B3 Chapter 281: Re:Depths, pt. 2

Kaius watched the stone that Kenva held tightly gripped in her bloodstained hands. Under the firelight from the nearby braizer it really did gleam like solidified blood—rich and oxygenated.

At first he’d thought that Kenva’s great secret was that the Hiwiann could create the bloodstones. Some ritual, or other edifice, that had them develop a latent blood magic unique to their culture.

It wouldn’t be the first ancient legacy of such a kind. The dwarves, with their mythic chanting that could reshape stone like clay, and the weather calming abilities of the fishfolk who were supposed to live around some distant isles off the eastern coast of Vaastivar were two that he’d heard of. Strange powers, supposedly holdovers from times long forgotten. Almost certainly pre-integration, considering Ekum himself had said that his world possessed magic long before the system. He doubted they still existed as wholly separate—it was difficult to imagine something as all-encompassing as the system struggling to work with whatever primitive rites that had been divined before its arrival.

When he’d asked, the ranger had quickly disabused him of that notion. Judging by the stark look on her face, he’d likely accidentally trodden on some toes by suggesting the bloodstone shards were the creation of simple people.

While her ability to summon the stone from her blood did have to do with a cultural rite, it wasn’t the source of the stones. No, the stones did indeed originate from the monolithic bloodstones that were so jealousy defended inside the few Hiwiann temple-cities on the Altier Steppe. They weren’t mined, though, like most thought.

Instead, during their famous equinox pilgrimages, secret rituals were conducted—encouraging and aiding the great plinths of red crystal to bequeath the blessing to the chosen of the Hiwiann at a time of year when their powers naturally waxed strong—the heights of spring and autumn, when the world’s heartblood peaked and crested.

The result? Power, imbued in the chosen’s blood—one that could be condensed into a small reflection of its source.

Of the rituals and rites, Kenva had shared nothing. He respected her request for their understanding, as did the rest of the team—even the ever curious Ianmus, much to his surprise. They were not secrets for the uninitiated, and his knowledge of them would serve little else than to aggravate any of her culture who might learn of his understanding.

Still, what she had shared explained more than a few things. He could definitely understand why the knowledge was so tightly held. The ritual was the only source of new shards, and any currently bound ones could not be separated from their hosts. Loose ones, such as the one Rieker owned? Shards of dead Hiwiann, and only of those who managed to substantiate and maintain it as such before passing on.

It was a final deathrite—one that was only performed amongst their own people, or those who had taken an oath of secrecy and could be trusted to return to their bearer’s clan.

No wonder it was almost unheard of to see the bloody things outside of Hiwiann hands. He couldn’t exactly imagine being thrilled to pass off Father’s bones to anyone — even if they were a close friend — doubly so if the bones had incredibly rare, incredibly valuable powers.

It made him wonder what in the cursed hells Rieker had done to get ahold of one. It had to be something of significance, since he doubted that the man had gotten it through underhanded means—not with his close relations with Ro.

Hells, Kenva herself had been suspicious when they’d mentioned that, until they had mentioned his chief aide was Hiwiann herself.

He’d been tempted to press for more—to see if the ranger had heard of the guild administrators who had helped them so much—but Kenva finally looked ready to propose her oath, so he held his tongue.

“I propose a simple oath,” Kenva finally said, looking up from the stone in her hand to sweep her gaze across the team. “I know it was without intention, but you have all already proven your character through the Three Gifts, and it would sicken me to bind you unnecessarily.”

Kaius gave her a half smile and nodded, Porkchop and Ianmus giving their own assents. He had little problems with making an oath, especially not with someone who was bound by much the same secrets as they were—let alone his and Porkchop’s own secrets about their hand in the phase shift.

“Would you agree to swear that, as a group, we shall bind ourselves together—to never share each other’s secrets told in confidence, learned now and previously, except with express permission?” Kenva continued, a thrumming reverberation echoing in her voice as that coated her hand shimmered.

There was a weight to her speech, one that had been absent from his earlier oaths with Rieker and Ro—as if the world had leaned in, its breath baited as it waited for their response.

Kaius met Porkchop and Ianmus’s eyes, seeing a reflection of his respect for the moment. They both gave him a nod.

“We will,” he replied, returning back to Kenva.

She gave him a nod, full of slow significance, and drew her blade once more. Slicing her hand, she let her weeping blood touch the stone—infused with the soul-tinged light of her mana.

Reciting the words, she gasped as a power descended, binding her to their pact.

Porkchop was next, slicing through the pad of his paw with casual ease before he recited the words—his lack of audible sound not enough to hinder the ancient magic.

After his brother, it was Ianmus, and then finally, him.

Cutting his palm, he recited the oath solemnly, feeling the weight of the world watching his promise grow with every syllable. With his final utterance, the oath solidified—rushing back through his soul to bind him forever more. Or, at least from what he could instinctively sense, until his own natural power outgrew that of the Bloodstones from which the shard had come.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Sighing as the weight of the unseen watcher retreated, Kaius looked down at the stone, before looking up at Kenva. A thought occurred to him.

“Forgive me if this is an inappropriate question, for I am but a man who has grown up in the woods,” he started, hoping to avoid a repeat of the rudeness he accidentally shown Ro by asking her to make an unbalanced oath.

The ranger tilted her head at him, curious—but thankfully not guarded. “Of course.”

“I was wondering, while we have access to this, would it be possible that I could swear another oath? That I won’t share my legacy with others under duress? It seems that it would provide some measure of deterrence against men like those who captured us.” he asked.