13-17. Giving Up and Moving On
Elijah sat in the center of the field, surrounded by foreign vegetation. With his senses fully extended, he could feel every single plant in his vicinity. And they all felt hollow, as if they were missing some vital part of their very identities. Like the very air within Dravkein’s influence, the crops felt artificial. Sterile. Almost antiseptic.
Yet, they were packed full of life and nutrients.
There were no insects buzzing in the air. No worms tunneling through the soil. No bacteria. No fungi. Just dirt and plants. Elijah felt like he was sitting in the middle of a vast terrarium on an alien world.
Which wasn’t so far from the truth.
Fat drops of artificial rain, purified and deployed through a system of irrigation he didn’t really understand, fell upon his shoulders.
In a lot of ways, the fields surrounding Dravkein were marvelous evidence of human ingenuity. And the natives were human, too. Elijah had confirmed that much. And their drive to survive was just as keen as it would’ve been back on Earth. They’d developed a method to persist despite being stranded in one of the most hostile environments imaginable.
To do that, they’d developed the nine-ring system, which served to gradually filter the atmospheric corruption until they could exist without it affecting them. Would Earth do the same when they faced excisement? Or would they simply die?
In addition to the feedback from Soul of the Wild, Elijah could vaguely feel his own grove. It was so far away that it presented only on the edge of his mind, and there were times when he wondered if it was even real. Certainly, his locus gave him no information to verify that his grove was still out there, that it hadn’t already succumbed to excisement. For all he knew, the sense was just his imagination. An echo of his desire to believe that it was still there.
But he knew that Earth wasn’t nearly as advanced as Gorveth had been when they faced excisement. They’d been subject to the system for almost a century when their countdown began. And that was probably the only reason they’d managed to survive. In that time, they’d developed a mastery of runecrafting that exceeded anything currently possible on Earth.
They’d also nurtured dozens of demi-gods.
And nine deities.
None of those powerful figures were still alive. Calling themselves the Luminarch Synod of the Ninefold Grace, they had given their lives just to give their people a chance. Not immediately, but the drain had put such a strain on them that it had cut their lifespans down to almost nothing.
Now, their descendants – demi-gods, all – ruled Ithalon.
In his hubris, Elijah had initially believed he could help Dravkein in a way that only a Druid could. That was what had driven him into the fields, where he’d attempted to use Nature’s Design, Blessing of the Grove, and Grove Conduit to inject genuine vitality into their crops.
It had nearly ended in disaster.
First of all, Grove Conduit refused to activate, and in retrospect, Elijah should have expected as much. After all, he was cut off from his grove. Soon after arrival, he’d attempted to use Roots of the World Tree to return home, but even the function that was supposed to teleport him back to the grove, regardless of his location, wouldn’t work. He’d cast the spell just like any other time, but it just sputtered without taking effect.
The same was true of Grove Conduit.
Blessing of the Grove was still effective, though. So was Nature’s Design. However, the balance of the fields was so delicate that his use of those spells very nearly destroyed the entire system.
He’d only managed to pull back at the last moment before the entire field was ruined. Later, he would endure a lecture from the head farmer – a woman with three arms and six eyes – berating him for his recklessness. Elijah took it because he knew she was right.
The fact was that their system had been developed and perfected over the course of centuries. And meddling with it – even with the best of intentions – was a good way to ruin their food supply.
But despite the sterile nature of the fields, Elijah still found the farms far more comforting than anywhere else in Dravkein. They were still populated by plants, after all. And after spending months in the lifeless wastes of the excised world, they were like a balm to his wounded spirit.
He knew it was coming to an end, though.
After nearly two months in Dravkein, during which he’d learned as much as he could about the world, he knew he would soon need to leave. There was more to learn, but Elijah couldn’t bring himself to sit still any longer.
Even if much of the urgency he’d felt to return home had long since faded, it was still his goal. Did it matter that there was a good chance that, by the time he managed it, humanity would have failed its task, resulting in Earth’s excisement? Despite that being a distinct possibility, Elijah needed to know, one way or the other.
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Or at least that was what his practical side told him. The more emotional bits in his mind were trapped in a web of despair over what seemed almost inevitable.
After all, if the people of Gorveth, who were much more advanced than the humans of Earth, couldn’t avoid excisement, then what hope did Elijah’s home planet really have?
Especially without him.
Elijah was well aware that he was the only reason they’d managed as much progress as they’d seen. Now that he was gone, others might take up that burden. Or they could continue to fight among themselves and jockey for power, all the while believing that someone else would step up to save them.
“You’ve been out here for a while,” came a familiar voice.
Elijah didn’t need to look back to know that it was Benedict.
“What do you want?”
“We need to talk about what we’re going to do.”
“I don’t think there’s much more to say.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, Benedict,” Elijah pointed out as he rose to his full height. He turned and went on, “The fact that we fell through a portal to the abyss isn’t fair. Being stranded on an excised world isn’t fair. This whole situation, where an entire planet is sentenced to death just because they can’t meet some arbitrary standard set by an all-powerful, god-like being, isn’t fair. And yet, here we are.”
Elijah knew that his characterization of the situation was, at best, simplistic. At worst, it was outright wrong. The whole system of excisement was there because of just how much of a danger the abyss posed to the World Tree. Allowing it to spread unchecked was like letting an infection run rampant. Sometimes, it was best just to cut it out.
It was sometimes easy to forget that rifts, towers, and Primal Realms weren’t just there to give people a means to progress. They weren’t arbitrary. Instead, they were there to stem the flow of the abyss, funneling that power into something useful. They were pressure valves, and conquering them was the means by which they were vented.
According to everything Elijah had learned, that was the reason the portal through which he and Benedict had fallen even existed. Sure, there was an explanation within the Primal Realm’s narrative, but the reason that portal actually led to the abyss was because the connection was already there.
It was just an unlucky twist of fate that Etkatiran had the means and knowledge to drill through whatever protections had been erected by the system. He was just a character, but that character was probably based on a transcendent and master of magic, creating a unique situation.
Or that was the working theory.
No one was an expert, though. Not even the people of Dravkein, whose foundations in magic stretched back thousands of years.
“It’s hopeless,” Benedict stated. “You know that, don’t you? There’s no way home.”
“There’s always a way. We just haven’t found it yet,” Elijah insisted, even if he didn’t really believe it. That was irrelevant. He didn’t have it in him to give up.
Of course, he had a lot more waiting for him. Benedict’s choice to surrender to the circumstances was understandable. He had nothing back on Earth. No friends. No family. Benediction had assuredly fallen, either completely or into cannibalistic chaos. That he didn’t want to go back was predictable.
But Elijah still judged him for it.
Understanding wasn’t the same as excusing, after all.
“You still want to go to Ithalon. Even after everything they told you.”
“I do.”
“They will kill you.”
“Aw. You care.”
“This isn’t a joke, Elijah. They will literally –”
“I’m well aware that this isn’t a joke, Benedict. I have people depending on me back there. The entire planet could have already fallen into the abyss because I wasn’t there. And if that’s the case, me figuring out how to escape this planet might end up saving the entire human race. So yeah. I’m going to Ithalon because that’s the only place I might find a solution.”
There were other possibilities, of course. Areas of power that sounded a lot like ley lines to him. If all of that proved useless, he intended to visit the sites of the old Primal Realms that had long since burst, admitting a tide of abyssal corruption.
He even had plans for how to make use of them.
And if all of that failed?
Elijah had no idea.
But Ithalon was the world’s hub. What was meant to be their last bastion. And the only place with a working Branch of the World Tree. With that, Elijah could advance to demi-god, which would permit him to continue his path of progression. It might not be an answer in and of itself, but it was a step in the right direction.
After all, he knew for a fact that some deities were capable of traversing the abyss. He didn’t like the prospect of spending uncountable years on Gorveth working toward that goal, but if that was what it took, that was what he would do.
First, though, he needed to access that Branch and advance to demi-god.
And that meant going to Ithalon.
More importantly, it meant inserting himself into a quagmire of local politics and likely pitting himself against the members of the Luminarch Synod of the Ninefold Grace.
Despite their pretentious name, they held real power. According to Zek, each of them were at the very limit of demi-godhood. Which would make them the most powerful people he’d ever encountered, save for Kirlissa. Or technically, Yloa, though he’d been hamstrung by the system.
“I won’t come with you,” Benedict repeated.
“I know.”
“And you’re not going to try to convince me?”
“Would it work?”
Benedict shook his head.
“Then no point in trying,” Elijah said. Then, he reached out to grip his companion’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m better off alone. And this place seems good for you.”
Benedict looked away as he wrestled with the shame of giving up.
“It’s not surrender,” Elijah insisted. “Think of it more like…I don’t know. Like you’re embracing a new path. A healthier one.”
Benedict pulled away. “Don’t patronize me. I know what I’m doing.”
Elijah shrugged. “I know. I’m just trying –”
“Just try not to get yourself killed,” he interrupted. “And take plenty of supplies. From what I understand, Ithalon is a long way away.”
With that, Benedict stomped away, leaving Elijah stranded amidst the sterile crops, a mix of dread, anticipation, and excitement tangling his mind. At that moment, the artificial rain ceased, and Elijah half expected the sun to peek its head through the clouds. But when he looked up, he only saw the familiar black sky streaked with purple.
He could never forget where he was.
Nor could he forget his goals. His responsibilities. He needed to keep moving forward, lest he surrender to the lack of purpose that had infected his companion.
With that in mind, he strode after Benedict and into Dravkein to begin his preparations for what would be a very long journey.