-Callen-

  I made my way up the increasingly familiar steps of Nightshade’s tower. So many visits, but the view from the top is one of my favorites. The tower almost blends in among the trees growing around it from an outside perspective, but for now at least it stands just slightly tall enough to look over the trees. The sprawling view of the town stretching out from the port with the distant Wither Tree that perfectly frames the sunrise. Sadly, this visit was timed right to see that.

  Sitting down and settling in, I adjust my senses to my bond with Nightshade. Her mood is ‘Fresh laid fertilizer gently mixed into the soil’. I struggle to interpret it briefly but eventually come to the assumption of my recent level gains being positively received. The room smells nice compared to the devastation left after the Great Bear’s visit. Nearly half of the flowers in the garden had wilted, and while they hadn’t been replaced, Nightshade did spread out the remaining flowers. It still looked full, but the whole garden had lost a lot of density.

  I sink inward and clear my mind of distractions. With ease I reached out to Nightshade, who seemed to be happily humming a song I didn’t recognize. I quietly listened for a stretch of time until Nightshade finished. Rushing anywhere without an actual emergency rarely got anywhere with Nightshade.

  “Bonded,” The words were warm with the feeling and warmth of platonic love. “You have more questions. May I know them?” She conveyed a feeling of patient guidance and interest without pressure.

  “Nightshade, do you know about Greater Mana Affinities? Mine changed, and while I think I know why, I’m worried about the cause.” I’m almost tempted to tell her about it, but Nightshade will understand better than most about the danger of knowledge. Especially because she has access to my affinity through our bond. With the deep communion we are using to communicate, she understands perfectly the intent of my omission. She quietly hums for a time in deep reflection.

  “So few mentions in all my years. No, Callen. I’m sorry, but I know little other than rumors. Perhaps your Earthkin teacher might know? A previous Earthkin rune maker once made mention of it many years ago.” The feeling of fog blotting out the sun expresses Nightshade’s disappointment. I gently comfort her. I suppose even if Nightshade is ancient, she has only ever lived in a small town on the edge of civilization. I pass on a feeling of satisfaction. Even if I didn’t immediately have an answer, she did point me towards one. I slowly get up from my meditation and gently rub Nightshade’s leaf. The gesture might not be familiar or affectionate from the perspective of a plant, but she is smart enough to piece together the intent just as I do when she conveys her feelings.

  I make my way out of the tower and down into the town. The clouds overhead begin darkening, and rain softly begins to accompany my walk. I brace myself to run the rest of the way, but on an almost instinctive level I shift the rain into my space. Moments later I’m completely dry despite standing in the now pouring rain shielded by an invisible umbrella. It nearly scares me from how it acted on such an instinctive level. The moment I rejected my ‘umbrella,’ the rain immediately bypassed it, threatening to soak me again.

  Shaking the strange event from my mind, I ran the remaining distance to Master Yoren’s workshop. Inside was a mess of renovations and busy earthkin. Yoren had barely any time to spend with me ever since the clan had moved in. The status of master was bigger than I had anticipated. In the entire clan there were only two masters, and each had nearly a dozen apprentices. Seeing a master with no immediate apprentices was such a golden opportunity; most earthkin youth had spent nearly a week waiting outside his workshop, hoping he might take them.

  Yoren had only just finished sorting out who he wanted to take in when the town went into battle preparation mode, but now there was time for him to begin altering his workshop to accommodate so many new apprentices. While he had a tendency to complain about the lack of potential in the new generation, I could tell he enjoyed being among his people. I went deeper inside towards Yoren’s office and noticed an apprentice with a scorched face in the ‘mistakes’ section. My book was in his hands as he stubbornly took notes for his future addition to the library.

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  Yoren sat in his office etching a rune into a leather boot. From how he was trying to do it out of sight and from the pile of papers stacked up, it was apparent he was procrastinating his paperwork. Interrupting would ruin whatever he was working on and be generally rude, so I quietly grabbed a chair and started sorting through his papers. Some were forms regarding the expansion of his forge, and others were letters he was drafting to his master. I grab the familiar paperwork from my time working alongside Mayor Hew and get to work lightening my master’s load. Just as I finish, I hear an embarrassed cough from Yoren.

  “Thanks, lad.” I pass the finished forms over to him, and he awkwardly accepts them. Clearly embarrassed to have been caught procrastinating, but also grateful the work is done. He barely glances over my work before placing it in the finished pile. “Be there a new project? If it isn’t urgent, I wou' like a little time ta get tha new lads settled.”

  “Just a bit of guidance. Do you know anything about Greater Affinities?” Yoren seems a bit shocked but just grumbles to himself in such a manner that I can’t understand any of it. He grabs a key from his neck and unlocks a hidden compartment in the floor below. Reaching in, he pulls out a small pile of books dusty from neglect. He grabs one in particular with the title Elementals and hands it over.

  “It’s best if ye don’t share this outside. It’s something deemed best left in tha hands o' a proper master. I didn’t share them with ye 'afore, because I felt ye were still too young ta properly understand tha dangers. Since you're asking, it likely means ye need those answers. Just promise ta be careful how ye use what’s in there.” His solemn warning is reason enough for me to take this matter with full seriousness. For the earthkin who cherish knowledge and sharing, it emphasizes how dangerous this information is. I settle into a chair by the side of the room as I crack the book open. No reason to go home and tempt reality to snatch the book or have someone learn something they shouldn’t.

  All sorts of information about elementals, from their essential use in acquiring magic metal to the habits and preferences of various types. Some possess the living, and others manifest as giant monsters. However, the most concerning was when I reached the origins.

  Elvish tribe

  Yeomarr tunes out the arguments that abound around the camp. News of a dwarf flying device encroaching on their territory had sparked all kinds of arguments. Some claimed they intended to seek the artifacts of the ancestral trial grounds, and others blamed human ambition. Yeomarr’s thoughts went back to the human cub that she had heard near the device. It seemed unlikely this was any grand plot, like everyone else seemed to intrinsically accept.

  Her attention was mainly on her little daughter, who was of age for the next trial. At the age of six the child would be led into the proving grounds with a weapon of the parents' choice and a week of rations. If the child failed to return with a relic of worth to the tribe, they would be detained and ritually sacrificed before the children of the next trial. A reminder not to fail.

  Her friend Lassona’s child had survived for 14 years in the ruins and failed to retrieve a relic. That child was chained with magic binding manacles in the elder’s room. If a child failed to return in 6 years, it was acceptable to grieve for them. Lassona wouldn’t just get to grieve their passing once, but twice. What’s worse is that Lassona had another child who will get to watch his sibling die on that altar.

  Still, if the tribe failed to abide by the rules of the trial ground, the Torren tribe, who hold dominance, would invade and slaughter every adult. The children would then be shared among the other tribes. Legend spoke of an ancient monster that fed on the souls of the children, and failure to feed it would incite its rage. Instead of sacrificing a fully trained adult, it was better to give up the children.

  The Elder slammed his staff into the ground, shaking the ancient trees and silencing the arguments.

  “Silence all, I have received word. It is time for the next trial. I shall name each child who is of age. Do not fear the journey ahead; instead, celebrate, for soon you may hold your heads high and speak with your voice heard. Lasson, son of Lassona; Rellmin, son of Werlok; and Freema, daughter of Yeomarr.” Yeomarr drops down to give Freema a tight hug. With barely any time to express her love, Freema is quickly taken away to the elder’s tent. The screams of Lassona’s son echo out as he is made an example of failure to the others.

  Yeomarr quietly holds her half of a pendant that her mother had given her. The other half was now in Freema’s hands. She could only wait and pray that her child finds her way home. Outside her home the arguments from earlier pick back up like the lives of the children meant nothing.