I awoke in Areswood Forest, using magic with my gnarled, rooty hands to prune a bush. My cuts were so smooth. Deliberate. Elegant. I could feel the plant within my body, and with every snip, I was relieved by stress as if I personally were undergoing acupuncture or a massage.

I couldn’t just feel the bush. It could feel the forest. I felt its soul, pulse, and life within me.

Not everyone could feel this. There was a man laughing on a log beside me, clearly oblivious to these sensations.

“What are you laughing about this time?” I asked in Brindle’s familiar, ghostly voice.

“I just can’t get over it,” the man said.

I moved to another branch. Snip.

“If people knew the mighty Brindle just gardened the forest all day,” he said, “how would they react?”

I sighed and examined the bush. The whole plant highlighted, but not in the way that Mira’s Guide highlighted. It wasn’t like Mana or Soul Sight, either. It was something else. I could see the life in the plant and understand where there were blemishes.

With a wave of my hand, a thousand blades of aura shot up the bush, clipping a thousand small stems simultaneously. The leaves and moss slowly drifted to the ground in clumps.

“Ah, come on, guy,” the man said. “I wasn’t making fun of you.”

I turned and saw a blonde archer sitting on a rotting log, whittling a wooden statue of a tiny human with wings. He had a simple wooden bow beside him that looked handmade—and his voice sounded familiar.

Yakana… I thought. Then, I said:

“I am what they believe; that’s why they fear me.” I stood and noticed a tree lacking nutrients. I scanned the area for a suitable location that I could relocate it to. Once I found one, I put my palm on the bark, cycling my soul core to find a soul. And for the first time, I realized that the sensation of having a random soul in my core was no different than having Kira within me.

They were one and the same.

I then began to chant to perform this magic, and Mira’s mind chanted with me. The magic synced with the memory, and the sensations felt real instead of dream-like—I could feel magic flow through this tree—searching out its nearan veins.

This tree wasn’t a soul tree—but all living things have the ability to have a soul, and what a plant lacked, one could create.

I pulled out a soul from my body, copied its nearan structure as if it were a lump of meat, and then imprinted that same structure into a tree, carving new gateways as I inserted the soul.

Another chant and the tree groaned, and the ground shook.

“Ah, come on, man,” Yakana said as he got up hastily, staring at his statue. “I chipped it. Do you really need to move trees?”

The tree was indeed moving. Its roots were like an octopus as it pulled its way out of the ground.

“I do,” I said. “If you do not like it, you are welcome to leave.”

I put my hand on the ground, and all the plants between the tree and its new location lit up with aura, protecting them as the tree walked over them. The dirt shifted, rocks moved, and the whole place became a jumbled mess, but the plants and their roots remained intact without the slightest harm as the tree resettled into its new location.

Brindle then used a spell on the ground, and nutrients were distributed to the ideal placement for the plants. Not only had he moved the plants—but he also helped them grow.

I understood then the secret of plantmancy. If I were to attempt to use the plants as vines to trap feet or spew poison, it would naturally destroy them. But by protecting the plants, I could do with them what I wished. They would just settle back into the ground where I could distribute resources and help them grow again. And right then, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. I felt its purpose, meaning, and the way that it was meant to be used.

Mira was learning this remarkably fast as well, as she was under the effects of the Helix of Annihilation, which was syncing with my mind, body, and soul.

She was learning soulmancy—actually learning it—in real time.

“Oh, please,” Yakana said after I told him he could leave. “It’s been, what? Twenty millennia? Thirty? You’d be devastated if I left.”

I paused. “Perhaps so.”

“See? People need each other. And you’re ‘people’ enough. Now, come on. Fix what you wrought.”

Yakana presented his wooden statue and showed me the chip in the wing. I took it, sliced a nick off a tree, and grafted it onto the wing flawlessly before aging the wood to match the color.

“Thank~you,” Yakana said with delight. “See this? This’s why I keep you around.”

“Why you keep me around?” I said with a dark chuckle. Yet there was a bit of warmth.

“You heard me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Come on. It’s time.”

Yakana and I traveled to the Bramble, the deep part beyond the wyverns, and Brindle began planting seeds. Mira could feel the way I connected to the plants in the forest, attuning myself to their spirits without contracts—moving plants with soulmancy and resettling them. Mira heard the way I spoke to them—showcasing not love but basic respect. Despite Yakana being a human, he did the same—as if it were natural to him as well.

Yakana also knew soulmancy and tended to the forest, hedging plants and planting new seeds.

We removed dead plants and remediated burned swaths, bathing the land with life in areas that had grown dim.

Through it all, I chanted, allowing Mira to learn the magic I used. She saw the Bramble from the inside, the vines twisting, the bushes shooting poison—the mushrooms releasing spores. She learned my spore mediation and filtering techniques as I walked around.

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I walked for ten years in a time-lapse, showing Mira how we rebuilt the Bramble and watched it grow stronger than before. Once we finished, we said goodbye to Halten, the great wyvern guardian who Mira saw in a pathetic state, and then traveled through The Briar to meet Escala—the Dryad who gave Mira her seed.

The large, spiny trees in The Briar retracted as I approached Escala.

“Is it time for you to leave?” Escala said as she spun to life. When I got close, she touched my face with her beautiful hands.

“It is,” he said.

“Then take this.” She gave me her seed, just as she did Mira, and that was the end of the exchange.

“You could’ve at least said goodbye,” Yakana said as we walked away. “I get that you’re a grumpster, but even Dryads have emotions.”

“Do they?” I asked.

“They do.”

“Like humans?”

“Eh… like halfway there? I mean, you’re all heartless freaks compared to the rest of us irrational monkeys, but she was clearly sad you were leaving.”

“Is that so…” I turned and closed my eyes. The entire forest pulsed with warm energy that came from his chest, and when I finished, Yakana grinned.

“Now that’s how it’s done,” he said.

“Was it really that big of a deal?” I asked.

“Yeah, Brind. It’s the small things that make the most difference.”

The two disappeared, moving to what was now Misty Row. It was a wasteland back then, a natural Bramble even before my influence.

“How long’s it gonna be this time?” Yakana asked.

“Until it’s done.”

“Two ten millennia if I’m lucky,” Yakana said wearily. At least let me eat first.

I rolled my eyes. There was no time for a true defense; it would take a few centuries at most. But Yakana still teased him and ran off as I planted new seeds and provided them nourishment, energy, and protection. I could feel the seeds growing within the shells the moment they were planted.

I then dug up miles and miles of land, changing the soil composition for growth, and ventured into the forest to get seeds from the deadliest plants, organizing them, shaping them—helping them grow. This process went on for weeks, months, and then years, and soon, there were plants everywhere, and we continued pruning and shifting until it was done. Once I finished two centuries later, I summoned the Drokai with a call.

To Mira’s surprise, one she recognized appeared.

Reta.

It was actually Reta.

Mira didn’t know how old Reta was, but unless this was her mother, this was her. But this Reta wasn’t sleepy. She was prime and awake.

“This place’s awful,” Reta said. “So, what do you need me for?”

“To make it worse,” I said. “I want you to teach greater illusions to the walkas.”

Her eyes narrowed. “For what reason?”

“So I can take their souls and confine them to this place.”

“That’s twisted.”

“That’s the point.”

“It’s sick… but I’ll do it.” She looked south. “They’re coming. I can feel it.”

I nodded. “They are.”

Later that day, I walked through the forest, experiencing illusions from the walkas, monkey-like humanoids that used illusions to confuse and trap their prey. They had raw trickery, lacking finesse, but equally horrifying, capturing voices and screamings but being unable to mimic speech. They were masters of sound and used magical mist and distortions to lead people into objects and then used the sensations to match illusions.

I used a stronger version of Wood Wide Web to find them and then brought vines and moss and plants alive, wrapping them around the beasts’ legs—confining them in capture before bringing them back.

Mira found the rest a horrible experience worthy of grim A Clockwork Orange. I tied the creatures up as Reta taught them how to speak and mimic emotions. Years later, she set them loose, allowing them to return to their brethren and teach them what they learned. Then, we waited for years for these teachings to reach the new generation, and sure enough, the Walka beasts were using intelligent illusions to gruesome effect.

“Are you ready?” Reta asked.

I nodded. “Let’s begin.”

I returned to the forest and slaughtered thousands of them, using soulmancy to confine their souls to the deadly plants in the bramble. Each plant was forcefully crafted into a reaper containing the souls of these terrifying beasts before Yakana, and I nodded and took to the forest. During this period, Yakana slaughtered thousands of beasts, tethering their souls to the river as an artificial fog.

From the beginning, Yakana spent the ears carving statues of his prior commanders and friends on the way to Aelium, immortalizing them. The first became Harlan's Pillar—the illusionary pillar that guides people to the Empyrean Steps that lead to Aelium.

The steps led to a world of giants and primordial beasts, so Yakana made the statues giants as he killed these beasts and chained their souls to the Brute River. This continued all the way till he reached Aelium—the Land of Reconciliation.

It was a world as beautiful as Serenflora, filled exclusively with mana and soul plants that radiated light. It extended for miles with gnarled trees, a perfect land for elves.

Unsurprisingly, it was the true home of the Drokai and another creature called Ragmonds, small, intelligent, bearish creatures with hands. They could walk and build but chose to walk on all fours with travel.

They had built a civilization within it.

I visited this place with Yakana before we split off to fight the invasion that had since started in the Fourth Ring between the Drokai and the invaders. Yakana and I had both evolved to a fourth evolution at that point and could no longer return to the Fourth Ring to help them, so we stayed in the fifth domain. I took a shortcut to the Sixth Ring north of Aelium, and Yakana moved down the steps and through Misty Row, taking up shelter in the Jacksa Delta, where he would later fight with Jacksmore the Little.

While he moved, I met with Erisa, the queen of the Drokai, in Aelium and planted Escala’s seed on Sakana, the beautiful golden tree in the center of Aelium. It was also the guardian of the forest, a treant of colossal caliber—terrifying to see come alive.

Due to my establishing Serenflora, helping the Drokai, and protecting the forest, I was welcomed with open arms.

“Where will you go?” asked Erisa when I tried to leave.

“To the Sixth Ring to create my final Bramble,” Brindle said.

“You are not strong enough,” she said.

“Then teach me.”

For the next two centuries, I fought fourth and fifth evolution beasts with her aid, working on my soulmancy. Since I was pushed to the edge, I used every spell I had, allowing Mira to learn all the tricks of my trade. She learned how to fuse beasts, alter minds, and corrupt souls. She learned how to connect roots and communicate with others through long-range telepathy. She learned how to create weapons of pure aura, deceive animals, and bring colossal omoxillians to life.

Mira had no hope of learning tens of thousands of years worth of magic at once, despite the powerful elixir attuning my soul to hers, but she soaked up more of it than she ever found possible. She wanted to keep learning this way forever—

—but the Jacksmore war was in full bloom by then.

Yakana used an arrow around that time to create Harrowed Pass and use corrupted souls from the Keliam River—where the crypt was—to attack Jacksmore the Little on the Jacksa Delta. The war was commencing, and time was running out. So I began work on the Crown of Thorns—my Sixth Ring bramble—and while Mira would never see it be used, she understood why the Jacksmore War ended. It was just that powerful.

Yet it came at a cost. I was too late to return and found that Yakana had wiped out most of Trantam the Great’s army—the successor to Jacksmore the Little. He did so, saving Aelium from a massive attack—but did so at the cost of his life.

For the first time in my life, I felt sadness—or what Yakana described to me as sadness—a deep sense of loss. And without even questioning my motives, I spent the fifty years following the war collecting as much of Yakana’s soul as I could find—

—and then, much later, fulfilled his wish to protect the forest in death.

—-------

I suddenly woke up as Mira, Mira Hill, not Brindle Grask, Mira Hill, Mira Isabella Hill, Mira girl-stuck-in-a-bathtub Hill, heart pumping, lungs gasping, listening to the sound of roaring and screeching again. Yet it didn’t come from the water. The water was still, and the souls on the surface were calm. I looked around and Kline wasn’t there.

I dunked my head to clear my mind, and Yakana said:

Concentrate,

What’s going on? I cried.

Nothing of your concern. Your friend has it covered.

Felio?

No. Your beast tamer. Now calm down and consolidate your gains before losing them. Repeat after me.

I didn’t trust Aiden with my or Felio’s life, but I did trust Yakana and Kline, so I lay and drifted off into another state of assimilation. I experienced no memories, only trained and trained and trained through mental simulations in my brain—leaving Aiden and Kline and the lurvine to deal with whatever was going on outside.