Prompted by es remark, Cali turned towards Leken and scrutinized the primeval one. In response, es brows furrowed, crawling downwards like wooden caterpillars. Silence hung heavy in the air; Cali was the first to speak. “Are you going to state your request?”

The primeval one emitted a spluttering, cough-like noise. “Yes, yes. We were waiting until...” E trailed off. “‘Tis no matter. What have those children told you of the twf and the blight of the Gyntaf?”

“Enough. I know your tree is almost barren, which robs the enclave of new children, that some fear it is dying, and that the whole enclave will follow the Gyntaf’s fate.”

“Then you understand our plight.” There was an ominous creak from Leken’s trunk, as the primeval leaned towards her. “We would have you look at the Gyntaf, discover what afflicts it, and cure it.”

Cali scoffed. “Do you truly expect me to save your people for the answers to a handful of questions? If I can help you, my aid will not be so cheap.” The line was pure melodrama, but uttering it aloud was surprisingly satisfying.

Throughout the glade, leaves began to rustle and whisper, though there was not a hint of a breeze. When the glade was silent again, Leken spoke. “We are in agreement, should you heal the Gyntaf, there is no boon we would not grant. Please, tarry no longer, time is precious.”

Wordlessly, Cali turned and strode towards the passageway. She’d agreed to listen to their request if they answered one question. Their agreement was concluded. Solving the problem, or even attempting to; why bother? If she failed —and she expected to— there was no benefit, and she could think of a few potential complications the attempt might introduce.

Behind her, leaves rustled with frantic energy as if a gale had blown through. Over the din, Leken called after her. “Honoured one, wait. I have heard what that child said, you can use the ancient magics and shape the world to your will. Why will you not help us?”

Not answering was tempting; the yawning tunnel beckoned, promising an easy escape from difficult questions. Yet, not answering would bring problems all its own. If she wanted to be free of this, then she needed to convince them not to involve her. They expected her to be some mysterious ancient being, which meant if she wanted to convince them, she’d have to play the part.

Cali closed her eyes, psyching herself up for the act, then she turned back to Leken and fixed em with a dispassionate stare. “And why should I? I do not expect to succeed; I am no arborist, versed in the health of trees.” In the wake of her remark, the clearing was so quiet that she could hear the sound of her own footfalls, as she advanced on the primeval. “And, even if the Gyntaf tree’s affliction is magical in nature, I do not wish to pay the price required for a cure. For you, who do not understand the principles of formulae construction, it must seem miraculous, as if I can effortlessly make my will manifest upon the world. But every working has a cost.” Throughout, Cali kept her voice cool and level, although, twice she was forced to pause briefly to stifle laughter. It was all so melodramatic; she felt like an actor in one of the shows she’d watched as a kid.

Despite the absurdity, there was more than a kernel of truth to her words. Working magic did enact a cost on her body —the exact nature of which she still needed to investigate. Also, she was hopeless with plants, she’d even managed to kill a cactus. Furthermore, if the Gyntaf tree was powered by Fheadain magic, then, judging by the sheer complexity of the cøras menu, it would be beyond her ability to ken.

“If there is a cost to be paid, let us pay it in your stead.” Leken replied. There had been no hesitation, no rustling of leaves. Such was the primeval’s conviction.

It was possible. Since everyone was robbed of internal magic in the UMC, her father had taught her how to take magic from an external source. The same principle could easily be jury-rigged to use the primeval ones as a source. However, the cost had been a lie, of sorts, a shield to use against the request. A shield to hide the fact that such a working likely lay beyond her skill, to which the only solution was intensive study.

Wooden eyes stared at Cali from all sides, demanding answers that didn’t come. The interminable silence dragged on.

The prospect of studying Fheadhain magic was tantalizing; the formulae had an unparalleled elegance to them, which spoke to the depths of the ancients’ knowledge. Yet, she’d not even confirmed that the tree even held ancient magic, despite Leken’s allusions to such.

Surreptitiously, Cali let her gaze slip past the veil. The glade teemed with formulae; the Gyntaf, even the ground beneath her feet, was saturated with equations that ran into and over one another. The formulae’s presence reassured her that, yes, ancient magics were involved. While she stared, a black box materialized before her eyes, sterile and robotic as the first she’d seen.

Ancient Ruin Discovered - Gyntaf#a16e57n

Experience Earned - 12XP

NEW TIER REACHED

1AP Awarded

If she had any lingering doubts that the ancients were responsible, the box dispelled them, but also reminded her that if she wished to study ancient magic the cøras itself was ever-present. There was no need to bind herself to this pseudo-civilized place for the untold years of study needed to solve their problem. Indeed, to do so would be to make herself their tool; exactly what she had promised herself that she would never be again. If anyone was to be made a tool here, she intended it to be them. And, though they knew of no living kith civilization, they had been rooted to this place; the world was sure to have changed around them. After all, there was that spreiban, Jax was it? Who had supposedly seen kith recently. With that last thought, a plan sprang unbidden to mind.

At last, Cali spoke, and the whole clearing let out a creaking sigh of relief. “It is not a price that you can pay, but...” She paused for dramatic effect, before continuing, “I would be willing to tell you the nature of its affliction. Although, I expect a just return for that knowledge. You must have your people prepare for me supplies for a venture, and as a guide, Jax. I have heard e has a fondness for poking through the ruins of my people.”

At her latest remarks, leaves and branches rustled with urgency, and... a hint of anger? When Leken spoke again es voice was hard as flint. “Honoured one, we are deeply sorry for that one’s transgressions. Had we known that e was violating the sacred sites, we would have put a stop to it immediately. You may punish em, or use em as you desire. As for your offer, we accept. We shall have the children tend to the needs you have voiced as payment for your knowledge. Now please, enlighten us.”

Cali let her vision slip back across the veil; her eyes ate up the banquet of Fheadhain magic spread before her. She circled the Gyntaf tree, looking for abnormalities in the patterns, but came to an abrupt halt, as beneath her feet the ground changed. Instead of the rich earth and soft grass of the glade, her boot had struck something hard. Looking down, she discovered a large tiled area that had been obscured from the glade’s entrance by the Gyntaf’s trunk. The tiles beneath her feet were of various colours and seemed to be arranged with artistic intent. A mosaic?

Letting her gaze take in the entire artwork, Cali found her vision gravitating towards the top of the piece, where a matching set of eyes, silver —as her own— stared back at her. The face, the skin— it was as if Cali were staring at a portrait of herself. “The Fheadhain.” She muttered under her breath. No wonder the spreiban believed her to be one; the resemblance was uncanny. She’d have thought it magic, yet no threads of magic clung to the tiles.

It was a mystery for later. Suppressing her surprise and curiosity, Cali returned her attention to the Gyntaf. Even in the dead branches of the canopy, the formulae were teeming, folded over one another in a complex weave. Teasing apart any meaning from such a working was an undertaking far beyond the scope of what she’d agreed to. For a working this complex, she’d hoped to find some macro-level problem, a rip or tear in the woven pattern, but none could be found; even amongst the branches where the tree was withered and dead, the magic was pristine.

Cali raised a hand to her forehead, and in the process, something amid the roots caught her eye. There, threads of magic flowed into the tree from below, not unlike the threads she’d discovered coming off the cøras menu. But, these threads were worn, frayed, and tattered, while those of the cøras had been pristine.

Fixating on the threads, Cali discovered a thin formula encircling each one, simple enough to understand. From its elegance and design, she surmised it was as old as the rest of the working, but its function was to eat away at the other formulae. Thus, the frayed cords, and likely the Gyntaf’s affliction, were by design. Although, whether this was the work of one ancient sabotaging another’s project or the intention of its creator, Cali couldn’t say. A cold shiver ran down Cali’s spine as she recalled the hunger of the Vold. Could it somehow be responsible?

Goosebumps played across Cali’s skin, and her heart was palpitating abnormally fast; still, she had an answer for the primeval ones. She could uphold her end of the bargain, and get what she needed to leave, find kith —civilization— and forget about both the weirdness of this jungle, and problems of the enclave.

Cali finished her loop around the Gyntaf and returned to stand before Leken. “The threads of magic deep within the Gyntaf’s roots are being eaten away; that is the source of your problem.” Unable to help her curiosity, Cali continued. “Are there other enclaves? Have they experienced anything similar?” If the phenomenon was widespread that would seem to increase the likelihood of the designed-failure hypothesis. Although, it wouldn’t really narrow things down. To make an informed hypothesis, what she needed was a counterexample, a healthy tree.

“Yes, there are other enclaves, but to contact them is taboo. We are each responsible for a part of the heartwood; to transgress upon the domain of the others... that would be unthinkable.”

Cali shook her head. What did she care, she was leaving. None of this was going to be her problem anyways. “I’ve fulfilled my end of our bargain.” She heard herself say.

“Yes. Yes, you have.” Leken sighed sadly. “I only wish... No. You have done what you will. You have our thanks, honoured one. We shall speak to the children and ensure your wishes are carried out. Now, we shall return to our contemplation and hope your insight has revealed a solution.”

“Good luck.” Cali turned and walked towards the archway. As she neared the mouth of the tunnel, her words sparked an idea: luck. If she imbued the Gytaf with enough luck, it would likely bear fruit again, at least until the magic was eaten away completely. But, there were too many risks to using it, especially so soon after that first dose. She couldn’t risk the UMC tracking it, which meant the luck was staying in the bottle, even if that meant condemning the enclave, and the spreiban, to a slow extinction. A pang of guilt lanced through her, but Cali battered it aside by reminding herself that luck would only be a temporary solution anyways. Besides, their fate wasn’t her responsibility.

As she took her first step into the tunnel, a pit of dread took root in her stomach. Her mouth went dry. Foolish, she could just run straight through, nothing to worry about; it had worked the first time. As she started to take a second step, a black box popped into existence directly before her.

I wouldn’t do that if I were you, idiot.

You were lucky to not be devoured the first time.

Cali back-pedalled a few steps, heart racing in her chest. Why didn’t you warn me when I went through the first time then? She thought back at it, amazing even herself at the intensity of her anger.

I...

I didn’t think it would be interested in you. It’s most curious. You might be even more interesting than I thought

Cali groaned. Even when it was being helpful, the box was infuriating. Oh well, she’d just need to find a different way out, unless she wanted to chance her luck again? She had plenty of that after all. With a grin, Cali looked at the cøras menu she’d been ignoring during the Gyntaf inspection.

Her grin vanished. How the fuck had she burned though so much luck? She’d had more than a Mega Phillium worth of luck earlier, and yet, somehow, she was down to single digits again. She eyed the tunnel again with trepidation. Just how lucky had she been to make it though? Using the tunnel again was not a good option. Instead, she could either jump or climb the outside of the tree back to the stairs. Of the two, jumping had more downsides. 1) There was a risk of missing the enclave on the way down, and 2) all the spreiban would be watching her float. The last thing she needed was the entire enclave witnessing a ‘miracle’. Plus, Passi and Fen were waiting for her at the top of the stairs.

Turning her attention back to the black box, she thought at it. Will climbing the outside be safe?

It should be.

I’ll be most curious to find out.

Should be? She thought back, but there was no further response from the box. Damn it. Fine, she’d climb. Although, she resolved that if she felt even the faintest brush of the Vold’s hunger, she’d let go and fall without hesitation.

Cali traced the formulae for «clinging webs» in the air and completed a short chant. Golden webs of magic wove themselves around her gloves and boots. Behind her, she could hear the excited pattering of leaves. Fuck it, they already knew she could work the ancients’ magic, thanks to Passi’s blabbering. With any luck, she’d be leaving before that became a problem.

Cali hopped onto the side of the tree. A sharp pain shot out from her ribs as she climbed to the landing where the two spreiban awaited. Fuck, she’d need a couple days to recover before her venture into the jungle was at all advisable. Behind her, the eyes of every primeval watched her with childlike awe. Her skin prickled with discomfort. She could hardly wait until she was out of sight.