Cadence was unsurprised to see Storyteller lounging casually in front of her cottage when she returned from running her circuit around the village. Even with Brian helping her find a couple of the hunters, finding all dozen of them had taken well over two hours, and the amount of running she had done had pushed the limits of even her new stamina boost. By the time she made it home, she was coated in a sheen of sweat, short of breath, and had dropped to a staggering walk.
Storyteller made an amused noise when he saw her, his muddy brown eyes tracking her movements. “Overdid it with your stamina boost?” he guessed.
Cadence beamed. “Maybe a little bit,” she admitted. “But I didn’t even need to use Soul Surge!”
Both of Storyteller’s eyebrows went up. “Really? Good for you. I think my first day with the echo, I used Surge so much I passed out.”
Cadence laughed. “Well, I guess I just have better judgment than you.”
“Elder forbid,” Ryme observed dryly as she stepped outside to join the two. “What are you two talking about?”
“Cadence managed to keep herself from running until her stamina gave out. I wasn’t so bright when I was her age,” Storyteller lied effortlessly.
Ryme looked from the enigmatic man to the surprised look on Cadence’s face, but after a moment seemed to decide against prying. “Did you find everyone?” she asked Cadence instead.
“Mhm!”
A little smirk appeared on Ryme’s face when she added, “Even Brian?”
Cadence flushed instantly, and she mumbled, “Yes mom, even Brian.”
Storyteller turned his face to the wind, his eyes closed, allowing mother and daughter to enjoy their good-hearted bickering for a few moments. He knew such moments would be rare enough for them soon enough, and he suspected that at the very least, Ryme did too.
Only once the conversation had wound down did Storyteller turn to Ryme. “Mistress Ryme, would you permit me a possibly rude question?”
Ryme sighed, but Cadence knew the sound was good-natured. “I don’t see how that’s stopped you before. But please, stop with the whole Mistress thing.”
Storyteller frowned. “Are you not the leader of this village?”
“We don’t have leaders in Felisen,” Ryme replied sharply. “We take care of our own, that’s all that matters.”
Storyteller tilted his head briefly in a gesture that was not quite agreement. “But still. When the hunters go out, you are the one who leads, yes?”
“Well-”
“And when people need help, you’re the one they come to?”
“Sometimes-”
“And when you speak, people listen, right?”
Ryme sighed. “That doesn’t mean I’m in charge or anything like that.”
Storyteller made the same motion of polite disagreement. “People need someone to follow, Mistress Ryme. Whether it’s official or not, you lead these people, and you do it well.”
Ryme sighed. “You’re a difficult man to argue with, Storyteller.”
A fleeting smile danced across the man’s features. “I’ve been told that before. But my point is, if you lead, why haven’t you crossed to Adept level? I can feel that you’ve reached Initiate on both of your gifts, but you haven’t even taken a third.”
Ryme look distinctly uncomfortable at the question, and she absently reached one arm across her chest to grab the other. It was a gesture of insecurity Cadence had never seen from her mother before, and it exposed the brand on the back of Ryme’s shoulder, the clawmark and bow peeking out of the edge of her vest. “There’s no point,” Ryme finally answered simply. “My gift of the bear will never reach Adept, so I never bothered to try to find a third gift.”
“I don’t get it,” Cadence interrupted, drawing looks from both of the older gift bearers. “I know you get a third gift eventually, but how does it happen?”
“You only have two gift slots to start. Once you make it to Initiate level with both of those gifts, your third slot opens up.”
“And then that new gift needs to get all the way to Initiate before you can reach Adept,” Storyteller added. “Which is why I’m surprised you haven’t taken one on, Mistress Ryme. Even if you’re waiting on an Adept totem, you could’ve gotten a new gift most of the way to Initiate by now.”
Ryme shook her head. “You’re not from a village, are you Storyteller?”
He considered for a moment, then shook his head. “I’ve spent a fair amount of time around them, but no, I was born in one of the bastion cities.”
“I thought so.” The words could’ve come out edged, but instead they were just… tired. “We found an Adept totem, a few years back. Fish too, not even a popular one. The beast killed two hunters before we took it down, and the totem provided the village enough money to take care of both families. The rest of it, we saved, and it provided for the village after a couple bramble-spawn tore up one of the fields.
Cadence blinked in surprise. “Really? Are Adept totems that valuable?”
Storyteller nodded in confirmation. “Adept relics in general are rare, regardless of their source. I’m sure some sailor out in Westerlen was more than happy to pay for a totem like that.”
Ryme hummed a soft agreement. “That was when I stopped trying to level up,” she explained. “Even if a bear capable of dropping an Adept totem spawned, how could I justify taking a totem like that, when it could feed the entire village for half a year?”
Storyteller’s eyes were serious. Cadence wasn’t even surprised to note that they were that icy blue color again, the way they seemed to get when he was at his most focused. “That’s a selfless choice, Mistress Ryme,” he told her. “But you’re wrong. That’s what I have to tell you and the other hunters. That monster I killed in the barrens will not be the last of its kind to emerge from that place. At the end of the day, there is no substitute for simple power. Very soon, an Adept may be the difference between life and death for this village.”
#
Cadence paced back and forth in the little cottage, alternately fretting at her hair, chewing her bottom lip, and trying to distract herself by using her new wanderer abilities to examine things in the room.
That couldn’t be true, could it? More ogres like the one Storyteller had killed attacking Felisen? Her mother being the only one who might stand between life and death for the village? Cadence desperately wanted to know more, but of course, only shortly after that conversation, she had been shooed away as noon approached. Now all the hunters were up on the hill, getting the story straight from Storyteller, and she was stuck in the house!
Her mother had even told her that she couldn’t go out on a hike or a run. She needed to stay close, so they could talk after the hunter meeting. But that was over an hour ago! Idly, Cadence picked up a bunch of glintcaps from one of the herb jars, and focused her Wanderer’s Knowledge on it. The response was instant.
[Wanderer’s Knowledge] activated
Glintcap - Lesser reagent - Mushrooms infused with life aspected magic, provides healing aligned with resilience attribute.
She had examined a dozen items around the cottage while she waited, but it was quickly losing its allure. Worse, this time, as she read the description, her head twinged with discomfort. It was like a sudden headache, like the kind she got when she stayed up too late reading by candlelight. With a groan, she laid back on her pallet and draped an arm over her eyes. The description of the ability she had been using floated across her vision, despite her eyes being closed and covered.
[Wanderer’s Knowledge] - Active, Utility - Learn rudimentary knowledge about any single target. May not work on exceptional or rare targets. Minor focus cost per use.
She remembered that Wanderer’s Knowledge was supposed to have a minor focus cost. Was this what it was like to overuse her focus? This sucked!
“Why are all my powers terrible?” she groaned to herself. Her most usable power barely gave her any useful information, and it left her with a headache that was growing worse by the second.
But not all of her powers sucked, right? She had barely tried to use her new echo abilities yet. And if she could boost any of her attributes…
[Soul Surge] - Active, Buff - Increase one attribute by five points. Lesser duration, moderate stamina and focus cost incurred when buff expires.
Cadence managed a feeble grin through her pounding head, and reached for her Soul Surge power. “Soul Surge… focus?” she asked the air, unsure of how to use the power.
#
When Cadence and Storyteller returned from their meeting, they found Cadence collapsed on the floor, groaning in pain and barely able to wiggle her leaden limbs.
They traded a look, and Ryme rolled her eyes. “Overused your stamina?” she asked in that rhetorical way only mothers and school teachers seemed capable of.
“Ow,” Cadence replied from the floor.
“Focus too, I’d bet,” Storyteller noted, his own voice hinting at laughter as he crouched down to examine the incapacitated girl.
“Urg,” Cadence answered, exercising every ounce of intelligence currently available to her.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“I assume this is a side effect from whatever secret gift you two have been avoiding telling me about?” Ryme said, her tone making her own lack of amusement clear.
Storyteller’s head shot up, his face guilty, and she rolled her eyes again.
“I’m an Initiate, Storyteller. That doesn’t make me an idiot.”
He ducked his head respectively, and looked back at Cadence. “I’m tempted to leave you like this, you know.”
“It is the best way to learn your lesson,” Ryme offered in support.
Cadence didn’t manage any noises, but tried her hardest to exude the desperate desire to be put out of her misery.
“Unfortunately, we need to talk, so I’m going to spare you from the repercussions of your own actions.” Storyteller reached into the voluminous, tattered cloak he seemed to wear perpetually, even inside, and pulled out a small vial. “Lesser restoration potion,” he explained to Ryme. With a callous movement, he grabbed one of Cadence’s arms and pulled. The same strength he had shown in the barrens made it simple to flip the girl over onto her back. “It’s going to restore your stamina and focus. This time at least. Next time, I might charge you.” He winked at Ryme, his playful expression at odds with his serious words. Not that Cadence could open her eyes enough to see.
Storyteller unceremoniously flipped the cork out of the little vial and poured it down the girl’s throat, then stood up.
For Cadence, her world was one of absolute misery. As she had hoped, boosting her focus with Soul Surge had, indeed, cured the headache she had caused by overusing her Wanderer’s Knowledge ability. But only after she had received the boost, suddenly pushing her reasoning abilities and logic far above their norm, did she realize the mistake she had made. Soul Surge carried its own cost, to both stamina and focus, but it delayed that cost until the boost wore off. Her improved mind saw how effective the ability’s structure was, allowing her to make use of it in a dangerous encounter and suffer the repercussions later. But it had been the wrong tool for this job.
She quickly came to the conclusion that when the boost wore off, the headache she’d delayed with it would be that much worse for the cost of the second ability, and it would be combined with exhausting effects of draining her own stamina. She had tried using glintcaps, but her examination combined with her strengthened logic quickly figured out that the mushroom’s healing magic, noted to be based on the resilience attribute, would be better at curing wounds and diseases than restoring physical or mental energy. Instead, she had gone to her mother’s herb collection, looking for anything that would help restore her stamina and focus, in the hopes that she could brew a tea that would help her before her surge ran out.
She made it through about six jars of herbs before her focus dropped, and her body went with it.
Storyteller’s potion finally broke through the pain and exhaustion. Over the next few minutes, the pounding of her migraine receded to a minor soreness behind her eyes, and suddenly breathing didn’t feel quite so hard. Her arms and legs, which had previously felt like they had been coated in iron, slowly relaxed and became easier to move. It took about five minutes for the potion to fully do its work, by the end of which Cadence was sprawled on the floor, reveling in the euphoric rush of the pain ending.
Then her mother’s boot dug into her side, right under her ribs, and she sat up with a sharp yelp of surprise. “Moooom!” she whined, rubbing at the soreness.
“You’ll live,” Ryme said carelessly. “Now get up, and tell me what idiotic gift Storyteller talked you into.”
Cadence winced, while Storyteller looked away from the duo awkwardly. She didn’t think he was the kind of man that got embarrassed easily, but Ryme catching them hiding the gift of the echo from her seemed to have done the trick.
Cadence climbed to her feet, crossing her arms in a gesture of discomfort she didn’t realize she had inherited from her mother. “Well… I saw him last night, when I went for that walk. And we were talking and he offered to give me this gift…”
“A relic gift?” Ryme interrupted, glaring daggers at Storyteller. “I told you that you shouldn’t take a relic gift, Cadence! Do you want to end up capped, like me?”
“It’s not a relic gift,” Storyteller explained, his voice gentle.
“Then how exactly did you gift her?” Ryme demanded. “Unless you’re actually an archetype, the embodiment of bad decisions and poorly answered questions, I don’t see how else you could manage it!”
Storyteller mused for a moment before responding. “The vast majority of gifts,” he finally said, “fall into those two general categories, yes. Archetype gifts, granted by one of the Divine Archetypes based on accomplishing some feat or trial that aligns your soul with them; and relic gifts, granted by items of sufficient magical density, that need to be materially upgraded with every level. But there is a third type, one rare enough that it’s rarely discussed.
“I’ve heard them called mythic gifts. There are only a bare handful of scholars in the Realm that have made a study of them, and I’ve only heard of less than half a dozen individuals alive who have one. Mine is called the gift of the echo. An inherent trait to these mythic gifts, as I understand it, is that they allow those who reach a certain level with them to pass them onto others.” He paused, regarding Cadence with a hopeful gaze. “That’s what I did with your daughter–I used the gift of the echo in my soul to carve the same gift into her.”
Ryme looked from Storyteller to Cadence, frustration and anxiety warring on her face, and seemed conflicted about what to ask next. But concern for her daughter won out. “Then… she won’t get capped like me?”
“No,” Storyteller said simply. “Mythic gifts can be difficult to level up, but they have more in common with archetype gifts than relic gifts.”
Ryme seemed to relax slightly at that news, and she exhaled slowly. Cadence took the opportunity to ask, “Where did you get your gift then, Storyteller?”
Storyteller’s soft smile didn’t change, but it somehow became more… brittle. Like a mask made of glass, rather than a genuine expression. His icy blue eyes only enhanced the perception. “Some things I can’t share, Cadence.”
Ryme and Cadence shared a look with each other, and decided not to press the issue. With his odd, often inattentive, demeanor and casual attitude, it was easy to forget that neither of them were sure just how powerful Storyteller actually was.
The frozen moment slowly thawed, the tension leaving Storyteller bit by bit. “But this brings us to our main topic, Mistress Ryme.” His voice was once again mellow, his manner friendly and his eyes the brown of fertile soil.
“You want to take Cadence with you when you leave,” Ryme said, having already guessed at the situation.
Cadence’s back straightened, anxiety suddenly coursing through her, while Storyteller nodded solemnly. “That’s correct,” he said. “Neither of Cadence’s gifts are likely to grow very much while she’s here.”
Ryme chewed on her lip, her gaze focused on the stiff, anxious form of her daughter. “I always knew that might happen one day,” she admitted, her voice quiet. “But not yet.” The last word came out with some fire to them.
“Mom…” Cadence started.
“Actually,” Storyteller told her, “I agree on that front.”
Cadence looked up in surprise. “R-really?”
“If we simply walked away right now, you’d spend your life looking back. You’d probably end up turning around in less than a year, to say nothing of the guilt I’d feel dragging you away from your home like that. You need time before you’ll be ready. Fortunately, as I was telling your mother and the other hunters earlier, I plan on staying here for some time. At least a month. I expect, by then, you’ll have more firmly made your mind up, one way or the other. Agreed?”
Storyteller looked from Ryme to Cadence, both of whom slowly nodded, and the last of the remaining tension left the room. Cadence gave her mother a shy smile, and Ryme’s maternal worry slowly bloomed into a loving look in return. “I think that’s much better,” Ryme said.
Cadence nodded a little, rubbing at the brand tattooed on her arm. “I… yeah. Yeah, that sounds perfect.”
“Good,” Storyteller said. “As I promised, Mistress Ryme, I will do what I can to facilitate some trials in that time, and see if we can’t get any more of your people up to Initiate.”
“Wait.” Cadence said, her brain jogging into motion again. “You can do trials? Like, for other archetypes?”
Storyteller nodded. “Correct. I’m both an armsmaster of the Warrior and proctor of the Mage. If a big enough storm blows through, I might even be able to lead some Primal trials.”
Cadence’s eyes went wide, thinking of the lightning bolt he had used to finish the ogre–then dimmed, as she remembered that she already had both of her gifts.
Storyteller chuckled, reading her expression. “While I’m doing that, Cadence, you can start training with the other hunters. If you’re really going to try to be an adventurer, we need to get you ready to fight.”
“But I don’t have combat gifts!” Cadence exclaimed.
Storyteller gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Neither do I,” he said. “My most offensive blessing is my Primal gift of lightning–which I can get, at best, two or three strong attacks out of. Other than that, I have the same wanderer and echo gifts as you Cadence, and the gift of the artificer.”
Ryme blinked in surprise, clearly disconcerted, but Cadence didn’t notice.
“But... but… that sword! I watched you fight the ogre! You were incredible!”
“All practice,” he said simply. “And… perhaps a few other tricks you’ll pick up one day. But first and foremost, you need training. And I’m sure your mother and her companions will be happy to provide it.” The words provoked an immediate look of trepidation across Cadence’s face. “And when I’m not working with the hunters, I’ll help you train with the gift of the echo, getting you used to some of its more unique elements.”
Ryme made a soft sound of interest. “What are these ‘unique elements’ of yours anyways?” she asked. “I’m still not sure what this echo gift does.”
“It’s a flexible power,” Cadence answered. Without meaning to, she lifted her hand to look at the interwoven brands on her wrist–so she didn’t see the look of surprise her next words drew from Storyteller. “I think it’s meant to be used with others. It lets me copy gift abilities from other people, and lets me boost my attributes. I… I could be a melee fighter one moment, then a ranged combatant, or even a healer, the next, if I use my powers right. Right?” She directed the last question at Storyteller, who lifted a hand to rub away the shock that was clear on his face.
He cleared his throat a little, and replied, “More or less correct.”
“Quite the gift,” Ryme said thoughtfully. “Then you’d need practice using all sorts of different abilities. And how does that boost work?”
“It’s a major boost, to one attribute. But when it wears off…” Cadence trailed off in embarrassment.
Ryme nodded and finished the sentence for her. “You pay a price in stamina and focus. So it can help you finish a fight, but can’t carry you through.”
“Not at Novice level at least,” Storyteller admitted.
“Well good,” Ryme decided, giving Cadence a firm nod. “Training with the others will be just the thing for you. You can practice copying their powers, and using different boosts. If you don’t get used to the boosts, having a sudden burst of strength or speed could hurt more than help.”
“Really?” Cadence asked in surprise.
“Of course. It’s something a lot of relic gift bearers have a problem with. Take my strength boost. It makes me incredibly strong, but it doesn’t come with the stamina or resilience that a more balanced gift would give. I might be stronger than someone like Denning, who has a Warrior gift, but he can outlast me in a one on one fight easily. You’ll have the same problem, but with whatever you boost. Speed without coordination will just send you flying the first time you hit a rock in the road.”
Storyteller looked as impressed with Ryme as Cadence. “That is all correct,” he said, his voice just as surprised. “You have a good eye for this sort of thing, Mistress Ryme. But how will you explain it to the village?”
Mother and daughter both gave Storyteller a confused look. “By… telling them about the gift?” Cadence answered, baffled about the question.
Storyteller frowned. “I see. It’s just… hmm.” Storyteller looked pensive for another moment, before asking, “Could you at least claim you got it from an obscure archetype or something? I’d rather not spend the next few months with people asking me to give them the same gift.”
“Could you?” Cadence asked. “You know, if they asked?”
Storyteller shook his head. “No. In some ways, it’s like making an ensouled item–I had to give up a little bit of my soul to do it, and it will be some time before I’m able to do it again, if ever.”
“I assumed there was some limit, or there would be many more of these gifts running around,” Ryme said. “Very well, Storyteller. Anything else for today?”
Storyteller considered, then shook his head.
“Good. Cadence, I’m going to get supper started. Denning was supposed to see to lodgings for our guest–would you mind showing him the way to the Honeyed Pear?”
“Of course not!”
“Good. And do try to come home this time,” Ryme chided her gently. “Preferably without some new mysterious gift from a stranger.”
Cadence giggled and nodded her agreement. She was happier than she could ever remember being. She had her unique and fascinating gifts. She had her mother’s approval. She had a mentor, a route forward, and time enough to say her goodbyes properly.
For once, she could see her future. And it looked like a road, winding towards a distant and magical horizon.