Mythshaper

Chapter 50: Charm of Foretelling

The advancement on this occasion was almost instantaneous, though that didn’t mean it was painless.

A new green aether root pierced through my essence seed and split into eight thin strands of essence as it threaded into my channels, rescuing me from the twisting pain.

However, although I was saved from the agony, I was not relieved of the recurring nightmare episode.

Darkness consumed my sight, and the next time I opened my eyes, I was in a completely different realm of existence. Thankfully, it wasn’t the same starless sky or the ruin anymore. I was under bright sun, regrettably, I couldn’t say I was feeling any better.

Opening my eyes blearily, I found myself sprawled on stone ground, a practice sword in my hand.

“Stand up,” A stern voice spoke as a shadow fell over my face.

I looked up, squinting with the sun scorching brightly overhead, and even then, I could barely make out the man’s face. A radiant white robe draped over his form, matching his white hair, his stature not losing much to my father's.

“Stand up,” repeated the man, the voice growing harder. He, too, had a long practice sword on his arm.

Clutching the wooden sword tight, I stood upright, only to find I was not inhabiting the body of the adult man with the gruff beard, but someone younger--someone perhaps only a year or two older than myself. I was in some grand courtyard, encompassed on all sides by tall establishments, with walls smoothed and polished. There were others of my age standing on both sides, whispering among themselves. I tried to catch anything useful, but only incomprehensible slurry words came into my ears.

“Begin,” said the tall man, radiant in the scorching sun.

I tried to catch his features, but before I managed to etch it into my memory, he shot at me, sword thrust towards my head.