“You think I’m related to the Star?” Dallion asked.

Of all the things that he expected to be accused of, this was the last. If the dryad was an otherworlder, maybe there was some logic to link Dallion to the Star. Or maybe it was because of Lux? A crackling familiar did tend to give the wrong impression to people, which was why Dallion’s guild mentor had asked him to keep it secret for as long as possible.

“Because of my familiars?”

“Because of the Star item.”

“Star item?”

“Just because it’s not in the realm doesn’t mean I can’t sense it. One of the advantages of being a guardian.”

Nil, any idea what he’s talking about?

That would be that annoying knife you brought with you, dear boy.

The knife? Dallion wondered. After the realm invasion attempt, he had all but forgotten about it. Initially, he intended to put it away somewhere, but for some reason he had slid it in his holster boot. There was no reason for him to have done so. The item was a hollow shell and nowhere as special or efficient as the other weapons he had. At the same time, it was still made on Earth.

“You’ve seen it before?”

“There was a time when I considered myself blessed to have. Those even with a trace of magic, were considered important enough to be invited to the hall. Not even the Sword Marshals were there, but I was. I saw the star on several occasions. I felt the item that you now have. So, tell me, how are you related to the Star?”

“We’ve crossed paths a few times so far.” Dallion summoned the pocketknife. Since it was in contact with his skin within the holder boot, it appeared in his hand identical to its real world form. “I found this in a pyramid in the south. It’s from the world I came from.”

The dryad stood up. Dallion could see clusters of pity forming within him.

“The Star said the same.” He looked at the knife Dallion was holding. “A knife that you could hold in your pocket,” the guardian quoted. “That was the explanation given. Of all the knowledge that was offered, that was the one item the Star didn’t wish to part with. Now you have it.”

If this was a trial, Dallion wouldn’t like his chances.

“You know I’m not the Star.” Dallion unsummoned the item. “I’m not a follower.”

“You don’t seem to be, although it’s difficult to tell. Both humans and Star-spawn are good at deceiving, too good at times.”

“So, what do we do now?”

“I expect you’ll go back to the last temple and I’ll remain here.”

“We’re not going to fight?”

“You’re a human with empathy. If a Moon considers you worthy of that, who am I to say otherwise? Maybe history will repeat itself, but that is now for me to decide. In this new world, I’m not even a piece on the board.”

“How is history repeating?” Dallion tried his best to remain calm, but deep inside, he was thrilled. He had been asking questions about the Eighth Moon and the world’s history for so long that he never expected to learn anything. Now, it seemed that he’d finally get an answer. By all current logic, he had to receive an answer. He had the level—in any event, his level was higher than the guardian’s—the empathy trait, not to mention that he had finally fulfilled his promise. There was no logical reason for the dryad to refuse.

“If you don’t know already, there’s nothing I can tell you.”

“I know some things,” Dallion quickly said, feeling the answers slipping from his fingertips. “I know the Star brought machines that this world had never seen. I know he tried to conquer the world several times.” He paused for a moment. “I know he wanted to become a Moon.”

Upon hearing that, the dryad laughed.

“Go, claim your prize.” Briz waved a hand. “I won’t stop you.”

“Tell me about the past!” Dallion took a step forward. The moment he did, roots shot up from the ground, forming a wall between him and the dryad.

Naturally, he had no intention of giving up just like that. Splitting into a dozen instances, Dallion rushed around the wall with the intention of continuing the conversation. Upon doing so, though, he found that the dryad was no longer there.

Damn it! Dallion thought. Lux, lift me up!

The entire temple came into view. Dallion focused, then split up into instances in an attempt to find the guardian. The effort proved futile. Neither splitting, layer vision, or even music sense provided any hints. One can surmise that the dryad had gone into the temple, but going in to find him was ill advised. Dallion had half a mind to try his luck anyway, but the amount of experience he had earned in the wilderness kept him back. Going in blind was a bad idea, especially after Briz had made a point that he had the power to weaken him to the point that the other guardian might prevent him from seeing the twi-crown.

Crap! Dallion clenched his fists. He was presented with a choice: learn about the past or see the crown. If he hadn’t given his word to the vice guild master in the real world, he could well do both. More than likely Briz knew that, so had put Dallion in an impossible situation.

You really must learn a thing or two about strategy, dear boy, Nil said. You have made great strides on a personal and tactical level, but long term, you’re still hopeless.

“You mean to say I’m not seeing the big picture?”

You’re utterly incapable of doing so. What is more, you’ve no idea how to proceed in order to learn it. At some point, you’ll have to learn if you wish to level up.

There was nothing to say. Dallion didn’t agree with Nil in the least, but it was clear he had lost this round. There was every chance that he learned more in the third sword, but that still didn’t remove the bitter taste of defeat.

“Lux, take me to the temple,” Dallion whispered. “As quickly as possible.”

Less than a minute later, he was floating above the final dryad temple, feeling seriously ill. Nothing had tried to stop him along the way, nothing seemed to attempt to do so here. To a degree, Dallion almost wished they had.

Floating back down, he went to the temple entrance.

“I did as you asked,” he said. “Now it’s time for you—”

The massive door opened, inviting him inside. A vast garden brimming with plants and life could be seen inside, much in contrast to the dead world of the realm. Considering the limitations, this had to be the equivalent to a hero’s welcome. Still, any welcome would end up being a trap. Dallion made sure to split into a dozen instances, then went inside with half of them.

A bouquet of fragrances surrounded him, creating the illusion that he was in another world. This must have been the world during the time of the dryad ascendence. A gentle warmth could be felt, with just a hint of power. Every plant, every twig, every floating spore was carefully controlled, creating a concert of chaotic order. As Dallion walked by, branches blossomed, then grew, becoming fruit he had never seen before.

“A memory of what was.” A dryad emerged from behind a nearby bush—one more echo the guardian created. “I’ve made it to remember happier times.”

“Fancy.”

“You managed to do what I asked. To be honest, I didn’t think that you’d succeed.” Miniature vines spread out from the bush, weaving into a cloak on the dryad’s back. “That was before I learned about your ability to negotiate with cracklings.”

“It’s a skill like any other.” Dallion felt somewhat anxious. “I’m surprised you haven’t tried it after all this time.”

“I’m neither human nor an otherworlder. Ironic, considering that most of the original inhabitants of this realm were. Then again, seeing that one of your guardians is a Sword Marshal, I suspect you have an idea.”

Dallion glanced at his shield. “He must have been quite popular.”

“Not particularly. Mages can do a lot of things, even the weak ones.”

Dallion gritted his teeth. Briz was causing more and more problems.

“Do I get to see the twi-crown?” Dallion asked directly.

“Why now? Come, this way.”

“Just like that? Alright.”

The echo led Dallion through the garden temple, to the main altar. There, a stairwell formed, descending deeper down. Luminescent plants lit the way, glowing like threads of neon. Dallion tore off a piece in one of his instances, half expecting it to fade away. Instead, it kept on glowing just as before.

“I prefer this to torches and light crystals,” the echo said, catching Dallion’s action. “Feels a lot more personal.”

“I didn’t see it in the other sword I visited.”

“I’m sure the guardians there had far more serious problems.”

“Oh? I thought you could talk to each other.”

“Maybe we could.”

Reaching the bottom of the stairwell, Dallion found himself in an oval chamber coated entirely with wood. A block of white crystal rose in the center. The moment the echo stepped near it, the crystal became transparent. That was not all, though.

“There you are,” the echo said. “Our very own twi-crown. You’ll understand that I don’t take it out. Since you said that you only wanted to see it, that shouldn’t be a problem, should it?”

Dallion remained numb. In theory, it could have presented a problem, but given the circumstances, there was a far greater issue staring him in the face: while the crown was there, it was completely gemless.

“What about the skill gems?” Dallion turned to the echo.

“Is that what you were after? If you had told me, you could have avoided that whole battle with the cracklings. Not that I mind. I’m thankful for what you’ve done. Sadly, the gems have been gone for millennia.”

“Someone took them?”

“One of the better kings of the realm. And one of the mediocre ones. Thousands of years is a very long time, even those who share the exact same convictions. After a dozen generations, tensions started to appear. One side or another wasn’t pleased with this or that. At that point, we still had the power to intervene, but it was our decision not to. Rather, it was a decision imposed on us, even if I personally agree with it. Guardians cannot rule an item. They are there to make sure that it remains whole.”

“There was a war between the factions,” Dallion said, knowing where this was going.

“There were hundreds of wars. At one point, one of the leaders convinced me to grant him one zoology gem to prove he was the chosen one and reunite the realm. It worked. For a few hundred years, at least. The second time, one of the mediocre rulers asked that I grant him the herbology gem, to provide crops for his subjects.”

Dallion winced. He could see the idiocy of it all.

“Yes, I thought exactly the same,” the echo agreed. “The cracklings weren’t an issue back then, and us guardians were already creating an abundance of crops in the lands around our temples. The monarch, however, insisted that he have the power to create crops everywhere. The skill was wasted in half a generation.”

So close, Dallion thought. So close, and yet so far away.

There was no logical reason for the king in question to ask for the gem. He didn’t even use it for political gain, or to unite the realm, but out of unfounded fear or selfishness. With that single stupid action, he had deprived Dallion from the ability to potentially end the plague, or at the very least, learn more about it. And to make matters worse, Dallion wasn’t sure that the third sword would be any different. Even if he were allowed to enter it, which wasn’t at all certain, the chances of finding the twi-crown there intact were astronomical. Millennia was a long time, and it was more than likely that some ruler or other had used them for one reason or another.

“Why didn’t you stop them?” Dallion asked.

“I hoped they would prove worthy of wearing the twi-crown and leading the dryads back in the real world. When I learned that our plans for world conquest had failed, and the entire race had been banished, I realized that they would never be able to return. At that point, the crown became nothing more than a vanity item.” The crystal turned opaque again. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No. I’ve seen enough.” Dallion left the realm.

Reality changed, bringing him back to the Icepicker guild. For several seconds, Dallion remained still. Finally, he pulled his hand back from the tip of the sword. A barely noticeable line had emerged near the hilt, moving gone like a single white hair among the corrosion.

“Found what you wanted?” the vice guild master asked. It was certain that he had noticed the change as well, yet chose not to comment on it.

“Yes,” Dallion lied. “I saw exactly what I needed.”

“Good. I’ll tell March you passed by.”