Mythshaper

We returned from the chasm run a couple of hours earlier. Even so, today's exploration produced ample results.

I knew little of how the storm affected the demons dwelling within the chasm, but that worked well to serve our purpose, as we came across half a dozen elite centipedes during the run. We managed to dispatch five of them before we lost most of our fighting capacity while charging after the last one. We had no other choice but to return early.

Well, I would be lying if I said there were no options. Even a lesser recovery potion or half an hour of rest would have served me well to continue further. It would take more for the others, though, so much so that it was better to be happy with today's spoils and return.

I had no problem with that either. A few more days like today, and I would be done with the chasms.

After refreshing myself, I spent the entire afternoon on my craft before Rosalyn dropped by to oversee my shaping practice. I was prepared to breeze through the rigorous ice, wind, fire, and most importantly, lightning shaping, exhausting my essence once again, but my aunt had something else on her mind.

Since it was the last day of her mentorship, Rosalyn was of a mind to end with something more eventful. And what better way was there than a duel to gauge all I had learned in these few days?

Rosalyn did not have to hold back much in the duel, being fully aware of my abilities and the items I bore.

She threw shards of ice and wind blades relentlessly, as though she could pull an endless amount of essence. I knew that to be false, but it was still many times more than what my Aether roots were capable of. There was no interval between her casts, her essence threads shaping through various weaves with mechanical precision, while I scrambled to dodge. There had not been a single instance where my spells reached her.

"You may be able to shape many elements with great mastery," she said, "but using them in battle is an art in itself."

I agreed readily, remembering the time I misfired during a battle in the last couple of days. It was something that could only be solved with more experience. My control was near impeccable, though the interchanging between weaves could be improved. Rosalyn was purely sublime at it, whereas I faltered mostly because there had not been much need for me to implement my shaping in battle.

Even now, against my aunt, I had to mostly confront her with kinetic shields, either intercepting her spells or evading using Haste.

"You have good instincts," Rose praised, watching as all her spells dispelled into thin air or were obstructed by invisible shields. "But you can't always evade."

Then a lightning bolt cracked through my kinetic shield to strike the protective forcefield of my relic. Even with the forcefield spreading the force, it plunged into me like a warhammer, hurling me a dozen paces away before I could orient myself.

Our spar continued until I was exhausted, and the rest of it was not much different. Implementing Haste, I managed to close on her a few times, only to be let down by her defence, which was as impeccable as her offence.

Rosalyn was far above what was considered to be an elite.

"I thought you'd be more lenient?" I said, lying down on the field.

Rose tilted her head. "I had considered it, but believed you needed some humbling."

"I think it is you who needs it," I muttered under my breath, but that did not go unnoticed by her.

She smiled crookedly. "Want to have another go?"

"I will save it for another time." When I can finally beat you to dust.

"Sound choice," my aunt said, the grin not leaving her lips, clearly aware of what was brewing in my mind. "Either way, with this, you're prepared to sweep the contest."

"Sweep?" I sat upright.

She nodded. "But in case you need more humbling, feel free to call me."

It was already dark when she turned to leave. I decided to tag along at least to the waygate, since it would be some time before we would meet again. Father joined us, as Mum was busy with Diana. They had been looking after me a little too much since I told them about the possible half-living I had met.

It was merely seven on the clock, and there were plenty of people in the street, especially around the waygate hub. There were sentries and high-class awakened on guard there at all times.

As we entered the hall, Rosalyn shot me a thoughtful look.

"What is it?"

"You know," she muttered. "I have come to visit you a lot, but you haven't even once, and the next time will probably be me visiting you once again."

"That's not my fault," I said. "It wasn't as if I did not want to visit you."

"Then how about now?"

"Now?"

"Yeah," she said. "It will only take a minute. Our home is practically inseparable from the waygate station."

I do not think that was the problem, Rosalyn.

Before I could reply, she pulled my arm and advanced towards the main hall that held the waygate. In the end, I could only beseech Father to rescue me from the situation. Rosalyn, reading my eyes, glanced at him. "You come too, brother-in-law. Some of us have wanted to meet you for so long."

Father returned a good-natured smile. "I think I will pass this time. Besides, Ashlyn might get worried finding us not returning."

There was more to it, but neither my aunt nor I held him to account.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"So it is you and I, then," Rosalyn told me, before turning to Father again. "Don't worry, I will return him at the earliest tomorrow."

"But, but..." I wanted to argue, remembering the tension between Mum and Grandma. But Rosalyn acted as if that was nothing at all.

And so did my father, patting me on the shoulder. "Don't worry about your Mum."

Ultimately, I could only comply. I did want to visit and see where Mum had grown up. Vasher was supposed to be one of the most picturesque places, like Nayanda and Victoria. And I would get to meet Aunt Emi. It had been so long since I had seen her.

"Just in case Mum gets angry, I will tell her it was entirely your idea," I added, advancing into the station.

"Do as you like," Rosalyn snickered. "Ash never gets angry at me."

Well, it might be the first time, though I hoped she would not.

Whilst Rosalyn said it would only take a minute, we still had to stand in the waiting line for over a quarter of an hour before it was finally our turn.

There was no end to the shipment of goods coming in or going out. From what I had seen, even oats were challenging to cultivate in Elinum's dry red soil. It was surrounded by the blighted chasma and the Death Valley, each one more abominable than the other. But what Elinum lacked in production was compensated for by its rich source of ores.

The Pathfinder instructed us all to follow him closely once we were in the Paths, along with all the other little tidbits everyone needed to be worried about, before lights began to surface on the octagonal waygate. My arcane acuity practically screamed as various rune marks lit up on its surface, leaving much of its intricacy concealed within. Then, finally, a dark purple, mirror-like surface emanated from the octagonal entrance, connecting the waygate to the Paths.

I could have stood there and observed for an hour more, but Rosalyn pulled me forward into the waygate. The strange pulsation heightened the moment my skin touched the bizarre mirror. It was similar to diving into cold water, but instead of water, you were diving into some other strange substance.

The inside was sealed in a vacuum. Even though the grand stone path did not give that impression, my shaper senses could easily tell. The pathways were not well lit, but there were both light constructs and oil lamps, divided by a mere dozen steps, along with the light source we carried. I could make out each block of stone in great detail, as well as the blocky metal structures supporting them. They had stood the test of time for a few millennia, seeing little to no wear and tear. But despite the clarity of the path, the light did not reach anywhere further than it led, as though it was merely one-directional.

The Pathfinder led us to Vahsar, as the path diverged quite a few times in the few moments of walking. Finally, we found ourselves at a crossroads, with a steady staircase leading to a couple of waygates. Only one of them seemed to be functioning, even though both appeared identical in build. I did not have time to entertain any thoughts, as we were practically pushed out by all the people behind us in the queue.

The first thing I noticed upon coming out was the temperature. It seemed winter was still budding in Vasher, and it was also quite late, being two hours ahead of Elinum's time.

There were fewer folk in the Vasher waystation, but it still took another few minutes to fill our records in the registry. The problem was not Rosalyn. She ran daily through the waygates and seemed quite popular with the officer in charge. But since it was my first time here in Vasher, I needed to go through some verification.

My Journeyman token helped cut the interview short, though the officer kept flashing curious glances at both of us.

"What was that about?" I asked as we strode our way out.

"It is your name," my aunt chuckled. "There are plenty of boys with the name Arcis going around, but you match the look and hair, and you are also accompanied by me. It would be odd if they were not curious about your identity."

A snow-filled earth welcomed us. The wind was not severe, but icy, with mist obscuring the starlit sky. Contrary to Elinum's placement of its waystation in the centre, here it seemed to be in a much emptier field. There were still some people, but the guards in position outnumbered them.

"Honestly, if it were a better time and people knew Silverheart's grandson was coming home for the first time, there would be a crowd here to welcome you."

I shot her a look, questioning how absurd that sounded. "Where to from here?" I asked, looking around. There were a few houses in the surroundings, though none seemed like a home to me.

Rosalyn pointed at the very first edifice in front of us. Even the thick mist was unable to obscure its view. A palatial mansion at the foot of a mountain. I took it in with both of my eyes and then turned to Rosalyn, before looking at the mansion once again.

"That is your home?" I said. "You never said you were a princess."

"It's just an old house," my aunt said with a shrug.

No, it was not just old. It looked like a royal residence, and it was quite interlinked with the waystation, as Rose had mentioned.

"Come now. It is much better-looking from the inside." She dragged me into the air as the view became clearer. It was absurd to call it an old house. Whoever built this did not want it to be a simple place for people to stay, but a monument people would come to visit as an example of artistry. There was nothing like this in Klearon. The sanctuary could compare, but that was a place for worship, not for people to live.

"I heard it took some six years to build this back in the day," Rose said as we flew over the fences. The air immediately grew much warmer. "Even with awakened workers."

Looking at it, I could imagine that. The garden, spreading for a couple of hundred metres by itself, seemed like it would take someone committed, and more so for the palace.

"Honestly, most of it is a waste," Rose said, directly taking me through an open window on the second floor.

Now that my curiosity was somewhat quelled, a queasy nervousness gripped my heart. I almost failed to land straight. What if it was a bad idea to come? What if Mum got furious at me?

"Come on, let me see if I can get anything to feed you." Rosalyn pulled me down the hallway as my eyes shifted from one side to the other. The floor sparkled with glossy black granite, contrasting with the white walls, with various paintings, neat sculptwork, and other decorations adorning them.

The ceiling was easily one and a half times higher than in regular houses, making it spacious even with all the décor. As we walked along the corridor, I suddenly froze, finding a familiar face amongst the paintings. It was a portrait of Mum when she was barely a couple of years older than I was, with exuberant, youthful features and longer, brighter locks of hair parted on both sides of her cheeks. A full, fluffy gown draped her form, exuding a bubbly personality that perhaps did not depict the Mum I knew. Her expression, however, was much more familiar.

"Uncle Varyn painted this even before I was born," Rosalyn said. "Most of them in this line are."

The painting next to Mum was of a middle-aged man in a much more heroic pose. He wore black armour trimmed in gold, very akin to the knights of the Empire, only missing the helmet. A sheathed sword was held at his side as he looked towards us. A gruff beard, with more than a handful of grey strands, framed his face. The similarities between his features and Mum's were evident, marking him as my grandfather, the late Arcis Silverheart.

"Mother was very adamant that we get a portrait done every year," Rosalyn explained, "and it helps that we have a renowned artist in the house."

To the right, there were other paintings of Mum, each a year or a few seasons apart, from as young as two or three, by my estimation. There were just as many images of Aunt Emi alternating between them, and even together in some, until finally a newborn baby joined Mum in her lap.

"You look very pretty in this," I said, pointing at the baby.

"Haha," my aunt returned with a deadpan smile.

As we rounded a corner, Rose's portraits began. Unfortunately, a few of them were not hand-painted, but printed from an illuminator. I was about to ask her about it when my eyes fell on a grand opus. It was drawn in simple oil paints, but the colours and strokes drew me in. The canvas was larger too, as if the painter knew what they were about to create. It held both my Mum and Aunt Emi, seated on either side of Grandmother.

Mum was about Rosalyn's age there, whereas Aunt Emi was even younger than I was now. My grandmother looked positively younger as well, and far more regal in bearing.

"I remember the day this was painted," an aged voice echoed from behind me. I quickly turned to find my grandmother, her gaze shifting from the portrait to me. "Ashlyn was about to go on an expedition. She was furious that it took four hours of her precious time sitting on the couch for the painting."

I did not know how to reply to that.

"Good seeing you, grandson," she finally said, lifting her arms wide. "Won't you give your grandmother a hug?"