A Fool’s Fate isn’t ordained, just predictable. Fate is prediction, and prophecy is a lie—anyone who says otherwise is a fool. Crows are also creatures of fate—harbingers. They do not foretell doom but warn of its potential—ignore the signs, and you’ll understand the truth of a Fool’s Fate.
~Morrigan, The Mysterious Goddess of Fate
S.E. 13026
Litavis had nine continents, and each had a Keystone and Guardian. The Keystones were part of a formation that kept Tur Briste anchored to Litavis, but they had another name—Portals of Ascension. These were permanent gateways into the tower.
Oiche was unique. None of the other continents had Father Oak, which had grown around its Keystone. The portal to the tower was deep within its trunk. While the Druid Order controlled access, they would not deny entry—this was an unspoken rule among cultivators and would call the Wrath of the Heavens down on them.
All of that was only one facet of Oiche’s uniqueness. Situated under such a massive canopy without sunlight or precipitation, the city’s buildings, roads, and other industries also had a distinct look and feel.
“Conall! Is that your boy?” a street vendor asked.
Crow’s papa greeted him, but he promised to visit later since they were in a rush. The busy street had many people running about, and many of them knew his papa. Most of the crowd appeared to be heading in the same direction. Crow didn’t understand what was happening, but his papa didn’t seem worried.
Conall saw his son’s roaming eyes and pointed out a few things.
“See anything different about these buildings?”
“They are flat on top,” Crow said.
“Yes. A pitched roof is mostly to keep precipitation out; in Oiche, that is one thing they don’t need to worry about. You can learn a lot about a place by observing its structures. Most of these buildings have outdoor living spaces and even gardens on top of them. Between the living space and the interior, magical formations are used to retain heat while active. Those are almost always necessary during the extreme cold brought about during winter.”
Residents only had to worry about one weather condition—the cold. Because they were on the northern continent, the temperatures were so extreme that the entire city would get covered in frost during the winter. They wouldn’t get any snow, but the lack of sunlight made the colder weather even more bitter.
Mugna, the name of the Guardian, could shape Father Oak, buildings, and anything below the surface—including plumbing. The price to have a building connected and built from Father Oak’s roots was high, but they were nearly indestructible. The best part was that Father Oak’s wood radiated heat so they wouldn’t need formations or furnaces.
The inner city had one major road that circled Father Oak, and it was wide, flat, and layered with close-fit stone. Even the bridges over the wetlands, streams, and rivers were barely raised above street level. While snow and rain couldn’t reach Oiche, it didn’t lack natural water flow, and Father Oak helped create some of them by forcing water closer to the surface.
“This road is called Sacrair, but everyone calls it Oak street. Notice the side closest to Father Oak is only manors, and the nine original clans own almost all of them. Inside those walls are dozens of smaller lodges connected to one main one. They usually use more area underground than above,” Conall pointed out the rows of walled sections with guards standing in front of the gates.
“Why?” Crow asked, trying to move his shorter legs faster so he could keep up with his father.
“Private courtyards. Cultivators usually won’t cultivate underground and require exposure to the world. Condensing the living space to either rise or go below the surface provides more surface area for private courtyards within the manor.” Conall rubbed Crow’s head, messing up his hair.
“Papa, stop!” Crow swatted the hand away. “Is it important to practice outside?”
“Cultivating is about accumulating power and strengthening your body and Source. Many methods rely on affinities related to Mana types like fire, stone, and water. You, for example, have a strong affinity toward Wood. Do you think you’d cultivate well underground in an area surrounded by Stone Mana?”
Crow realized this was important information but currently had no Source nor Mana Sense, so it wasn’t something he had to worry about just yet. The gates of the nearby manor opened, and inside, he saw a massive lodge that looked more like a private hotel. There was a lot of open terrain surrounding it with sculpted pathways and beautiful gardens.
“In the winter, most of those that stay in Oiche will move to the main lodge and abandon the private ones. A massive fireplace is used inside the lobby to redirect heat throughout the house. It is more cost-effective. Except for Yule, most families will head to their ancestral grounds for the winter. Once you become an Ovate, the cold won’t bother you much anymore.”
“What is an Ovate?” Crow asked. “And why doesn’t the cold bother them?”
“A cultivator will improve their Body, allowing them to resist things like the cold. Druids have a simple hierarchy. A normal clan member hasn’t opened their Source. An Ovate is the first step to becoming a Druid.”
“So an Ovate is someone that opened their Source?”
“Yes. And a Druid is an Ovate that gains a Shield. So opening your Source isn’t enough to become a Druid. There are different rankings for Druids, but those aren’t necessarily a reflection of power but respect. The only titles that contain both respect and power among Druids are Archdruids and Bards.”
“The people that sing at festivals?”
“Yes and no. Many of those are entertainers, but they borrow the name ‘bard’ from our people because that was how we used to share our history. We’d sing our lore to our younger generation during bitter winters and speak of things long past. We didn’t write our histories down because we feared being discovered by the people that almost killed off all our ancestors. Our Bards are different, and you should know that you are one. Opening your bloodline and gaining Sage’s Mind is the only requirement.”
“Do you mean my memory?”
“Yes. Sage’s Mind is the name of your ability to remember everything without fail because we are Mind-based cultivators. This bloodline power will give you an advantage beyond all others.”
The father-son duo continued to walk toward their destination. Crow’s eyes were drawn toward the floating lanterns all over the city. While people called it the City of Darkness, Crow admitted it was beautiful and bright. The lighting looked natural and had increased since they entered the city.
“The lanterns are sensitive toward the sun’s power. They will mirror the night and day cycle, which means they are brighter during the day and dim at night.”
“Do I have any perks as a Bard?” Crow asked, but he never stopped taking in all the sights.
“You aren’t formally recognized as one, so no. You need to do a few things for the formal recognition, but you are too young. Namely, you need to craft your instrument, and usually, Bards pick a specialty—an area of study. They are highly regarded because we rely on them to advance our knowledge.”
“Is that because the Draoidh were natural historians?”
“It is. The Druids of our age still pursue those goals, but we’ve lost so much of our past. Because of it, we’ve forgotten who we are. Look around this city. Do you see parents lauding martial ability or academics? The Draoidh reigned at the top of the upper realms because of their knowledge, and that was—no, that is our power. Now, people look at us and talk about how much we love nature and are expert hunters. Pathetic.”
Conall’s condemnation turned a few heads in their direction, and Crow could hear them ridiculing his father. His tiny fists clenched in anger, but he remained quiet because his father didn’t bother with them.
“Little Crow…” Conall sighed. “The Druids might love nature, but the Draoidh studied the natural order or the nature of all things. It is a big difference. In the future, study the Ecology of Mana. Or just study ecology. I will not insist on your area of study as a Bard. Still, if you were to put your Sage’s Mind toward studying ecology, you might bring our people back to their former glory.”
“But papa, what is ecology?”
“Officially, it is the relationship between all living things and their environment. I think of it as nature’s balance—the precarious scale that prevents calamity.”
“I don’t understand.” Crow shook his head.
“Ecology of Mana… what happens if there is no more Fire Mana?”
“Chaos?”
“That’s an excellent way of putting it. In nature, what happens if there are no more insects?”
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“We all live happily!” Crow clapped, but his papa laughed and shook his head.
“Wrong. First, the smaller creatures that feed off them starve and look for other food sources, which disrupts other creatures. If they can’t find food, they die. Maybe wolves fed on those small creatures, which kept them out of human cities. Now that their food source is gone, they must find new prey or die. Do you understand?”
“No.” Crow didn’t understand but felt the profound nature of the conversation. An instinct whispered to him that this understanding was something he’d spend a lifetime trying to understand. It didn’t discourage him but ignited a desire inside him—a thirst for knowledge.
“Then I’ll just say this. One slight change can disrupt an entire ecological system and cause chaos while power readjusts and order reasserts itself. The same concepts can apply to anything, which is why I emphasize your foundations repeatedly.”
Crow gained a bit of insight. “If my home depends on a single food source, it all collapses if someone takes that source away.”
Even though Conall was rushing to get to the House of Danu, he stopped and stared at his son. The boy’s comment didn’t seem all that important on the surface. However, a four-year-old grasped the concept of ecology and summarized it with a single statement from his insights.
“Papa? What did you mean about the Bards?”
“A Bard’s greatest quest is to pursue an area of study until they expose its Truth. These Truths are the fundamental laws that hold up the Heavens. It is important to discover your path and register it with the council.”
“Why? Can’t I study all things?
“Resources. Once you register a path, the council must grant you access to anything related to that topic. Your duty is to provide our people with the knowledge you’ve gleaned. This sacred tradition predates the current Druid Order, one you should never neglect.”
“Papa, let’s go,” Crow said, feeling his tummy rumble and wanting to stop talking.
“You getting bored?”
“I’m getting hungry and maybe bored,” Crow said.
“These are things you should know, brat. Did you enjoy learning to use your bow from uncle Barnes?”
“Yes! Can he visit again?”
“He is a Bard, and when he travels outside our continent, they know him as Endless Rain. Do you know what his path is?”
“No…?”
“He studies all things related to archery. That includes bows, arrows, flight, trajectory, materials, and crafting. Finding a path isn’t boring if you choose well; it’ll augment your cultivation.”
Crow understood what his father meant but was still a boy, easily distracted by a city filled with unusual things he hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t an unwillingness to learn, but his curious nature would prefer exploring right now.
“What is that?” Crow pointed to the other side of his father.
An open-air location with a small fence stood out among the surrounding buildings. It used hedge walls to partition off areas to provide some privacy to people sitting at tables ladened with food. The maze-like sections and floating lanterns gave it a mystical appearance. Patrons were eating, talking, and laughing. Each of them had looks of excitement and pleasure at the experience.
“That place is Night Sky Restaurant. Most restaurants under Father Oak are like that. Unlike the mercantile stores, they don’t have many wares. They can serve their guests under the sky.”
“But there’s no night sky here, papa. That’s a silly name.”
Conall chuckled and ruffled his kid’s hair.
“See those buildings?” Conall pointed to a few wooden structures. “That is part of Father Oak. Mugna formed most of these buildings using his massive root system. Those—the buildings built like minor fortresses—are used to protect wares, but they have another important role. They are civilian shelters if invaders break into our city.”
“He made all these?” Crow’s awed voice caused Conall to grin.
“Nope, but he could have. Those buildings made of stone and wooden planks were handmade using resources from other parts of the continent. However, most of the plants and trees stem from his roots. Normal plants can’t survive in this sunlight-deprived area. Look over there—” Conall pointed towards a nearby grand plaza lined with over a dozen tall wooden structures. Some appeared to be one solid smooth surface, but others had intricately twisted wood of various colors woven together.
“How do they weave it?” Crow asked breathlessly, trying to take it all in. His eyes were nearly bigger than his head.
“All things contain Origin energy. Father Oak has it in abundance, and Mugna, or the Druid Council, with Mugna’s permission, can shape the wood.”
“Papa is talking about mana?”
“Nope, Origin. Mana is tamed origin power, or maybe diluted is a better word for it.”
“What’s d-diluted mean?”
“Like tea, the flavor is weaker if you add more water. Mana is Origin energy watered down by elemental affinities. It makes it so our bodies can withstand it. Our Source, if awakened, reverses the process and attempts to purify mana back into Origin energy. Cultivating takes time and dedication to do it right, and those with weak willpower never climb high.”
“Is Origin energy the only energy?”
“It is the root of all energy. Our Souls, at their purest, are also made of Origin energy, which is important. A Truth exists that states energy cannot be destroyed, only changed.”
“So our Souls can’t be destroyed?”
“Correct, but it can be changed—corrupted. However, even corruption is just dirty Origin energy. Our Source is our Soul—or at least, so intertwined that there isn’t much difference. Anyway, we use mana to temper the Soul Trinity, which consists of Mind, Body, and Spirit. Mana is the dirty Origin energy we can safely consume, and cultivation is how we strengthen our Souls to absorb higher purity mana with the end goal of being able to use Origin energy without it destroying us. While we call it mana, people on the eastern continent call it Qi, but they use it mostly for body refining to improve their martial ability. The shamans on one of the central continents call it Spirit—many dominant races call it Spirit or Soul energy. They also further classify it—”
“Boring,” Crow grumbled. He’d heard his papa explain this a hundred times. The Source cultivates energy. Those that harness it label that energy differently—mana, Qi, Spirit, Soul, Hex, and maybe a hundred more known or unknown variations. They used these determinations in Technique and Ability manuals, which helped identify where the skill originated. “Why do we call it mana?”
“Well… I don’t want to bore you?” Conall said with a grin.
“Papa!”
“I’ll give you the short version. Druids have been around for a long time, but we spent thousands of years hiding because of an old enmity. Only nine clans survived that calamity. Danu and Mugna settled us on this continent, which we called Darach, and we are Darachians. In the old language, Darach means oak, and so we became the Darachians, Druids of the Oak— ”
“Papa, that isn’t mana.”
“I’m getting there, you impatient brat! For Druids, losing our history is a heavy blow, and we lost a lot during that time. You’ll find many texts end at a certain point in time, which is when we arrived here. Mana was something the Darachians used. It is unknown if it was initially a Druid word or not. Because we study the natural world, seeking its Truths, mana is a suitable word—it means supernatural power. Now that we openly walk the earth as Druids once more, our secret term for Druids of the Oak is out of favor. However, this continent will always be called Darach.”
Crow didn’t understand, not really, but he remembered every word his father spoke. He rarely interacted with other kids, so he didn’t know that his ability to remember everything was rare. Despite the seemingly leisurely tour, papa was moving quickly towards a destination, and soon a growing crowd ended their conversation.
He had once asked his papa why Father Oak didn’t stop bad things from happening in Oiche, and it was something Crow pondered still. His father said that fate and karma existed in this world, and the gods had to be careful not to intervene too much, or they’d receive a backlash—usually as a calamity. Father Oak wouldn’t involve itself in petty world affairs, and he enforced only one rule—no killing under his canopy. He’d react instantly by striking down anyone that broke that rule. Papa told him it was because their blood essence would seep into the soil when a person died, which contaminated his roots.
“Sweet Onion,” Crow muttered after seeing the store sign ahead of them. He’d learned to read about six months ago, which was only possible because of his Sage’s Mind.
He’d heard the name of this place from his father; it was one of the Maddox clan’s primary sources of income. The bottom floor was a grocery mart that sold rare and hard-to-find ingredients. It even stockpiled a lot of lesser plants and herbs in some warehouses in the outer city.
The second floor sold books, techniques, and resources for cultivators. The third, fourth, and fifth floors were by invitation only, and they sold unique goods that didn’t exist anywhere else in Oiche. Not only that, they bought oddities, things that had no history but contained enough mystery that they weren’t simple items.
The sixth floor was clan only, but no one—not even papa—knew what was on that floor.
The store got its name because its success came from selling sweet onions—but not your typical garden variety. Maddox clan’s ancestral grounds were in the heart of a forest, and they’d found wild sweet onions growing there. Because those onions contained a high concentration of mana, it later became a key ingredient used in a pill that could assist people that had just awakened their Source. Its high price was because demand was much higher than supply. Maddox clan could only produce so many onions every year.
Seeing the store up close reminded Crow of a castle’s tower. He was further sold on the idea when he saw another tower not far down the road with a wall connecting the two. There was even a closed gate in the center of the wall.
The crowd gathered around the other tower.
Conall picked Crow up and spoke into the boy’s ear. “Our clan’s manor is beyond that wall. On the other side are several lodges, private courtyards, and one enormous courtyard which spans the back wall along the barrier.”
“Barrier?” Crow asked with his face all scrunched up. He could see a forest behind the manor, but he wasn’t sure if that reached the massive trunk of Father Oak. It didn’t matter how often he saw the enormous oak—it always inspired awe.
“It’s a formation—you’ll learn about them in time. That barrier is so powerful that not even a hundred of me could destroy it. That forest is also part of Father Oak, and it is the only reason they can grow in this land of darkness. We call that area the Sacred Grove, of which there are two—east and west. In the South, the Temple of the False Dawn, sometimes called the Temple of Mugna, divides the two groves with a wide tunnel. The reason is the tunnel leads to this continent’s Keystone—you know it as the Portal of Ascension. They crafted the tunnel from Father Oak’s root, which means everyone coming or going must go through the temple. North is the Heavenly Bard Amphitheater—built into Father Oak’s trunk with enough seating to hold hundreds of thousands of people.”
“What is an amp-am-ampa—what is that?”
Conall chuckled as he listened to his son stumble over the word. The boy’s tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth as he concentrated on thinking before trying the word again.
“Amphitheater?” Crow asked hesitantly, keeping his tongue from twisting the word once more.
“It’s like in our clan, where the elders speak. It has a central area or stage, with seating surrounding it. Only this one is a living theater and is always available to anyone that has opened their Source. For a Druid with an affinity towards the wood element, it is one of the best places for them to cultivate.”
“What is that place?” Crow asked, pointing to the place where the crowd gathered.
“We call it the House of Danu, a place of healing. Your uncle manages it, and it is where he can practice his Medik craft. Between Luthais and Song Lin, they produce some miraculous healing. Even the healers they’ve trained are exceptional, but with success comes jealousy and greed, and they’ve certainly gained enough attention. It has had its troubles, mostly because of Song Lin.”
“Aunt Lin? No. No. No. She’s too nice. No one would hurt her.”
“No one will. Lin’er is an eastern Alchemist, so they fear her. It is why they call her a demon or witch, and those small-minded people refuse her aid and find trouble with our healing house. I need to settle this,” Conall told his boy, but in reality, most of the clowns causing trouble wouldn’t dare push it too far. It is why he didn’t rush over immediately.
“Is papa strong?”
Conall sighed. He put his son down, who had recently taken on more of his mother’s features. In his heart, he wanted to tell his boy no; he wasn’t strong. Tell him he lacked enough power to prevent his wife from getting snatched. But outside Tur Briste, they considered his Topaz Shield strong enough to dominate a country or even an entire continent.