Six Words [Chapters 9-12] (Patreon)

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If you'd like to start at the beginning of this Japanese-inspired Progression Fantasy, please go [HERE].

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Shami

Chapter Nine

“While Axraksii slumbered beneath the earth, he continued to spawn new felheen.

They were born imprisoned and unable to reach the surface.”

- A quote from ‘Varinth’s Beginnings, a History Book’

            I stormed my way to the last wall around the keep. This wall was a shorter than the others, but thicker. It was large enough to store supplies inside of it, and the top of the wall was covered in spike-like iron defenses meant to represent the swords of all the soldiers who had fallen defending this castle over the course of its existence.

            The gate of this wall was also open, and it seemed as though it hadn’t been shut in months.

            With my blood hot, I strode through the gate and entered the most heavily defended location in all of the Wist Castle. To my disbelieving surprise, I walked straight into a lush garden full of flowering bushes, lush grass, and decorative ivy. While the farms outside were yellow and sickly, this place was a wonderland of health and beauty.

            I slowed my pace and turned in circles as I walked, taking everything in, my eyes wide, never blinking.

            How was this possible?

            I spotted a caretaker by one of the smaller bushes, his tiny trimmers in one hand. The man knelt and carefully clipped away leaves that were wrong in some way, either yellowed, bitten by bugs, or smaller than they should be.

            He meticulously pruned the shrub, careful not to disturb the flowers.

            I walked straight to him and stopped once I was by his side.

            The man didn’t flinch. He continued with his trimming, his wrinkled hands still steady, even though I suspected him to be close to his sixties. He wore a white uniform similar to mine, but he also wore an apron covered in pockets, each filled with small tools.

            “What’s going on here?” I asked as I motioned to the garden. “Why is it… so green? While the farms are so yellow?”

            The caretaker snipped another imperfect leaf from the bush. “Quiet your voice. It disturbs the plants.”

            I inhaled, and then exhaled. “Excuse me,” I whispered.

            The man stopped, stood, and then tucked his trimmer into one of the many pockets. His back was hunched with age, and from the care of the garden, no doubt in mind.

            “The soil here is cared for,” he said, his voice tiny. Then he looked me over, raising a white eyebrow. “You’re new?”

            I nodded. “I arrived this morning.”

            With a grumbled word of disapproval, the man stepped forward and patted at my clothing. I almost struck him and leapt away, but I maintained hold of my senses. He brushed away bits of wood that clung to my uniform—the wood from the shrines I helped the boy carry.

            I had gotten my uniform dirty, but now it was clean again.

            “Make sure you don’t draw the ire of our lords,” the man whispered. “Keep yourself clean. I am Hino. If you get lost, you can always call on me for directions.”

            “Thank you,” I said. “I am Rimon. But I must know. Please. Why is this garden so healthy? It can’t just be the soil. This part of the castle knows the same heat as the farms.”

            Hino placed his wrinkled hands into two of his pockets. “This garden was blessed by a wandering spirit of land, Rimon-ten. Spirits have wondrous powers that can last generations.”

            “Why don’t we have a spirit bless the farms?”

            That caused Hino to chuckle. His smile was almost infectious. “Oh, well, the farms were blessed many years ago, but, uh, our lord got into a quarrel with the spirit. It no longer helps.” Hino leaned in close. “I suspect it might even be hindering us.”

            I also leaned in, until we were mere inches apart. “Where is this spirit?”

            Obviously, as the new Ring Warlock and ruler of this castle, I would need to fix that first. If the spirit really was bothering the farms and killing our corps, perhaps I would have to get rid of it. However, if a spirit could bless the land, there could potentially be a way to gain its favor.

            “The spirit makes its home out in the eastern woods,” Hino muttered. “But you mustn’t go there, Rimon-ten. I told you—the spirit and our lord fiercely argued. It will perceive our lord’s servant in its forest as disrespectful, and it’ll consume you.”

            I doubted that.

            “Thank you for the warning.” I exhaled as I turned. “But I need to make my way into the keep and—”

            Someone grabbed my shoulder and yanked me around. I grabbed my assailant’s wrist, my thoughts half on my magic, half on my panic. Then I realized it was the bladekeeper, Mazun. He was dappled in sweat and panting as he pulled me toward the gate.

            “What are you doing?” Mazun hissed under his breath. “My instructions were to return to the barracks once you were dressed.”

            His grasp was tight, and even when I attempted to pull myself from him, it was difficult. “I—”

            Before I managed to cobble together an explanation, Mazun dismissively waved his hand.

            “Do you want to get yourself killed?” Mazun asked. “Do you? Listen to what I have to say. It’s not for my wellbeing, it’s for yours.”

            He took me straight to the inner wall and right through the open gate. As we stepped out of the glorious garden and back into the smoke of the crafters area, a small contingent of soldiers marched our way. It was one bladekeeper flanked by five men. As with all bladekeepers, the man kept a sword on his belt, the handle bright red, to draw attention to himself.

            The five soldiers all carried naginatas—polearms that were long wooden shafts and a curved sword at one end. Much like a spear, it allowed for soldiers to extend their reach in melee combat.

            “That is Garrain-ves’s eldest son,” the Warden whispered in my ear. “His name is Kitto, or something—I can’t be bothered to remember every spawn Garrain-ves brought into the world. Kiko is in charge of Wist Castle while the Ring Warlock is away. Or, he would be, if his father hadn’t been brutally murdered.”

            The bladekeeper stomped forward. Mazun pushed me behind him, so that he was between me and the bladekeeper at all times.

            When the bladekeeper reached us, he stopped and turned. His five soldiers also came to a halt, their expressions cold, their movements tense.

            “Mazun-tsin,” the bladekeeper drawled, “what are you doing here? Your domain is over the training yard.”

            Mazun bowed his head. “Of course, Kaito-tsin. But first, I was getting our newest servant acquainted with the grounds.”

            He lied so smoothly and quickly, I wondered if he did so often.

            “Ah, his name is Kaito,” the Warden mumbled. “I was close enough.”

            Kaito narrowed his dark eyes. He was a man as impressive as Mazun, with broad shoulders and a warrior’s stance, but he held himself with so much pride that he seemed more peacock than predator, strutting rather than stalking.

            Unlike Mazun, who was still in his training outfit, Kaito wore metal scaled armor, much like the man I had killed in the Scarlet Lantern.

            When Kaito leaned to the side, to get a better look at me, Mazun moved into his line of sight, shielding me from view.

            Was Mazun… protecting me?

            “We’ll be on our way,” Mazun stated.

            “Hold a moment.”

            Mazun and I held still.

            Kaito shook his head. “It’s fortunate we encountered one another before I returned to the keep, Mazun-tsin, because I need to discuss the amount of rice you requisitioned. Seventeen bags is excessive. I told you that you will receive twelve bags.”

            “Seventeen bags of rice is the bare minimum I need to feed everyone,” Mazun said, slowly and deliberately, as though speaking to a child who was starting to learn their words.

            “You will have twelve bags, and you will make it work.”

            “Our soldiers will grow weak and starve.”

            Kaito pressed his lips into thin line. After a breath, he said, “Soldiers out on the field have to make due. Teach your men some hunting skills.”

            “There are demons in the forest,” Mazun replied, each word spoken with more annoyance than the last. “Or have you forgotten?”

            Kaito pressed one gauntlet-covered finger into Mazun’s chest. “You will get twelve bags of rice, and you will make it work. If we run low on men, so be it. You’ll be the one answering to my father, not me.”

            “We have the rice,” Mazun said, half shouting.

            “Are you disrespecting me? Son of our Ring Warlock? Here?”

            No one said anything. Even the crafters out in their workshops seemed oddly quieter.

            “I meant no disrespect,” Mazun eventually whispered.

            Then Kaito huffed. He gestured to me with a jut of his shoulder. “Perhaps you should offer up your new recruits to the demons to allow you safe passage. Everyone wins then, right?”

            The soldiers darkly chuckled.

            Mazun didn’t reply. He was as cold and tense as ever.

            And with that, Kaito motioned to his men, and they marched into the keep. I watched them go, my skin crawling. If Mazun hadn’t been here, I might’ve killed the bladekeeper right where he stood. My magic was a sphere of death, and currently, I didn’t want to remove Mazun from the castle.

            “He doesn’t care about the castle’s defenses?” I whispered. “Or that he’s making his own people suffer?”

            “He does not,” Mazun murmured. But he quickly shook his head and straightened his posture. “Enough. We shouldn’t discuss this. Come with me. We must return to the barracks immediately.”

***

            The barracks were three long buildings with kitchens at one end and beds at the other. Most of the beds were sleeping rolls laid out on bamboo mats. A few of the men slept up on beds with frames, but they were the exception.

            Weapons hung on the walls, and a place to clean and sharpen spears was set up outside each building, shielded from the suns by an awning. Each of the buildings could house two hundred and fifty men, though it was cramped quarters.

            Mazun brought me into the nearest building, where the soldiers were serving cooked rice with an egg crackled over the grains and stirred. It was a delicious and satisfying meal, though I wasn’t given any. Instead, Mazun took me to the area with the beds.

            “You’ll stay here with us for the time being,” Mazun stated. Then he motioned to the spears hung on the walls. “You’ll help clean these. Do you understand?”

            I nodded.

            “Tomorrow, the master of coin and the castle caretaker will return from their trading ventures. I’ll give you to the caretaker then, and you’ll be given a proper position.”

            “Thank you,” I said with a bow of my head.

            Mazun returned the bow and then headed over to the other soldiers. He gave me a single glance over his shoulder, as though he were uncertain about something, but he never said anything. Once he wasn’t paying much attention to me, I made my way to spears to help clean them.

            I also kept my eye on the door.

            Because as soon as the soldiers stepped out of the building to resume their training, I intended to slip out of the castle, and head into the eastern woods.

            Out there, I could practice my magic—and perhaps have a word with the spirit of the land.

Chapter Ten

“Great leaders are remembered by their men.

True leaders are remembered by the history books.”

- A quote from ‘The Teachings of Shoki’

            It wasn’t until dusk that I managed to sneak out of the barracks.

            The main gate was still open, even as the two suns set over the far mountains. Unlike the middle gate, and the keep gate, the outer gate was clearly closed on a regular basis.

            I thanked the darkness as I left the castle grounds, as it cooled the land and protected me from the harshness of the suns’ light.

            While I had never been to Wist Castle, and knew little about the surroundings, I was emboldened by my ring and my newfound magic. The oak and maple trees of the eastern forest grew in clumps, and the undergrowth was thick, but none of that bothered me. I stepped into the woods, intent on finding the spirit of the land.

            “Aren’t you afraid?” the Warden whispered.

            I pushed low-hanging branches from my path. “No. Now that I’m a Ring Warlock, and have these phenomenal powers, why would I be?”

            “You think your magic will work on demons?”

            I stopped mid-step, holding onto the branch of an oak tree, my blood icy. After a deep breath, and a moment to mull over the Warden’s statement, I relaxed.

            “It’ll work against demons,” I said.

            “But you don’t know that,” the Warden said in a playful tone, as though making me panic was somehow amusing.

            I continued forward, more determined than before. “My magic comes from the First Shadow, doesn’t it? Axraksii is more powerful than some demon who wanders these woods.”

            The Wardens chortling filled my ear. “You’re correct, Rimon-ves. No mere demon can withstand the might of Axraksii.”

            But I slowed my pace as I mulled over the Warden’s words. “What about… other Ring Warlocks? Didn’t you say the neighboring warlock had a magical ability related to immortality? What if I used my ability on him? Would it work?”

            “You’re so curious,” the Warden replied, in the same playful tone, as though speaking to a child. “What fun would I have if I told you all the answers? I’d rather you wonder.”

            I exhaled, irritated by this creature’s taunting, but also enjoying the scents of the woods. In Ritmo City, the most common smell was sewage. The second most common was incense, burned to keep the rank odors at bay.

            But these woods were earthy and lush.

            As I traveled, the moon, a spectator to my adventure, partially lit the way. Most of the trees attempted to hinder me, their leaves blocking the sky. Each of my steps upon the mossy earth was a muffled thud, and I wondered if I was trotting upon sleeping spirits.

            After some time, I found a small clearing between the trees, the silvery moonlight casting a beautiful beam of light over the undergrowth. I stopped here, and glanced around. It seemed a shame to destroy this place with my magic, but I needed to practice somewhere.

            I glanced down at my bandaged hand.

            Did I need to remove the wrappings to use my magic? I suspected not, so I kept them on.

            After a hesitant breath, I turned to the nearest oak tree and placed my hand against the rough bark. I swallowed hard as I imagined my magic as a second set of lungs—a new way of breathing.

            I wanted to control my destruction—I didn’t want it to spiral out of control and consume everything around me. Was that possible? The only way to know would be to practice as much as my body could handle.

            My Heat Death activated just as it had before. It was a pressure—a presence—that filled the air around me. Within seconds, the oak tree withered and twisted, the life essence of the elderly tree fading in an instant. Its long life slammed into my body, filling me with more than I could handle.

            I staggered backward and hit the ground, my mind flooded with the realization I was killing the shrubs, the insects, and the owls in the branches.

            “Stop,” I growled through gritted teeth.

            It took all my willpower to end the devastation. I curled up on my side, staring at the moonlit detritus that covered the ground. The pain was worse than before. The life essence of the old oak tree was enough that I felt like I might burst—a blister filled with too much pus.

             Two withered owl corpses plummeted to the ground and hit with lifeless thwaps. The dead oak tree was twisted and gnarled, and the plants all around the clearing were shriveled to the point they weren’t even recognizable.

            All dead.

            In an instant.

            “You don’t look so well,” the Warden said with a laugh. “You better get good quickly, or else you might be a short-lived amusement.”

            When I tried to stand, every joint in my body flared with agony. I groaned as I feebly rolled onto my back. The life essence of everything I had killed remained with me. Was there a way to make it all my own?

            “I didn’t want to kill everything in this clearing,” I muttered with a grunt. Even speaking hurt.

            The Warden replied, “If your magic is a new way for you to breathe, then you should imagine what would happen if you were to whisper.”

            I stared through the hole in the leafy canopy above, almost in awe at this newfound wisdom. Yes—I should try to whisper with the magic. It wasn’t just breathing.

            Invigorated with this knowledge, I forced myself to stand. I didn’t care that it hurt my knees, and my elbows, and every bone in my body. I had to master this.

            My legs shook as I turned and faced a nearby maple tree. After a deep breath, I shuffled over to it. One branch had three leaves, and I focused all my attention on them.

            The leaves were bright green.

            Which was odd.

            In alternating five-year cycles, the Molar—the second, smaller sun—became larger in the sky. During the five years in which the Molar was large, the summers were oppressive, and everyone knew them as Ozeon’s Curse. No trees were vibrant green when the cursed summer was upon us, not unless the trees were aided by manpower or magic.

            The spirit of the land was clearly here, helping these trees stay healthy.

            Which was a shame—since I had just wantonly killed one.

            But I shook that thought aside and glared at the three leaves. They would be my sole target. Just them.

            After a deep inhale, I imagined exhaling on them—a whisper of death.

            The three leaves withered and blackened right before my eyes, their life essence flowing into me. But then their branch also succumbed to entropy, and I had to actively end my magic before I took another elder tree.

            The essence from the leaves was easier to handle than a full tree and a handful of woodland creatures. While it pained me, I managed to stay on my feet.

            “That worked,” I said with a hint of surprise.

            “Of course it worked,” the Warden sardonically replied. “Or did you doubt me, Rimon-ves?”

            “I’m just… so relieved. So ecstatic. Thank you. For being my teacher.”

            The Warden laughed again, haughty and dismissive. “I’m not teaching you. I’m doing this for my sole entertainment. To thank me would be foolish on your part.”

            “I would’ve perished to the bladekeeper back in the Scarlet Lantern had you not instructed me,” I whispered, staring at the dead leaves. “And just now… I probably would’ve killed myself by absorbing too much life essence, since I didn’t know what to do.”

            “Tsk. Simple matters. A mere drop of knowledge in a vast ocean of your ignorance.”

            “A single drop is worth more than gold when you’re in a desert,” I replied. “You’ve helped me more than I think I could ever repay you. So, please. Accept my thanks. Even if you taunt and deride me, I consider you an ally.”

            The Warden didn’t reply.

            I took his silence as an acceptance. While I knew, at some level, the Warden was sinister in nature, that didn’t necessarily mean our goals weren’t aligned. For whatever reason, the Warden wanted me to succeed, and for that, I was truly grateful.

            Alone, and in the dark wood, I decided to press on. I couldn’t return to Wist Castle without seeing the spirit of the land. I just couldn’t. I needed to know what had to be done to save the people inside the castle’s walls—even if they didn’t know I was their lord yet.

            I pushed away from the maple tree and stumbled forward, fighting the urge to cry out. Why did the life essence hurt me so badly? Why couldn’t I absorb it? Was it some fault in what I was doing? Or was gathering the life essence akin to eating?

            If I ate too much, too quickly, my stomach would ache. And supposedly, if I ate a gluttonous amount, I would kill myself.

            But if I waited several hours, the food would pass through me. I would keep the nutrients, and discard everything else.

            Would it be the same as with this essence?

            As I pressed on, the breeze would murmur through the leaves, a gentle stirring that seemed tranquil and inviting. Shadows occasionally danced around me, cast by nothing as far as I could tell, their movements a mystery choreographed by the unseen forces of the woods.

            This place was full of magic, it was obvious the moment I entered.

            Actually…

            I thought I would be lost when I entered these woods, since I had never stepped foot in here in my life. But that wasn’t the case. Subtly, with a new sixth sense, I felt the magic and power of this place. The spirit who dwelled here wasn’t far. With each step, I made my way to its lair, directly and without detour.

            Finally, with my legs tingling from prolonged pain, I made it.

            I entered a small clearing in front of a gargantuan tree. It wasn’t like the others around it—its trunk was as a wide as a castle keep itself, so massive that it would be impossible to uproot. Its bark was twisted but somehow patterned, and its branches hung long and heavy with strange purple fruit. It reminded me of a willow, with leaves that occasionally touched the ground.

            When I stumbled closer, away from any tree with which to support my weight, the spirit of the land pulsed with life.

            Small parts of the tree’s roots lifted from the dirt and formed mouths. At least a dozen of them sprouted up near my feet, each twisted into a bizarre mouth-oval. They opened and closed as the spirit spoke to me.

            “Ring Warlock,” the little root-mouths said, each speaking together, each with their own voice, like a whole chorus of individuals was here in the clearing with me. “You are not the mortal I know—you are not Garrain.”

            I wiped sweat from my forehead. “No. I am Rimon, the new lord of Wist Castle.”

            “Disgusting,” one root said—individually.

            Three others said, in unison, “Another human has come to disrespect us.”

            “Leave this place,” the rest of the root-mouths said. “You’re not welcome here.”

            I held up a shaky hand. “Wait, please, mighty spirit. I desperately need your help.” After I gulped down some air, I continued. “I know that Garrain angered you, but I’m here to make amends. I won’t be like Garrain—I’m going to be better than him.”

            “Heh,” the Warden whispered. “This is why I’m amused by you. Better than him? Those are lofty goals. But can you convince the spirit to listen? It’s your first real test to see if you have greatness in you.”

            I ignored the Warden and focused on the spirit in front of me. I didn’t even glance down at the root-mouths, I just focused on the colossal tree trunk. “Please, spirit of the land. Give me this chance to prove I mean what I say.”

Chapter Eleven

“There are only three ingredients for greatness—vision, courage, and willpower.

Vision, to forge a new path; courage, to take it; willpower, to see it through to the end.”

- A quote from ‘The Teachings of Shoki’

            “We are known as Mori, Spirit of the Mountain Pass,” the root-mouths all said together. “We are not just a random passing spirit, but one descended of these lands. We care for the trees, and the earth, and everything at the mountain’s feet.”

            I took a moment to absorb all that information.

            We?

            Was Mori more than just a single tree?

            I slowly knelt on one knee and bowed my head deeply. “My apologizes, Mori-nox, Spirit of the Mountain Pass. I should’ve conducted myself with my respect. I wasn’t aware you watched over this place.”

            The great tree moved its branches, forming a lattice canopy, a barrier through which only the bravest stars dared twinkle.

            “We are children of dayvu—titans of light,” Mori’s many mouths said.

            More roots popped out of the dirt, some as large as my head, some as small as my fingers. They, too, twisted into mouth shapes until there were at least three dozen in the clearing.

            “Trees grow in the daylight created by our mothers and fathers,” all of Mori’s mouths said. “The Ring Warlocks are prisoners of the felheen, our eternal enemies. We know, if you had your way, you would kill us all, and soak this place in shadow.”

            “That’s not true,” I said as confidently, but respectfully, as I could. “While I wield the power of a felheen, I’m not beholden to him. I care little about the feud between the light and the dark—I’m more concerned about protecting my family, and my new home.”

            I had never had a home I had called my own before.

            The realization struck me as I had formed the words and spoken them. Even though the Scarlet Lantern had been the place of my birth, and where I had lived my whole life, it hadn’t been mine. I had been the property of it.

            Now things were different. Wist Castle was mine. The people here were my responsibility.

            And while I had only been here for a single day, I wanted to make things right. If this place was to be a real home—one I would be proud of—then I had to do whatever it took to make it that way.

            “Garrain tried to kill us with poison,” one root-mouth said.

            Five more of Mori’s mouths spoke together. “He wanted us out of these woods, and even set fire to the trees.”

            “If you are the new lord, then you have inherited his vile crimes,” the rest of the roots yelled, angry and loud.

            Mori didn’t mention that I had killed a tree in the woods, and I wondered if the spirit knew. I suspected Mori would be aware, but perhaps killing a single tree wasn’t considered a crime.

            I stood, my chest tight. “I didn’t realize Garrain had done that.”

            “Since then, we have strangled his farms and weakened his soil, but that isn’t enough.”

            Some of the smaller root-mouths echoed, “Isn’t enough.”

            “Is there any way for me to repair what he’s done?” I asked. “Make reparations?”

            That responsibility shouldn’t have fallen to me, but if I inherited the castle, I supposed I inherited even the debts of the estate as well.

            “We demand a sacrifice,” the root-mouths said as one. “We want the life of one of your people. We want blood to nourish our trees!”

            No.

            I couldn’t allow that. What kind of precedent would I set if my first course of action was to start sacrificing people from my castle? Although, I wouldn’t mind sacrificing Garrain’s eldest son…

            “I know someone I need to execute,” I darkly muttered.

            “Unacceptable,” half the mouths of Mori said. “It must be given willingly! If you are the new lord, and if you want the lands to answer to you again, you must prove your heart is here. We don’t want your prisoners—we don’t want your cast offs.”

            The chill of the evening was no longer a comfort. It seemed ominous and foreboding now. And it worried me that the Warden was silent. Was he judging me? Was I somehow failing?

            I glanced down at my right hand, staring at the bandages over my ring. Would I be able to convince the people of Wist Castle they should die for the farms? Of course not. They didn’t know or trust me. The whole point of coming out here was to solve their troubles—to show I was worthy of the ring and all the responsibilities of ruling Wist Castle.

            I flex my hand, my body still hurting from my use of magic.

            But then I had a thought.

            It struck me all at once—a solution to my problem.

            “Mori-nox,” I whispered. “I don’t want to harm my people or my family. Allow my blood to nourish your trees.”

            For a short moment, there was silence.

            Then the root-mouths laughed, awkward but somehow melodious. All of Mori thought this deeply amusing, and the spirit chortled for a long while.

            “You wish to be the sacrifice?” a root-mouth at my feet asked. “A Ring Warlock?”

            With pained movements, I walked forward, toward the gargantuan tree trunk. My steps hurt, but I suspected that agony would soon leave me.

            “I have a special kind of magic,” I muttered as I drew closer to Mori. “I hope you will accept this instead of a life? A spirit of your power should be able to find it useful.”

            Once I was close enough, I undid the bandages on my right hand and used my fingernails to cut a gash of flesh from my right palm. As soon as scarlet blood welled in the creases of the injury, I placed my hand against Mori’s bark.

            “Please, take this life essence as an offering for the all the crimes done to you.”

            I didn’t want it.

            But perhaps a spirit did.

            My blood oozed from my palm and trickled down the bark. After a short while, the red coloration turned silver. My blood glittered in the pale light of the twinkling stars right before it was absorbed into Mori, disappearing as though water poured over sand.

            I took a deep breath.

            My pain was fading.

            The stolen life essence of the bladekeeper, the moss, three birds, an old tree, and hundreds of insects were all leaving my body. And then, there was no agony anymore, just freedom.

            I hadn’t known if this would work, and I was so pleased it had.

            Right before the spirit would suck away my life essence, I jerked away. My palm was smeared with blood, but I was otherwise fine. I quickly wrapped my hand again with the bandages, thankful Yuna had given them to me.

            Now my lie about burning my hand would at least look real when I returned to her with soiled wrappings.

            “What is this?” one of Mori’s root-mouths asked.

            Three more spoke at once. “You have given us essence? In its purest form? That is impossible.”

            “Impossible,” five more mouths echoed.

            I stepped away from the massive tree trunk, my head light, but my body limber. “I told you. My magic is unique. Was that proof enough that I’m different from Garrain? I want your help, Mori-nox. Please. The people of Wist Castle are hungry.”

            The root-mouths around me began to sway in unison. When they spoke again, it was more a song. “In the whisper of leaves, your kindness speaks, a gentle hand, the darkness weeps. Blossoms will appear in morning light, an answer to your dire plight.”

            A new root sprang up next to me.

            “Your fields will grow the finest of food,” Mori’s mouth said. “But you must make an oath to keep these lands close to your heart. If you betray your word, the soil of these mountains will fill with hate and disease, and nothing here will ever grow again.”

            “I’ll do everything in my power to keep these lands safe,” I said.

            The mouths all laughed again, this time more like songbirds. Mori, the great spirit of this land, seemed honestly delighted.

            When I had learned to read and write, the Teachings of Shoki had taught me that spirits were part of the balance of life. The spirits made the world habitable, and without them, we would all suffer and surely perish. It always surprised me, then, whenever people disrespected them. Did human beings just forget these lessons because the spirits were mostly out of sight? Or did humanity have such hubris as to think we no longer needed them?

            I shook away the thoughts. It didn’t matter what others believed. In my territory, I would attempt to befriend and honor the spirits who could help me.

            But I would still get rid of any who wished to do me and mine harm.

            I bowed my head deeply, bending at the waist. “Thank you, Mori-nox. I will make time in the future to visit these woods again.”

            “Safe travels, Rimon-erah,” the many root-mouths said all at once. “We hope the words you speak are true.”

            The spirit had used the honorific erah, which was far too high for someone like me, even as a Ring Warlock. I briefly wondered why, but I didn’t question it.

            The branches overhead parted, flooding the clearing with bright moonlight once again. The root-mouths descended into the dirt, disappearing. That was when I knew it was time to leave.

            As I turned and headed back the same way I came, the dark whisper of the Warden filled my ear.

            “Axraksii told you he didn’t want that essence going to his enemies.”

            The Warden’s tone wasn’t playful, and his words weren’t kind.

            “Is Axraksii going to punish me?” I asked. “I thought he was trapped, and he could only see the world through my eyes.”

            “He is trapped.”

            “Then…” I shrugged. “What could he possibly do? The essence was harming me—I had to get rid of it.”

            “You could’ve given it to a spirit born of felheen,” the Warden stated. “The spirits of the wind and water all would’ve been delighted to receive Axraksii’s gift.”

            The Warden’s words had given me more ideas. I walked faster, energy in each of my steps. “Maybe I should,” I said. “Maybe… that’s how I’ll improve this place.”

            The Warden chortled. “Oh? You think you’ve discovered something useful? You’ll draw spirits here, will you?”

            “I had thought this magical ability was half a curse,” I said, smiling. “But now I understand that I was just limiting myself with doubt. I should’ve been looking for creative solutions from the beginning. This magic is actually a boon—a great gift.”

            “Axraksii is all powerful. Of course his magic would be a great gift. You never should’ve questioned his power.”

            I felt so alive and wonderful. Nothing felt as good as being pain-free. I wanted to run through the trees and make it back to Wist Castle as quickly as possible, but I knew I would trip on the roots and undergrowth if I wasn’t careful.

            “You’re rather happy and arrogant for someone who has angered an all-powerful being,” the Warden said.

            I shook my head. “How do I know that Axraksii is angry? There’s a chance he wouldn’t mind what I’ve done.”

            “I know. And he is.”

            I slowed my pace, if only to mull over that warning. However, I reassured myself with the fact that Axraksii was trapped. What could possibly happen to me?

            Nothing.

            But before I could voice that to the Warden, there was shift in the breeze. It stopped, and an eerie silence descended over the woods. There were no signs of animals, or rustling of the leaves. It was as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to strike.

            My ring pulsed against my skin as the power crept over the ground, growing closer to me.

            “Oh, look,” the Warden said with a laugh. “You have company.”

            “A demon,” I whispered.

Chapter Twelve

“Demons embody not only nature, but emotions.

Fear, hate, spite, contempt—such emotions empower them.”

- A quote from ‘Varinth’s Beginnings, a History Book’

            I had never seen a demon before.

            There had been many tales of them in the Teachings of Shoki, each more terrifying than the last. They were foul monsters who could disguise themselves as humans, and their ultimate goal was to cause as much ruin and mayhem before consuming helpless victims.

            Well, that wasn’t entirely the case. Some demons I had read about wanted vast kingdoms, and sometimes disguised themselves as kings and took over without anyone knowing. But ultimately, they needed to consume humans and spirits in order to survive, which always put them in conflict with everyone but other demons.

            I took in a deep breath and turned on my heel. Just as I could sense Mori, I sensed this demon, and how it was creeping its way toward me.

            Demons had… a different kind of energy about them. They, too, had life essence, but it was twisted, filled with malice, and seemed more potent than a spirit’s.

            I stared into the darkness between trees, waiting for the monster to emerge.

            “Shouldn’t you be fleeing?” the Warden whispered.

            “Better to stand and fight, than live in fear of enemy’s pursuit,” I muttered, quoting Shoki himself.

            “You barely understand your magic. Bold of you to think you can handle this beast.”

            “You said Axraksii was all powerful, didn’t you?” I tensed and then widened my stance, preparing myself for whatever emerged. “I think I have an advantage I can rely on.”

            Despite my bravado, my heart beat twice as fast, and three times as hard. Even taking a breath was difficult, and I wasn’t entirely certain how this encounter would play out.

            The woods grew colder.

            Then the demon was here—just beyond a cluster of trees, hidden away in the darkness, out of my sight. Its raspy breath was quiet, but since the woods around me were silent, I heard every inhale and exhale from the monster’s mouth.

            I waited, never turning my back to the creature.

            “Be careful not to fall for its tricks,” the Warden whispered.

            When it seemed the demon wouldn’t speak, I decided to start this conversation.

            “Show yourself,” I called out to the woods. “I know you’re there.”

            A manic cackling was the only reply. It was the laughter of something sinister and deeply amused. Again, I waited. My magic was devastating, and now that I was unburdened by additional essence, I wasn’t at all afraid of giving this monster a demonstration.

            “I’m the new Ring Warlock of Wist Castle,” I said. “My name is Rimon. If you have business with me, state it. Otherwise, I suggest you be on your way.”

            “You’re rather arrogant for a human,” the demon finally replied in a masculine voice. His words gleeful, I practically heard him smiling.

            I shook my head. “You have it wrong. I was only here to meet the spirit of the land.”

            “I know. I’ve been watching you since you step foot in these woods.” The demon laughed again, but he never drew closer. “You think you can trapse around wherever you please? You’re in for a few surprises.”

            “Why don’t you come say that to my face?” I taunted.

            The beast barked out a laugh this time. “Didn’t you hear me? I’ve been watching you, Rimon-glot. I saw your magic fell that tree.”

            The honorific glot was old. It was used in history books to refer to people who were burdens, or someone who needed to be executed for the betterment of the whole. Vagabonds, interlopers, or foreigners who couldn’t speak our language were often referred to with the honorific glot.

            It was strange that this demon decided to use such a term for me.

            “What’s your name?” I asked. “I gave you mine.”

            “I am Vinaru. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

            I had not.

            “He’s a hunter demon,” the Warden said, clearly entertained. “He stalks the forests and woods, hunting whatever he deems worthy. Once he defeats his quarry, he crushes their skull, steals their teeth, and consumes their essence to add to his strength. This is a demon who is empowered by fear and panic.”

            I shivered as I thought back to the Teachings of Shoki. All demons were tied to negative thoughts and emotions. It was different for each demon, and when they were in the presence of such emotions they were tied to, they grew stronger. A demon who sought sadness might linger around an orphanage, and a demon who craved grief might stalk the sick rooms around temples.

            “You’re a hunter demon,” I said, repeating the Warden’s words. “You’ve come looking for worthy prey.”

            “Oh—I’m impressed you know of me,” Vinaru said, the smile never leaving his words.

            Which meant he couldn’t hear the Warden, either. It was just me.

            Vinaru chortled. “For a child born in a brothel, you’re well informed.”

            I caught my breath.

            This demon knew where I had been born? For some reason, it unnerved me that the creature had such knowledge—even though it wouldn’t help him.

            “He’s rattling you,” the Warden said in a playful voice, like a child teasing another. “If you become too upset, you might inadvertently make him stronger.”

            I hated the fact that Vinaru was swaddled in darkness. Unable to see him, I was at a major disadvantage.

            “Do you have business with me?” I asked. “If not, I don’t see the point of this conversation.”

            “I do have business with you, Ring Warlock. I see you’re out here, all alone, and barely in control of your magic. How could I pass up this opportunity to steal your ring?”

            “My ring?” I tightened my hands into fists.

            Vinaru hissed a laugh. “Of course, your ring. They say it’s a direct gateway to the felheen. Nothing is more powerful. And a demon has never worn one… What do you think would happen if I wore yours?”

            I stayed rooted in spot, but my desire to put distance between me and this demon grew with each passing moment. While I didn’t know what would happen if a demon wore one of these rings, I knew it wouldn’t be anything good.

            And the Warden didn’t supplement my lack of knowledge in this field. He remained quiet, but somehow a presence at the edge of my thoughts, watching this entire interaction.

            However, running wasn’t an option.

            “If you want the ring—come and take it from me,” I said, half shouting.

            The demon didn’t move.

            When the wind rushed between the trees, it was practically an angry howl. The world wanted us to fight.

            Then I heard something strange. It sounded like a string being pulled taut, and wood straining. But before my mind could construct an accurate mental picture, the whoosh of an arrow filled the woods around me.

            Pain flared through my arm and I stumbled backward, completely taken aback by the arrow that whistled out of the darkness. It grazed my shoulder, cutting a furrow through my flesh. With gritted teeth, I sucked in air and grabbed at my injury. Blood wept down my arm as I slammed my back into the nearby tree.

            Vinaru was in human form! And he was carrying a bow…

            When I heard the strain of the bowstring a second time, my heart hammered. I quickly stepped around the tree trunk a mere second before the thunk of an arrow struck it. Hidden behind the tree, I waited, the pain in my injury fading to the back of my mind.

            “He wants you to run,” the Warden playfully said.

            I really didn’t have any way to deal with someone armed with a bow. At least, not at the moment. I had used my magic twice, and in both instances, my range was limited. It was more an aura around me, not something I could project.

            And I supposed Vinaru knew this. Which was why he refused to get close.

            Another thunk of an arrow, but this one was followed by a crack. Something tung my shoulder, and I leapt away from the tree.

            To my horror, the arrow had been shot with such power that the tip of the arrowhead was poking through the tree itself, the trunk now splintered. The demon’s might was far beyond a normal human’s.

            Now my shoulder was bleeding from a shallow puncture wound.

            Supposedly, when a demon was in the shape of a human, it was far weaker than it could be. If Vinaru transformed, I had no doubt the beast could rend a tree in half without much thought.

            I only had two options. Either, I had to run, and make it back to the castle, or I needed to close the distance between us, so I could use my magic.

            “The night has forsaken me,” I muttered as I shook my head. Then I turned on my heel and dashed through the trees, weaving back and forth as I went.

            “Running?” The Warden made a snorting noise. “I didn’t think you’d pick this.”

            After I went for a few moments, I felt Vinaru move. He, too, was running—in pursuit of me, following my trail. He was frightening fast. Much faster than me, and if he wanted, this chase would be over in an instant. But that was what I wanted.

            I kept going forward until I spotted a small moonlit clearing up ahead. I wove between the trees, hastening my steps toward it. That was when Vinaru also quickened his step. If he caught me in the clearing, it would all be over—his arrows would land true, no doubt in my mind.

            But right before I reached the clearing, I grabbed a trunk and swung my body all the way around, until I was facing in the opposite direction, and maintaining most of my momentum. I ran back toward Vinaru, who had yet to realize I had shifted directions.

            However, it was still dark in the woods, and I wasn’t entirely certain where he was.

            So in a desperate attempt to kill him with my magic, I activated my ability to its fullest extent. My second breath spread between the trees, and the magic of Axraksii killed everything it touched. Four trees withered and shrunk. A family of rabbits who had burrowed underground all ceased to be. A swarm of sleeping sawflies were snuffed out in an instant.

            And a tiny amount of the demon was caught in my sphere of death. His life essence was far more powerful—and painful—than anything else I had experienced. With a groan, I crashed into the detritus, my chest aching, my teeth clenched so tightly I thought I might break them.

            But hadn’t gotten all of the demon. Vinaru had screamed and quickly darted away before his entire life was mine.

            While I was on the ground, I sensed him backing away—farther and farther.

            Then the demon stopped.

            “Rimon-glot,” Vinaru hissed, no longer smiling. “You’re a child masquerading as an adult. A pretender! You stole that magic, and you have no idea how to use it. I’ll be the one to end you. As the moon and darkness as my witnesses—it’ll be my fangs that pierce your heart.”

            Then the demon continued to flee.

            I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t.

            Instead, while lying on my side, I just smiled. First off, a demon was now running from me, which was surreal. Second, while I had killed several trees, and almost the demon, the pain of all that life essence wasn’t as bad as it had been before. These were things worth celebrating.

            Unfortunately, I was still crumpled on the ground, not as dignified as I would’ve liked, trying to recover from the use of my devastating magic. The dead trees around me lost their leaves in chunks, and they rained down, spiraling in the moonlight, dancing like ghostly phantoms celebrating my fall.

            “You almost killed him,” the Warden said with a laugh. “How amusing. I do love watching you, Rimon-ves. Every day has been a delight.”

            I coughed and then wiped away some of the dead leaves from my body. “Glad I could entertain you.”

            “He was rather weak for a demon, though. I can’t wait to see what happens when you meet one of the ancient ones.”

            I really didn’t want to think of that at the moment. Instead, I focused all my willpower into standing. Once on my feet, I stumbled my way to the edge of the woods, thankful I never felt Vinaru following me.

            Then, the Eye lifted over the distant horizon, chasing away the cold darkness of night.

            “I need to get back to the castle,” I whispered.

READ THE NEXT CHAPTERS HERE.