Moriko arrived at the armory and took a moment to pull her hair into a comfortable tail at the base of her neck before she stepped inside.

A veteran Shrine Maiden with a ghastly scar on her face greeted her warmly, and she returned the greeting.

“I thought I might get some archery practice in.” She offered after greetings were exchanged.

The woman smiled. Were it not for the long scar that ran from the left side of her forehead straight down across her eye to her left cheekbone she would be quite lovely, Moriko decided.

“You know what I think? I think a young acolyte is going to be taking a trip to the Stony Pool and she wants to bring her favorite bow with her.”

Reluctantly, Moriko nodded with a little chagrin, and the older woman laughed knowingly but not unkindly.

“Fear not, little acolyte. I was asked just a short time ago to pack away a bow and some arrows for you. I made sure it was your favorite, too.”

Moriko scrunched her brows together. Technically all weapons belonged to the Shrine, but Moriko had indeed preferred one bow above all others. It had the right tension, the perfect flexibility and seemed to come alive in her hands.

“Everyone goes through this phase.” The woman explained kindly. “It’s nothing special. They find a bow, a naginata, or a katana that fits their body. I think that when you grow up you will realize that particular bow will no longer fit you anymore, and you will find another that suits you better.”

Moriko digested this, and nodded after some thought.

She rather liked the fact that she was very much like everyone else. It was like she was following the footsteps of those that came before, leaving her footprints in the same ground that those who came after her would follow. She was no different from anyone else.

The woman gestured to her for her to wait, disappeared into the back, and returned carrying a wakizashi, a short sword.

“I was told to outfit you for your travel to the Stony pool. No Shrine Maiden should be without a sword, but you’re too small yet for a proper blade.”

Moriko gave her a petulant look, and the woman smiled. “Don’t give me that look, little one. Soon enough you will grow big and strong to match that fierce temper.”

She set the blade on the counter. “There is no expectation that you will need a sword, of course. You’re simply traveling from the Ancient Pine to the Stony Pool.” She paused. “However, it’s very likely that the path has become overgrown. It may fall to you to cut a path through the brush and such so that everyone can pass through.”

Moriko frowned dubiously. “I am to use temple steel to cut through shrubbery?” She scoffed.

The woman smiled a little at this. “A tool is not demeaned by its use. A blade is meant to cut, Acolyte, and now you have one. Spend time cleaning and oiling your blade and you should have no problems.”

Moriko lifted the blade and turned it over in her hands, and then bared an inch of blade. The grain of the blade was fine, and the edge uncommonly bright and sharp.

“That was made by the swordsmith Sadamune. Its epitaph is Ropecutter.” She gave another half-smile. “So you won’t be dishonoring the blade by using it to cut shrubbery.”

Moriko rolled the handle across her knuckles, whirled it in a tight pattern, switched grips, and tested its weight and balance. Finally, she slid the blade in her sash and slanted it properly so that it was ready to draw at a moment’s notice. The armorer nodded approvingly, and then smirkingly laid a tightly rolled leather bundle on the counter.

“That is..?” Moriko began, and the woman frowned. “You didn't expect to get a blade and simply use it? You’ll need to clean and maintain the sword on your own, from now on.”

She propped an elbow on her hand. “That’s yours, by the way. It was a blade given to my family by Sadamune. I expect that I’ll never see it again because it’s yours... unless you die. So don’t die.” The woman got up and went into the armory and closed the door behind her.

Moriko fetched a sigh from somewhere around her sandals and let it out.

*****

The tree held no interest in those that passed through it on their way to the Cycle of Rebirth. The tree wanted to plunge its roots deep into the earth and stretch its branches wide to catch the sun. The tree would provide rest, shelter, and peace to those that rested beneath its mighty boughs, but it had no care for the world of men and elves and beast-kin. It dreamed its slow tree dreams and existed in the tidal pull of sap running through its trunk and the passing of an infinity of seasons.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

An animal might sharpen its claws against its bark, a man might test its axe against its armored trunk, but an animal or a man lived only a few years while the patience of the tree was the patience of millenia. Animals and men alike would crumble to dust in the time it would take for the mighty tree to even notice.

Deep inside one of the tree-dreams, a meeting was taking place.

A young woman with hair that seemed to be ablaze without being consumed eyed the tree, and turned to the faceless statue.

“You see? I think it’s dead. We should have held this meeting in my realm, where my power holds sway. If it were truly alive, then it would take a form capable of communicating with us... or risk burning to death in my embers.” For a moment the woman flickered between a girlish figure and a titanic creature , birdlike, carved from flame. In its heart roared the infinite fury of a small star.

“It is not my place to judge.” The Nameless Stone replied.

“You always say that.” The burning woman complained, not unkindly.

Out in the shadows, things burbled, hissed and screeched in their madness. They resembled horrific, shapeless monsters, all teeth and frothing eyes and gelatinous, rubbery skin, boiling with the power of chaos.

“It is your time, Ancient Pine! Wake up and pay attention!” The burning woman screeched.

Slowly, ponderously, the Great tree’s fissured bark began to bulge, and a figure emerged without gender, composed entirely of wood.

“What is it that you want?” The tree demanded in an indifferent voice that implied that it couldn’t care at all with what they said, would not care what they said, would ignore what they said, and promptly forget what was said immediately after hearing it.

“The Marauder stalks the world of men! Why have you not released the Songweaver?” The Phoenix demanded.

The tree-person immediately adopted a posture of thought, and then, in a lackadaisical, indifferent voice, “The Songweaver does not belong to me.”

The Phoenix hissed in anger, and a sense of disappointment and disapproval radiated from the Nameless Stones’ avatar.

“The Empress has been released into the world.” The Ancient Pine offered indifferently, its voice indicating the strongest desire to go back to its timeless sleep.

The Phoenix sighed and shook her head, casting a glance at the Nameless Stone. “It thinks it’s discharged its duty to the world by releasing the Empress into the world, when the Songweaver is the only one to bring peace to the Marauder's madness.”

“I am not the keeper of the Empress.” came the apathetic response from the Ancient Pine. “I just noticed her advent.” The unconcerned tree offered in an unhurried tone. “Have you forgotten who owns her?”

The Nameless Stone decided to speak, then. “The Marauder has been loosed upon the world before without unleashing his madness upon the world.”

The Phoenix shook her head. “I took the madness from him for a time, to spare his suffering.” She clamped her lips tightly together. “I had to return it to him.”

A silence colder and deeper than the depths of infinity itself stretched between the three Originals.

“On that note,” The Phoenix announced, “I have decided to take a vacation in the World of the Real. The girl is becoming most insistent in her summonings. It seems she is traveling to the Caverns of Archetypes for her ritual.”

The sudden silence in this proclamation casually dropped into the conversation was deeper, stronger, and colder than the previous.

The Phoenix indifferently flicked a finger in the neutral space that had been created by the Ancient Pine, carving a doorway back to the Realm of Fire, effortlessly revealing the tremendous power it carried within its burning breast.

The Nameless Stone and the Ancient Pine were Originals, they were created specifically by She, like the Sentinel and Weaver. The Phoenix was an Original too, so they should have held the exact same powers and strengths. It was their job as Elder Gods to supervise the reincarnation cycle for the mortals in the World of the Real. That was their job, and that should have been the beginning, middle, and ending of their powers, yet the Phoenix had demonstrated a power that was superior to their own... and casually announced that she was going to take a “vacation” in the World of the Real, incarnating herself as a human being.

Could something like that even be done?

The wooden figure crawled back into the Tree and the Ancient Pine faded from the space it had created, leaving only the Nameless One. The rustle and hissing and gasping from the Elder Things on the outer edges of the space the Nameless One existed in grew louder.

Poor, insane, broken things. They would never be what they once were.

The Nameless Stone faded, collapsing the space he had occupied.