B3 – Chapter 38: An ancient mentor

Tristan left Felicity to regale The Matriarch as he descended to the depths of the Queen’s Wood, going to the sap pit at the base of the main stalk, and taking a seat on the floor. Calming his breathing with deep breaths, he closed his eyes and envisioned his essence crucible. It looked different than before.

No longer a pale silver, it was instead almost a pure white; crossed only by the various bands of solid colors representing the different Elemental Realm dragons that he had consumed. But, he could also see a shimmering, glinting gold sparkle across the surface, and brief, swirling, purple whirls like smoke eddies vanishing into the night sky. Rejuvenation and Mind? He thought. Elements are like solid strips, but the other spell types are more…esoteric.

He focused on the crucible and within a split-second found himself standing in his inner world. That was…far quicker than before. He looked around and saw naught but the large tree, the edges of the inner world’s sphere, and the almost glassy ground of solid ice. No longer the tumbling drifts of snow – it was a flat plane. No wind stirred, no sound could be heard; it was utterly peaceful.

Right. Onto smoothing. Tristan headed over to the wall of the crucible and began smoothing out the small bumps along the sphere. He found a lot of bumps, and spent an unknown time just getting everything smoothed out. Spinning his crucible to shift the top and bottom around, he felt someone tap his shoulder.

In the inner world, not feedback to his body. Glancing sideways, he felt his heart skip a beat as he saw someone standing there. Another person, in his inner world. Holding a massive maul perched on one shoulder – a white branch with a gnarly, black tip that bristled with icicles. She was dressed in a suit of light armor that would allow for dexterous movement.

Tristan had seen himself in a mirror, and this person was his opposite, just gender reversed; minus the slightly raised scales of his dragonslayer bloodline along his crown and doubtless elsewhere. She smirked and let out a barking laugh, “Well well, color me impressed. Divine rarity crucible already?” She set the maul’s head on the ground and leaned on the shaft, flashing a toothy smile. Her voice was brutal and sharp, like the sound of ice cracking as it fell from a glacier.

Tristan turned to face her. “Let me guess…Zeltana?”

“In the consciousness,” she replied. She looked around the inner world, “I have to say; I’m impressed. Less than a year and you are already at a Divine rarity crucible. Fourth Order spell capability.” Her gaze flicked back to him, “That means you no longer use that Mortal Realm naming system of Mage. What is it for this next level of accomplishment?”

“Sorcerer,” Tristan replied as he leaned against the wall of his inner world. “How are you here?”

“I gave my life to the Realm,” she said with confidence. “I have been in the Queen’s Wood ever since. My consciousness, my soul as some call it, still sits within the tree. I first saw you when you took the Trial of the Sap…imagine my surprise as I tried to rifle through your memories, only to find myself stymied by an impassable barrier.” She tapped her temple, “You aren’t as much of a disappointment as I thought.”

Tristan frowned, “Why are you here?”

She lifted the maul and put it on her shoulder, “When you meditate near the pool of sap, with a crucible big enough – Divine and at least Fourth Order capable, in your case – I’m able to slip in.”

“You aren’t going to try and take over my body or something like that, are you?”

She laughed, and the sound was like two songbirds trilling in harmony. “No! Starsworn, no. Never.”

“Starsworn?”

She waved her hand dismissively, “A turn of phrase. Similar to your “gods, no”.”

Tristan could tell she was lying but chose not to press given how put-off he already was by her sudden presence. “Then you just chose to visit?”

“I am one with the Realm,” she said bluntly as her voice dropped to a slightly serious tone, still with an undercurrent of sincerity. “Every tree, every branch – within a certain distance of the Queen’s Wood at least.” She pointed at him, “You, last Winterbloom, need some instruction. And I’m here to do that.”

Tristan was skeptical and suspected an ulterior motive, but this was a great opportunity to get answers. “First question; did you bring the Plague Realm’s destruction upon the Fey Realm?”

Zeltana’s face tightened into a grimace of remorse and regret, and she curtly nodded. “I used a staff formed from the Queen’s Wood – the same type you have on your person – and breached the barrier.” She sighed and rubbed her temples, somehow perching the massive hammer along her shoulder with impeccable balance. “I just…I thought we could handle it. But I was wrong.”

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“Well…it must have been horrible,” Tristan replied, feeling a pang of sympathy. “Why did you not have your gear with you? Why put it in the Vaults?”

She frowned and pulled her hands back down, letting them dangle at her sides as she looked at the ice and sounded truly defeated. “Before I used the staff, every time I did it, I would store my usual equipment and gear inside the Queen’s Wood. The shirt you wear and claimed, the gloves, and more. Plus, leaving the small notes. The reason for that was simple – I didn’t want them to get lost in another Realm while I was conquering.”

“Conquering for what reason?” Tristan asked.