After the conversation with Batbayar, Argrave managed to get a few hours of sleep… sleep made harder by knowing the most pivotal part of the plan would come in twenty-four hours. Less, given the time that had elapsed. Batbayar evidently decided that time was of the essence. His conscious mind welcomed it, but his subconscious mind wanted far more time to rest and prepare for this grand undertaking.

On the next morning, something arrived when Argrave walked out of his tent—a large black bird with a huge wingspan, filtering through the trees in search of Argrave. Orion regarded the bird cautiously, almost viewing it as an enemy, but Argrave walked towards it and held his right arm out. Nikoletta must’ve ridden day and night to arrive and speak to Elenore so quickly. Its claws gripped him a lot more delicately than the average bird might’ve… but then, a druidic bond would have human mannerisms when controlled by a human.

There was a bundle tied to the bird’s legs—one on each side, so as to balance out its weight. They were books, two of them, with nothing else provided in the way of context. Argrave had demanded it be that way, in case Erlebnis somehow had a way to intercept messages.

Argrave freed the two books, taking them in hand. With that, the bird—in truth, Nikoletta through her druidic bond—nodded at him and departed. He hadn’t even been able to give his thanks.

“What is it?” Orion questioned.

Argrave looked around before opening them, but Onychinusa was preoccupied talking with Anneliese about something. Satisfied that Erlebnis’ champion was distracted, he opened the books up, reading the footnotes left by the ancient and departed writer. When he got midway through the explanation, he inhaled sharply.

[Worldstrider], Argrave read the spell’s name. An A-rank spell of precise teleportation.

Argrave had been confident in retrieving this tome of shamanic magic from the ruins of the dryads, but now that he had one in hand he felt a great relief. He hadn’t expected Elenore to have any shamanic worth delivering, but this tome alone was half the reason shamanic magic couldn’t be discounted. If he hadn’t been constrained by travel times, movement speeds… he could’ve achieved much more than he had. Days and days he’d walked, run, hiked… and days and days he’d wasted. No amount of money could buy time. This spell was the closest thing.

The other wasn’t so grandly useful, but it still drew his eye: [Resonance]. It was a C-rank spell that helped the caster track down other spirits. Though basic shamanic magic, it was the basics that formed the foundation of the grander stuff. Even still, one needed spirits to even cast the spell, so it was useless of yet. In the long term, though, this spell would be incredibly important.

But even in the short term… I can make use of this. If I have the spell ahead of time, I can learn it. Or given the disparity in talent, maybe Anneliese would be best with these. She can use A-rank spells already, after all, unlike me. Argrave closed the book. All we need are spirits.

His gaze fell upon Onychinusa pointedly, who still talked with Anneliese even now. His queen noticed him—and his annoyance at their closeness, perhaps—for she left words of departure to the ancient elf and then walked to Argrave. He didn’t miss the blatant displeasure on the ancient elf’s face, but she turned around and looked out into the forest and distanced herself from them.

“What are we doing now?” Anneliese asked as she came to stand by him.

“Getting an update on how the elven gods fare, getting an excuse for a departure, and then seeing if we can actually get what I wanted.” Argrave handed her the books discreetly, and she accepted them knowing their importance by how he looked. “Hold these for me, would you? Let’s go. You can read them if you’re bored…”

#####

“I’ll cover for you, but your excuse before the myriarchs was shoddy,” Altan told him flatly. “If you’re gone for long, people will begin to suspect.”

Argrave had told the myriarchs that loose ends remained untied with the centaurs. Given the threat another enemy might pose, it was justified enough to allow Argrave a little freedom in his activities.

“The bulk of my guard is remaining here,” Argrave shook his head. “They won’t be suspicious of a thing.”

Altan nodded, crossing her arms. “And when you’re back?”

“I’ll help you establish leadership,” Argrave confirmed, though he didn’t intend to tell her whose leadership he thought most fitting.

The would-be usurper of elven independence nodded again in confirmation, then walked off to attend to whatever it was she had to attend to. Argrave jogged back where Anneliese and Orion waited.

“That was the last of our ordeals among these woodland dwellers. Will we proceed alone, Your Majesty?” queried Orion. He had been somewhat briefed on the plan. “I know Vasilisa and the others aren’t at their prime, having expended their magic, but…”

Argrave nodded, patting his brother’s shoulder. “Just us. Even if Rowe and Castro both came along somehow, if Onychinusa wanted to fight us… she’d win. She knows every spell I do and then some, and she already has what we’re trying to get: shamanic magic.”

With those hardly promising words, Orion gave a nod of concession.

Anneliese’s gaze was distant and dreary, and it took a concerned touch from Argrave to bring her back to attention. She nodded decisively. “I am ready for this. But I read that spell tome, [Worldstrider]… or tried, more accurately. It is different from any other school of spell, Argrave. I couldn’t…”

Argrave stared at her for a moment. He’d given her most of the day free to examine what Nikoletta had delivered. If she was expressing trouble, then Argrave didn’t think highly of his chances.

So much that needs to get done… and so damned little time, Argrave thought internally, but only grabbed Anneliese’s wrist. “All you can do is try. Now, let’s go.”

#####

Argrave, Anneliese, and Orion explained their brief departure to the rest of their group in unclear terms, and then went to join Batbayar at the edge of the woods. Onychinusa already waited there, sitting on a root quietly a distance away from the myriarch. The man to lead them stood with his hands before him like some sort of bodyguard.

“Everything set?” Batbayar asked.

“Yes,” Argrave said succinctly.

The myriarch nodded, looking behind and around them for anyone watching or listening. Once he was satisfied, his red eyes scanned their party. He gave a final nod, then walked out towards the forest. “Come.”

“If only I had the time for that…” Argrave adjusted his breastplate.

He noticed the sunburst with snake heads—his symbol. It was meant both as a sign of his prestige… and of his responsibility to protect all beneath the sun.

A brief wave of powerful emotion assailed him, all so varied and different it was impossible to place one in particular. But the crux of it… it was bitter resistance to his dying breath. He let it wash over him, and then followed after, his blood echoes leaving faint maroon trails behind him in his haste.

#####

Their walk through the Bloodwoods was a long one, made more difficult by the still-disturbed roots. Along the way the roving bands of Kirel Qircassia’s shattered forces sometimes reared their heads, and Batbayar made short work of them with powerful spells. He was one of the stronger spellcasters Argrave had encountered in terms of magic capacity, but as Argrave recalled his A-rank ascension wasn’t impressive for anything beyond moving quickly.

Nevertheless, they came to a place that was familiar to Argrave even with the forest turned upside down as it was. This rested mainly in the fact of the thousands of arrows pierced in the trunks of the trees nearby. The trees looked like pincushions. Not all of the arrows were deep, and not all of them had stuck, but each had tassels attached to the end of them that varied in color and shape.

“The younglings come here,” Batbayar explained as Anneliese looked curiously. “This is a proving ground for them. When they can draw a bow back far enough to leave an arrow in the tree… we take them to the dryads,” the myriarch explained. “There, they have a proper bow made for them in the dryad way.” He pointed to an arrow with a blue tassel, unadorned. “That’s mine. I still remember it.”

Argrave’s eyes were drawn to the deep gray mist between these trees. His Brumesingers crawled out of his coat and spread out along the ground. They seemed utterly fascinated by this fog, and he could see their golden eyes flashing in a way they never had before.

Before Argrave could think on it more, Batbayar took a deep breath and sighed, then walked in front of the four of them. “We’re going through the dryads’ path. Wear these blindfolds. I will escort you from behind.”

Argrave and Anneliese took the untarnished white cloths without question, but Orion hesitated while Onychinusa didn’t take one at all.

“Is this necessary?” the ancient elf questioned.

“If you want to keep your eyes,” Batbayar nodded. “Only those blessed by the dryads once before can pass without guidance. And your eyes will be lost if you witness that within the mist.” His gaze grew distant.

Orion seemed to debate if he did want to keep his eyes, but then gave a solemn nod and put the blindfold on before anyone else. Argrave and Anneliese, too, trusted Batbayar and wrapped them around their heads.

“What is this ceremony for?” Anneliese tilted her head in curiosity. “In your culture, I mean.”

“It’s for the sake of blind obedience,” Batbayar answered. “Quite literally blind obedience, Queen Anneliese. Here, a child is taught to trust their superiors… and the adult is taught to take charge of those who rely on you for sight and vision. Life in this forest hinges on discipline and loyalty, and so we take care to foster it from a young age.”

As Onychinusa finally put on the blindfold, Batbayar explained, “Take them off only when I say explicitly to take them off. Not when I say, ‘we’re here,’ or anything else of the kind. Listen closely, follow my guidance… none of you are children, so simply don’t do anything childish. Nothing in there can hurt you.”

When everyone declared they were ready, Batbayar stood behind the four of them and gently shepherded them along. He held Anneliese’s arm, but even despite that Argrave was uneased. He felt his feet might hit a snag at any moment… but instead the path was smooth, and though he started when his feet set upon stone he decided to trust Batbayar.

Things were strange within the mist. He felt like he was touching something… in fact, he was almost sure of it. His whole body was wreathed in what felt like spiderwebs. That notion gave him shivers as he questioned what might be crawling across him, but he trusted Batbayar’s words and his own experience of the game.

“This place isn’t right,” Onychinusa said, distress in her voice.

“Remain calm, and keep walking,” came Batbayar’s soothing voice from behind.

The tan elf didn’t say anything more during the journey, but he could hear from her breathing she was ill at ease.

“How much longer?” Onychinusa insisted almost desperately.

“It’ll be okay, Onychinusa,” Anneliese assured her calmly.

“It will be. Not much longer,” Batbayar kept his in-control tone even as one of them panicked. Perhaps he was used to this.

The myriarch took them on a turn, then changed directions once again. He was talking more frequently, giving commentary on where they were. Though the suffocating touch still persisted around Argrave, Onychinusa’s distress was a grounding distraction.

After minutes dealing with this, Argrave felt that presence disappear. Onychinusa didn’t seem to notice, her breathing still quick and irregular.

“And now… you may remove your blindfold,” Batbayar said.

Argrave took his off, blinking as he adjusted to the returned light. Though there was a vast stone courtyard before him, his eyes were drawn to Onychinusa as she threw her blindfold off and knelt on the ground, her breathing tight. She held her hand to her chest as Anneliese came to stand beside her. Her hands hovered near the panicking woman, obviously afraid to touch her because of the fact her A-rank ascension [Life Cycle] might eat away the woman’s magic flesh.

“Are you okay, Onychinusa?” Anneliese could only ask, eventually retrieving a cloth from her pockets so that she might rub her back consolingly.

“I’m fine,” the elf said. “I am fine. I am,” she insisted, almost convincing herself. “Don’t…” she shook her head. “It’s just… that was just like… like those years, those years that I… that I was…”

“Those years that you were what?” Anneliese insisted.

Onychinusa stopped breathing entirely and turned her head. “Don’t touch me,” she said quietly.

Anneliese stood straight and retracted her touch, though the concern didn’t disappear from her face. Argrave watched all this, trying to do his best to look—more than that, to feel—disaffected. To distract himself, his eyes wandered to this new place Batbayar had taken them to.

Before them was a vast courtyard, framed by large structures of stone. There were four thick pillars in each corner of the square pathway, each of them rising ten feet before revealing an elven statue. Not that of a wood elf, either—indeed, all of the monuments had the same long, floppy ears that Onychinusa did. It was a wonder that none had commented on that resemblance back at camp, but perhaps her antisocial behaviors had a good side effect after all.

At the foot of each of these pillars, small trees budded. They weren’t just trees, though. Argrave stared, but as he did his Brumesingers scampered out, rushing towards these trees. Argrave stepped after them cautiously, but before he realized it they walked before the trees and yipped, almost as if demanding something.

“What the hell are you guys…?” Argrave muttered quietly.

One of the trees his foxes protested at abruptly shifted its bark, revealing a green, fleshy, and decidedly feminine face. It looked down at the yipping foxes, regarding them curiously. Argrave wondered just what had gotten into them, and so walked towards the first dryad to reveal itself.