. As he forced himself to believe that, the gel crossed his shoulders, and Jeb watched as the lute strap was engulfed with fire the same color as the Magic.
The lute fell to the ground, no longer held up by his strap. Despite the fact that it had only fallen from his back, Jeb felt his soul shatter as the lute did. He finally understood his aunt’s warning against Binding his soul to another. With the lute and bees gone, Jeb felt alone in a way that he never had before.
As the flames grew over his lips, Jeb found that he could no longer breathe. When they crossed his ears and eyes, he found himself blind and deaf. And, when the flames finally reached the top of his head, Jeb knew nothing except pain.
Jeb stayed in that burning agony for an endless eternity. Rather than peaking, the pain continued to grow worse with each passing moment. The burning in his lungs began to match the burning in his soul. Even as the most primal part of him begged to breathe, Jeb knew that letting this foul Magic into his body would be his last mistake.
Left with only his thoughts and pain, Jeb tried to find a way out of the prison. His only Skill was Magic, and he called on it. It resisted his pull, and Jeb was aware of the many ways that his own soul differed from the ideal for his Class. Jeb faded, and the man cloaked in midnight returned.
More fully aligned to Magic, the man pushed back against the Archdruid’s working. Snippets of the glyphs reminded him of runes that he had worked with. Rather than fighting the entire casting, the man shifted the runes ever so slightly. As the new Enchantment took effect, the pain lessened.
Just as quickly as it lessened, however, the glyphs shifted, and the pain returned. The man found that he could no longer reach his Enchanting. Looking at the core of the Archmage’s prison, the man saw the Essence of pain and imprisonment. Knowing that it was hopeless to oppose either Essence, the Wizard forged the two Essences into one, imprisoning the pain. He slumped in relief, feeling the pain subside.
Before he could open his eyes, however, the pain redoubled, breaking free of his bonds. The Essences within the Magic started shifting more quickly than the Wizard could see, and he knew that Alchemy would not save him. The way that the Essences flowed still had some semblance of a pattern. Even the pain, as constantly crescendoing as it was, had its own sort of melody. The midnight cloaked man changed the key of the song, shifting it to something lighter. For the briefest instant, the pain dampened, a breath mark in the notation building tension.
As with all pauses, however, it ended. The pain resumed, and the musicality in the violence turned to nothing but noise. Digging through the informal Magics he had learned, the Wizard tried to Weave, Carve, and beat the Magic into submission. None worked, and he turned to his final Magic, the one which his entire solar system of power had been built around.
The sickly light had begun as a sharp line from the Archdruid. As his head started to swim from a lack of oxygen, the Wizard saw the lines of light between the bleeding. He tried to change the flow into something which would relieve his pain, if only for an instant. The Magic snapped back before he could do anything, and he passed out from the Backlash.
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“Is that your final answer?” the Archdruid asked, and the Druids around Jeb stilled.
The scene was identical to the last time he had refused the Archdruid. Even after all the pain, Jeb still could not bring himself to harming the bees. “It is,” he said once again, feeling a little proud at the fact that his voice did not quaver.
The Archdruid raised his hand. Jeb’s bees were suddenly torn from his presence. As his soul screamed in pain, Jeb hardly noticed his lute being taken as well. This torture was far faster, however, and the pain quickly subsided to something which only dulled his mind, rather than consuming it fully.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Follow me.” The Archdruid’s tone left no room for disagreement.
Gasping for air, Jeb followed him. The Archdruid moved faster than he had before. The pace he set was fast enough that Jeb was unable to catch his breath. Finally, he stopped in front of a hole in the ground that radiated menace and sorrow.
“Are you familiar with the term oubliette?” the Archdruid asked, turning to Jeb.
“I am not,” Jeb admitted. “What is it?”
“You will see shortly,” the Archdruid said, shoving Jeb forward. The hole grew to encase Jeb, tightening back down as he fell. He landed with a jolt of pain, and Jeb felt something in his leg crack.
“An oubliette,” the Archdruid’s voice drifted down from the small pinprick of light above, “is a form of low maintenance prison. As you can see, it is little more than a deep hole in the ground. The only way in or out is through the entrance. They are used for prisoners that one wishes to forget about.”
“What am I doing in one?” Jeb asked, still hoping that there was more to the situation than he was seeing.
“It has become clear to me that you will not become a Druid. You have seen truths of the Enclave that no outsider may see, and you speak the Tongue. To allow you to return to the Republic would be the height of folly. And, before you try to call your Magic to escape, all Magics are locked within the space. Goodbye, Jeb. Someone will be by eventually to throw some food and water down.”
Jeb did not hear the Archdruid walk away. He stood, wincing at the pain in his left ankle. If he was going to be trapped here for the rest of his life, he would need to know how much space they had given him.
A few seconds later, Jeb had paced the entire space left to him. He was trapped inside of a circular room just barely larger than his outstretched arms. Sitting down, Jeb once again lost himself to his Class.
The Wizard looked around the space, seeing the Magics woven into every mote of dust. Something deep inside his Skill thrummed at the knowledge that the natural imperfections in the wall, rather than detracting from the strength of the Magic, actively made the working stronger. Seeing that, he tried scratching a new mark into the ground.
His fingernail was softer than the ground, but he saw no other way out. The Wizard ground his finger into the rock until his bone was showing. Finally, he scratched the smallest mark into the ground. Watching the Magic rework itself around the crack, the Wizard understood.
The man cloaked in midnight reached out and grasped the loose strands of the working. Pulling, he felt the working thrum down into the center of the earth and resonate up to the air above. He felt the roots of each tree and blade of grass around the hole. He saw each worm twining its way through the soil. The sheer torrent of information that suddenly flooded the Wizard’s senses knocked him unconscious.
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When Jeb awoke, he saw that his Status was prompting him.
Congratulations! You have completed the Minor Quest “Learn Druidic Magic”. Rewards: 500 Experience, Identify Subskill –
The screen in front of him glitched, which caused Jeb to panic for a moment. When it resolved, the Quest Reward had changed slightly.
Congratulations! You have completed the Minor Quest “Learn Druidic Magic”. Rewards: 500 Experience, Gift of Gab Upgrade
Congratulations! You have learned the Magical Skill: “Druidic Magic”
Jeb looked around, confused for a moment at his surroundings. He had only the vaguest memories of everything that had happened to him after failing the last Trial. Still, reaching out with his Magic, Jeb called the wind around him and rose to the lip of the oubliette. The Archdruid was standing there when he rose, beaming with a smile that reminded Jeb of his grandfather.
“I knew you could do it!” the leader of the Druidic Enclave cried, embracing Jeb in a warm hug.
Jeb heard the man sniff, and was quickly thrust back, even as the Archdruid’s arms remained wrapped around him.
“You are not a Druid,” he commented.
“I am not,” Jeb agreed, feeling his Magic Skill already working to consume Druidic Magic.
The world around Jeb suddenly came into focus as the Archdruid stared deep beneath Jeb’s physical body and into his soul.
“You have Druidic Magic.”
“I do.”
A light flashed in the Archdruid’s eyes. “I find that I am beginning to understand the appeal of your Class. I suppose that Druidic Magic, like the other Schools you have learned, will be consumed when next you Upgrade your Class?”
“I hope so!” Jeb responded honestly.
Nodding, the Archdruid released Jeb, turning to face the trees.
Taking a deep breath, he spoke, and Jeb watched the forest carry his words. Where the forest ended, the air and earth and water transmitted it further. “The Wizard known as Jeb will not be a Druid. Despite this, he has demonstrated Druidic Magic. As he has not become a Druid, his Name remains-”
Jeb heard the Archdruid give a grunt of annoyance. A pulse of the Archmage’s will suffused the entire Enclave, and as his Magic suffused everything, the world stilled. He began to speak again, tone growing imperious as he enunciated each syllable clearly. Now that he was paying more attention, Jeb found that he was able to recognize that he was speaking Druidic, not Republican. What else the Upgraded Gift of Gab would give him, he was unsure.
“Now then, Jeb has been given my permission to learn what he can from any Circle. You are not required to offer him succor or aid, but you are allowed to. I will see you at the solstice.”
He turned back to Jeb, all the force leaking out of him.
“As you can hopefully see, it is not good for me to remain in the Enclave indefinitely. Like a tall tree, I stunt the growth of those weaker than me simply by existing. However, I have every confidence in the lessons you will learn. I hope to see you at the solstice.”
Having said his piece, the Archdruid struck his staff against the ground three times. The first time the wood met stone, Jeb heard an ocean with waves that could swallow the entire Republic. With the second, he saw liquid rock and flame pouring forth, consuming everything in its wake. With the final strike, Jeb watched the Archdruid step into his home, a wolf pup as tall as Jeb bounding towards the man. As the portal closed, Jeb saw the tension leave the leader of the Druids.