13-33. Predictable
Elijah sat atop the tallest building in Dravkein, his legs swinging back and forth over the ledge. He wrapped his fingers around the mug, cherishing the warmness spreading through his hands. Above him, the ever-present rivers of corruption – purple and virulent – slithered through the black sky. If he used Eyes of the Eagle, he could see the barest hint of the monsters hovering just outside the city’s influence.
He let out a sigh, his breath misting in the cold, sterile air.
“You have been up here for some time,” came a familiar voice. Elijah didn’t need to look up to recognize it as belonging to the eldest hunter in the city.
“Do you know what it’s like to lose an entire planet?”
“I do not,” Zek answered, settling in beside him. “Gorveth was excised well before my birth. By the time I came of age and learned the truth, the old world was but a distant legend.”
“I wonder if that would be better,” Elijah admitted, finally flicking his eyes toward the old man. He looked the same as always, his rubbery black skin standing in stark contrast to the stark white beard. “By now, the deadline has passed. Either humanity stepped up to prevent excisement, or…”
He shook his head, unable to utter the words in his heart. He’d spent the past few weeks recovering, and during that time, he had focused almost entirely on trying to feel his grove. The echo of that connection remained, but he could sense nothing else from his locus. For so long, he’d ignored the ticking clock, but he could fool himself no longer.
“Perhaps they succeeded where we did not.”
It was a nice sentiment, and Elijah appreciated the comment. But he didn’t believe it. Not really. Just like the ancient people of Gorveth, Earth’s population was far too concerned with jockeying for position and fighting over who held more influence. The likelihood that they’d set all that aside to work for the greater good was all but unfathomable.
Even with someone like Sadie to lead the charge.
And that was if the invasion he’d felt just before being thrown into the abyss had failed. If it hadn’t, there was a very good chance that his people had been slain and the grove plundered for all its resources.
The mug shattered in his hand, spraying coffee into the air. The shards fell, clattering onto the ground far below.
“Sorry,” Elijah muttered, already summoning another mug from his Arcane Loop. Next came the French press, which contained almost enough for another cup. “Still getting used to my strength.”
Zek chuckled lightly. “I remember when I advanced to demi-god. It took me nearly a decade to acclimate to the change.”
“I’m no demi-god.”
Zek narrowed his eyes. “You fought the entire Synod alone.”
“And I lost. Or I would have if I hadn’t run.”
“That you survived at all is an achievement.”
Elijah just shrugged. Even in the best of times, he was uncomfortable with praise. And now? With his failure to save Earth so dominant in his thoughts? He didn’t want to hear about how powerful he was. The fact remained that, no matter what he’d accomplished, he wasn’t strong enough. That was all that mattered.
His return to Dravkein hadn’t been easy. More than once, Guise of the Stalker failed to conceal him from the powerful monsters that roamed Gorveth’s surface. In most of those cases, Elijah had simply run. However, he was forced to fight on two occasions, and both instances nearly killed him.
So, when he’d finally found his way to Dravkein, he was more than just exhausted. He was entirely worn out, and he hadn’t started feeling better until a week later.
“Do you think I made the right call?”
Zek shook his head. “I don’t know. Likely not,” he answered. “There is a chance they would have welcomed you.”
“A slim chance?”
“Very. Much has changed since the last time I was there,” Zek acknowledged. “But the people I knew would have seen you as competition, and they only know one way to deal with a rival.”
He looked Elijah in the eyes. “There has been no shortage of talent among my people,” he went on. “When a true power begins to develop, they tend to disappear. Or if they have influential parents, they will be adopted by one of the nine.”
“Eight now,” Elijah said.
“Eight. I still struggle to believe you killed one.”
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“Away from her domain, she was weak.”
“It is still an accomplishment.”
“You say that like I should be proud of killing an unarmed woman,” Elijah sighed. Before Zek could point out that she was a demi-god who’d participated in the wholesale oppression of an entire people, Elijah went on, “I know what she was, Zek.”
“You don’t. You have only seen the barest hints of the monsters they became,” he stated. “Once, I told myself that it was not their faults. It was the corruption. With every step forward, it offers a more tainted path. Mortals are the least affected. Even Ascendants are mostly free of corruption. But the second one becomes a demi-god…”
He sighed, shaking his head as he admitted, “My class is an Abyssal Stalker. With every skill I use, I come closer to becoming one of those things out there. Mindless. Driven by pure hunger, by a need to consume. But I resist it.” He slapped his fist across his black-armored chest. “I am still me!”
It sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
“I tell myself that when the time comes, I will be able to go to the Branch and become a Deity. That I will use the resultant power to find a way to help my people,” he said. “It is a lie. No one survives that transformation. Even the few who keep their minds intact…they are no longer the people they were. It is what happened to the original leaders of the nine clans. It is why the members of the Synod still haven’t advanced. They have stunted their own growth because they know they will not survive deification.
“Not intact,” he finished.
“What happened to the originals?”
Zek gave a subtle shrug, then leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “They disappeared, never to be seen again. Some claim they’re still out there,” he explained, gesturing broadly to indicate the world as a whole. “Others say they ended up forging a path into the abyss.”
“What do you think?”
“I think they are dead, or they have become monsters. Both amount to the same thing.”
That declaration brought with it a long silence that stretched on for a few minutes before Zek asked the question he’d truly come to ask. “What will you do?”
Elijah took a sip from his coffee, savoring the warmth as much as the flavor. Then, he admitted, “I don’t know. I need to grow stronger.”
That much was obvious. It wasn’t that long ago that he’d vowed to continue his progression, even if that only meant cultivation. And he’d followed through on that vow, continuously working on his soul. It was still a long way from taking the next step, but he’d still made significant progress.
He just needed to keep going.
Then there was the crystal in his Arcane Loop. He’d only taken it out for inspection a handful of times, but even those short bouts of examination told him that it was the key to everything.
He just didn’t know how.
At first, he’d planted it in the ground, hoping that he could grow a new Branch all on his own. He’d used Blessing of the Grove, his Mantle of Authority, and Nature’s Design, but all he’d gotten was unconsciousness for his trouble. The second he’d touched that crystal with his power, he was overwhelmed by a consciousness that made his own seem like an ant compared to a star. It had taken two more such instances before Elijah decided to stop trying that method.
But he still thought it was important.
He just wasn’t sure how to access its power.
“I think I need to take the next step in soul cultivation,” Elijah said, mostly to himself. “But for that, I need power. Lots and lots of power.”
“You will find that in Druhmor.”
“What?” Elijah asked, vaguely recognizing the name.
“It is the site of the unconquered Primal Realm. The one that brought with it Gorveth’s ruin.”
“I don’t want to run another Primal Realm. Especially not one that’s been stewing for thousands of years.”
“It ceased to be a Primal Realm the moment we were cast into the abyss. Instead, it has become a wound on the world. A tumor pulsing with powerful ethera and even stronger corruption.”
“Like the obelisk.”
Zek shook his head. “The Needle is nothing compared to the Cyst. Druhmor is a place of no return.”
Elijah frowned. “And you think I should go there?”
“I do not.”
“But –”
“You said you wanted power. You will find it in Druhmor. I do not believe you can handle it, though. More likely, you will become just another monster.”
“But if I don’t…”
Zek didn’t provide a response, though they both knew what was coming.
“You knew this was where the conversation would end up, didn’t you?” Elijah asked.
“I did.”
“So you think I should go?”
“I believe you will never be satisfied sitting still,” Zek answered. “Regardless of what I say, you will eventually find your way to Druhmor. It is fated.”
“I don’t know that I believe in fate,” Elijah pointed out.
“That is the thing about fate – it does not matter if you believe in it or not. It exists. Perhaps not as a definitive endpoint, but as an influence on our lives. It nudges us one way or another. The choices remain our own, though.”
“I see.”
Elijah fell silent after that, but he knew good and well what he was going to do. He needed power – and likely corrosion – to push his soul to the next tier, and he would find both at the site of the so-called Cyst. That made it too enticing to ignore.
“How far is it?”
“Tens of thousands of miles. If you embark on such a journey, you will not complete it soon. I suspect that, even should you be successful, it will be years before you return,” Zek answered.
“I have to go.”
“I know,” Zek said. Then, he handed Elijah a leather bundle.
When Elijah untied the string holding it all together, he found that it was a series of detailed maps. Some – depicting the area around Dravkein – were obviously new. The one showing an overview of the world at large was ancient, with cracked leather and faded lines.
As Elijah looked at the largest and oldest map, Zek tapped the surface with one gnarled finger, saying, “This is a copy of an original map of the world.”
Elijah studied it, noting the outline of the continents and the notable landmarks. “So many cities,” he breathed.
“Yes. Our civilization was once quite prolific. Now, there are no more than ten satellite towns like Dravkein. And Ithalon. Our world is dead. Our people are dying,” he went on. “Each year sees fewer births. One day, the last Gorvethian will be born. They will die a lonely death.”
“I…I don’t know how to respond to that.”
“There is no response necessary. I only ask that you take these maps to aid your journey. If you find some way to save us, we will appreciate it. If not…well, at least we tried.”
Elijah nodded. “At least we tried,” he echoed.
He could appreciate that attitude, largely because it wasn’t so different from his own. Zek would never stop fighting for his people, and Elijah would never stop trying to progress. In that way, they were very similar.
“Thank you,” he told the old hunter. He gripped the man’s shoulder. “I won’t forget this.”