B4 – Chapter 47: The Sixth Vault

Tristan headed to the Queen’s Wood and down the ramp to the depths. “What will I find in there?” he asked Zeltana.

She replied in his mind. Another scroll. As for the object within? It is a surprise. Possibly one you will welcome.

“Thanks for being useless.”

Hey! I’m just letting the suspense build up.

He reached the open vault doors and walked through until he arrived at the sixth one. A more intricate seal than the prior ones. Spirals that expanded out in a large swirl. “Can you at least tell me how many vaults there are?”

Seven. One for each Order of spell. I never focused on essence weaving too much, and so didn’t bother training my crucible. For the purpose of being this Primordial Being? It felt like the quality of my crucible was more important than its capacity. A larger funnel for the realm’s ambient essence.

“And I have a divine one already,” Tristan replied.

Yes. You don’t need to continue to progress your essence-weaving capabilities. Meditation will hardly do anything for you now.

“Dragon crucibles let me jump leaps and bounds.”

True. That’s how you went from almost to Sixth Order to now being able to open the corresponding vault door. But why do you care so much?

“Grandfather’s friend, Jacoby, and that encoded spell. It feels incredible having those draconic features manifested. Taking on their power to increase my own potential. It’s intoxicating.”

Yes, I experienced your memories and that hunt-urge. It seems to be getting stronger and more compelling the more crucibles you consume. I can only wonder what will happen when you are at fifty or more like your grandfather.

“He said eighty-seven.”

Close enough.

The Matriarch walked down the passage in her Elfanoid form. “Lord Tristan, you are ready?”

Tristan nodded and knelt, placing his knees in the shallow grooves, and planting his hands on the door before him. Spinning his crucible full-force, he surged the essence down his arms and into the wood. The spiral filled rapidly, and he felt exhaustion drag at his consciousness as he drained himself empty. But, the spiral filled, and he still had a little bit of essence left. As the door slid aside, he staggered to his feet and reverse-spun his crucible to suck in ambient essence and refill his capacity. “Let’s see what awaits.”

Another chamber just like the prior ones. Roots shaped into a pedestal, with a glowing lantern-like bulb just above. A black box of stone covered the pillar. He walked in and easily flipped the stone off with a single movement.

Underneath the box was a large crystal. A sapphire, shaped like a solid orb. Something was trapped within, and Tristan lifted the fist-sized gem and put it up to his eye. He could not see what lay within. “Interesting.” He turned and handed it to The Matriarch, who also inspected it. He turned back and grabbed the scroll, unfurling it and speaking aloud.

=====================================================================

New abilities lay ahead

If this far you descend,

You have grown in power

And prepare to go and scour.

Read close and learn the first

Step to take and rehearse

The order that must begin

To make new species in the realm, within.

Visualize the shape you seek to build

And expand it until it has filled

the size that you envision

And then make necessary revision.

After, take them from your mind

and affix them in a place assigned

Breathe life into their faces

And think about what their place is

State the following phrase without fault,

And a new species will awaken, resolved.

“I want the [species] to be brought to life.

Given form, thought, and joined to the Fey Realm”

=====================================================================

I couldn’t make the last lines rhyme, Zeltana said in Tristan’s mind. I’m not perfect. The dryads helped a lot with the rhyming. One of those, “place is” and “faces” that’s called a slant rhyme. Neat, huh?

Tristan furled the scroll and handed it to The Matriarch. He then gestured for the blue orb, and took it from her when offered. “Well, I already know how to make a new species, so this information is moot. But, for a Winterbloom who was learning from scratch, without guidance? I could see how this would be useful.”

The Matriarch nodded as she clasped her hands in front of her. “Thank you, for that. Making the species that were lost. It is greatly appreciated.” She paused, then spoke softly. “I think you should hold off on any new grafts until this business with the Demon Realm is concluded. I spoke to Felicity, and she shared a tale of your prowess from this recent Wild Realm excursion. I do not believe you need further assistance in this matter. I would instead focus on building up and choosing who to take with you in this strike force you mentioned that would go for the Demon King and his assassins.”

“Not a bad idea,” Tristan replied as he toyed with the sphere in his hands, turning it end over end. It was rough-hewn, not smooth and polished. Maybe if I get the gnomes to polish it, we’ll see what’s inside. “Have the dryads look for access to the Demon Realm—”

“Willow found it already,” The Matriarch replied as she turned and gestured for Tristan to follow through the tunnels. “We can open up the incursion at any time. And you are sure about the location and the plan?”

The author’s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Yes.” Tristan quickly shared the message he sent Duberceix and the misdirection it involved. “. . . I think that the best course of action is still to have Krik stage a false front to draw the military forces further from the capital.”

“They would arrive at the edge of the Demon Realm.”

“Good. Then they can begin right as the uprisings of the various Demon Houses start.” They reached the ground floor of the Queen’s Wood, and The Matriarch gestured for them to continue walking up the spiral to the top boughs. “Once we are a week or so into the uprising, and scouts report that Duberceix’s forces are clearing out from the capital, my strike team goes in.”

“It seems prudent,” The Matriarch replied. “I sincerely hope that he remains in his capital, or else your scouring will be for naught.”

Tristan let out a brief, barking laugh. “I’ll find him. I have the Locate spell artificed into my cloak. Duberceix will die. All of his assassins will perish for good.” Tristan’s word were filled with a venom and spite that he felt was justified.

The Matriarch, though, had never heard that tone and inflection, and she looked down at him with motherly concern. “I hope you keep your senses about you.”

Tristan nodded. “I am clear in my path and purpose.”

“Good.”

They reached the top boughs and The Matriarch walked over to the edge of the platform with Tristan right beside her. “Why did you want to come up here?” Tristan asked.

“It has been less than a year . . . and you have done all of this.” She gestured out to the Fey Realm, with particular attention paid to the Sunlit Summit and its flowering moss and miniature Queen’s Wood. “Still four sub-seals remain. But I never imagined that a Winterbloom would accomplish this much in such a short time.” She turned to him with a wide, broad smile that reached her ears. “Thank you. The realm is almost whole once more.”

“It has progressed rapidly,” Tristan replied. “Thanks to eating dragons. And, hard work.”

“Do you feel like you’ve earned it?”

“Oh yes,” Tristan replied. “I earned this. Sure, I was this “chosen one” being the last Winterbloom alive . . . but I’ve more than earned the right to rule.” He looked at her with a sidelong glance. “How would you say I have ruled thus far?”

“Well. Incredibly so. Just and prudent, though at times a little naïve – but that naivete comes with youth.”

Wow, she is really laying it on thick. Bet you she’s going to ask for something.