Zenith of Sorcery - 8. Proliferation
Chapter 008
Proliferation
It was evening, and Marcus sat next to a large table in one of the many roadside inns scattered around Elora, watching Cricket eat the food he had ordered for her. She had absolutely no table manners, and was ignoring the knife and fork in favor of shoveling meat and potatoes into her mouth by hand, leaving oily smudges all around her face and scattering crumbs of food everywhere.
The waitress who had brought them food was sitting a few tables away, chatting to a pair of male guests that seemed to be regulars at the establishment. She had to have noticed Cricket’s behavior, but didn’t find it notable or worth commenting on.
Marcus didn’t bother saying anything, either – the girl had gone through a lot recently, and was clearly starving. Besides, he’d grown up in an orphanage, and had seen no shortage of awful table manners, despite Old Pliny’s attempts to instill some decorum and discipline in his young charges.
At least she was no longer walking around in torn rags. He and Helvran bought her some new clothes to wear in a nearby town, though she was currently well on her way to dirtying them with grease and random food pieces.
With how fast she was eating, it was no surprise that she soon found herself staring at the empty food bowl in front of her. The sight seemed to bring her back to reality, and she started studying her surroundings a little more closely.
“Where is the other guy?” she asked Marcus. “The one in black robes. With the raven.”
“Helvran left to report back to his temple,” Marcus told her. “He needs to tell them what happened in that forest.”
“Oh,” she said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”
“No,” Marcus said. They had already questioned her a little on the way back, and it turned out she hadn’t even known there were undead around. She’d only known about the vespids. “He apologizes for leaving so abruptly, but it couldn’t wait. It’s just you and me now.”
She nodded at that, relaxing a little.
“So, umm, why aren’t you eating?” she asked him innocently. “Aren’t you hungry?”
He was about to answer that he was waiting for the food to cool a little, when he noticed how hungry her expression was when looking at his food bowl.
“No, I’m not hungry,” he lied, pushing the bowl towards her. “You can have my portion, too.”
She didn’t even pretend to refuse the offer. She quickly pulled it closer to her and started messily devouring it too. After a few seconds of this she froze for a moment, probably realizing she was being a little rude, and muttered a quick thanks before continuing to attack the poor defenseless potatoes.
“You said you survived by hiding in caves,” Marcus said. She nodded silently, not bothering to look up from her food. “Is the cave system around Serpentooth Plateau really that big?”
“There are tunnels all over the place,” she said, pausing her eating for a moment to answer. “There are lots of slimes living there, but they’re slow and dumb, and it’s easy to avoid them. My father taught me how.”
That was unusual. He knew there were certain places in the world where the underground tunnel systems had grown so extensive they formed practically their own little world, but from what he knew, they were mostly remnants of old dwarven excavations, which shouldn’t extend this far south. Something very weird was happening here; he was thankful that the Raven Temple were about to take a look at the region. It meant he didn’t have to worry about it.
Regardless, this must be why Cricket had felt confident about attempting to find her parents in such dangerous wilderness. She knew there was a wealth of hiding places to take shelter in.
“The vespids didn’t follow you into the caves?” Marcus asked.
“They did,” she said.
He gave her a curious look. Then how…?
“The slimes are dumb, but the giant wasps are even dumber,” she explained, noticing his questioning look. “Loud too. The slimes use their hearing to hunt. How do they do that anyway? They don’t have any ears…”
Her voice gradually lowered towards the end, becoming a half-audible mumble. She was probably talking to herself, thinking out loud rather than asking him a question, but he heard her clearly anyway.
“Their jelly-like body shakes slightly when sounds pass through it. Their whole body acts like a giant ear,” Marcus said, trying to explain it as simply as he could. Based on her facial expression, he suspected she still didn’t understand. “Anyway, what are your plans now?”
“Plans?” she asked incredulously, before shoving another potato into her mouth.
“Don’t have any?” Marcus guessed. She shook her head sadly, chewing slowly. “Hmm.”
He didn’t offer to escort her back to her village and get her house back. He could do it, of course – with his level of power, it would be extremely simple to intimidate the village into accepting her back and returning the house they’d stolen, but then what? He wouldn’t be there all the time, or even most of the time, and she would be completely at their mercy while he was gone. They might even kill her. He could take revenge, of course, but threats of revenge only worked if you regularly made an example out of people. Marcus didn’t want to walk down that path.
Besides, how would Cricket support herself in the village? She was clearly very resourceful and courageous, but perhaps… a little too much. He was dubious about her ability to live on her own without someone to keep her in check.
“I have a suggestion for you,” he told her. “What do you think about going to an orphanage?”
“An orphanage!?” she said. She didn’t sound pleased. “But that’s… that’s what my mother used to threaten me with if I didn’t behave! Why would I want to go there? There have to be better options…”
“It’s really not that bad,” Marcus told her, unconcerned with her outburst. “The orphanage I have in mind is the same one I grew up in. It’s not paradise, but I have fond memories of it. I’m sure you’d do fine there.”
She gave him a surprised look. She was probably surprised by his admission of having been an orphan, but she didn’t actually say anything.
“Umm… why are you so nice to me, anyway?” she asked. “You bought me new clothes, gave me food, and you’re now offering to take me to a new home…”
“I also rented a room at this inn so you have somewhere to sleep tonight,” Marcus added helpfully. “Anyway, the real question is why I even went into the forest to save you. Once I did that, it makes no sense to just walk away without helping you get back on your feet a little. This is all small stuff for me.”
“It sure is nice being a rich and powerful mage,” she groused. “Small stuff… but, uh, you never actually answered my question.”
He simply smiled at her knowingly, not saying anything.
He could have explained that she was an orphan who had done something very courageous, yet also very stupid, and therefore reminded him of his own youth a little, but he had a reputation as a powerful, mysterious and respectable mage to maintain.
“Fine, you don’t have to tell me,” she said. “I don’t want to be ungrateful. This is great! It’s just, uh, a little overwhelming. And kind of weird.”
After a second of uncomfortable silence, Cricket decided talking was done for now and focused back on what used to be his food with renewed vigor.
Hmm. He supposed he should let her eat in peace, and there was little reason for him to be here now that his own meal was gone. He rose from his seat, prompting her to stop eating again and throw him a curious look.
“Have some rest tonight and think about what you want to do. I’ll come by in the morning to hear what you’ve decided,” he told her.
“You won’t stay here?” she asked.
“No,” he simply said, not explaining his reasoning.
He had grown used to sleeping outdoors over the years, and now sleeping in a bedroom felt a bit strange. He would have to get used to it once he picked a place to settle down, but for now he would continue to sleep outside on the ground whenever possible.
“What if something happens?” she said, suddenly sounding fearful. “What if someone spirits me away in the night? Like that necromancer you said lives in the woods…”
He didn’t expect that out of her. He knew her for less than a day, but she seemed pretty fearless, even reckless. She seemed to be contemplating trying to live on her own after this, so it was a bit funny to see her suddenly worried about spending a night alone in a cozy roadside inn.
Anyway, he thought her sudden concern was pure paranoia, but…
He clenched one of his hands tightly in front of him, closing his eyes and focusing. When he opened his fist, a small milky white butterfly was sitting on his palm, experimentally beating its wings. A soft glow emanated from it.
He made a throwing motion towards Cricket, and the butterfly immediately took off towards her, landing straight on her nose. The move visibly shocked her, likely dispelling any further fantasies about kidnapping necromancers.
He let out a brief chuckle. He actually meant to send the butterfly to her shoulder, but butterfly spirits were always so fond of theatrics.
Cricket waved her hand in front of her face angrily, causing the butterfly to take off again, expertly evading her palms with lazy wing flaps. This time it landed on her shoulder instead, as Marcus intended.
“If anything happens to you, tell the butterfly to get help and he’ll come and find me,” Marcus told her.
She craned her head to the side, trying to get a better look at the butterfly.
“It’s pretty,” she said. She probably couldn’t see it, but the little spirit preened at the compliment. She gave Marcus a curious stare. “You can fly and make butterflies. Are you a butterfly mage?”
“Ha, no. I’m a tree mage,” Marcus explained. “Alas, tree spells are exceedingly rare, so I learned to do a little bit of everything instead.”
Logically speaking, wood element spells should be quite common, since wood element affinity showed up relatively frequently among children, and since forests covered large sections of the continent, including its entire interior. And yet… wood spells were as rare as hen’s teeth. Marcus only ever found three of them, and all were of very low level and quite disappointing.
But no matter. The Soul Tree Technique could accommodate almost any spell or element, so this was a minor matter.
In any case, the butterfly successfully calmed her down, and he doubted she really cared to listen to obscure magical trivia, so he gave her a brief wave. She still seemed a little worried, but a brief look at the butterfly on her shoulder made her take a deep breath and straighten up and put on a dramatic heroic pose.
The little white butterfly did its best to assume a matching dramatic pose, in its own butterfly way. It would have been completely invisible to most people, but to Marcus, who interacted with Celer and other butterfly spirits for years, it was painfully obvious.
“It’s okay. I’ve got this,” she said, making a shooing motion with her hand. “I’m not afraid anymore! You go and do your thing.”
So Marcus did just that and left.
* * * *
When Marcus came back to the inn the next morning, he found Cricket already waiting for him outside the building, impatiently jumping in place and humming some kind of tune to herself. The white butterfly he’d left with her was still there, flying lazy circles around her.
She immediately ran towards him when she noticed him approach.
“Mister Mage!” she shouted.
“Call me Marcus,” he told her. He suspected she had forgotten his name, but he wouldn’t hold it against her. “Feeling better already, I see.”
“Yup! I didn’t even realize how tired I was yesterday!” she said with a smile. “So, uh, I’ve been thinking…”
Marcus raised an eyebrow at her.
“You said you grew up in this orphanage you want to send me to,” she began. Marcus nodded. “And you’re a mage. Does that mean it’s a magic orphanage? Do they teach orphans their magic?”
Marcus was about to tell her there was no such thing as a ‘magic orphanage’, but then he remembered that some of the smaller adept organizations did in fact run orphanages as their main recruitment method. This was typically due to orphans being perceived as more loyal, due to not having any family loyalties to distract them.
Marcus was more than a little suspicious of these groups, however. There was usually a good reason why they chose to recruit exclusively from the most desperate and isolated pool of candidates.
“The orphanage doesn’t teach everyone magic, but if you show talent and dedication, you will get sent to a nearby magic academy, just like I was,” Marcus told her. The white butterfly finally caught up with Cricket and lazily landed on her head. Seeing how its purpose was done, Marcus waved his hand over it, causing it to disappear into a puff of white smoke. “Interested in becoming a mage, are we?”
“Um, yes!” she said with undisguised enthusiasm.
“Do you know how to read, at least?” Marcus asked. Most mages didn’t even want to hear about teaching an apprentice that was illiterate.
“Um, yes!” she said, shifting uncomfortably in place. “There was this old traveling priest who used to visit every once in a while. He taught all the village children how to read and write. He said I was really good at it! But, uh, it’s been years since he last came to the village, so I think I’ve gotten kind of rusty…”
Marcus didn’t laugh, even though he wanted to. He didn’t doubt for a second that Cricket was greatly overselling her literacy, but even spotty reading skills were better than nothing.
“I’ll speak to Old Pliny when we get to the orphanage. If you’re willing to work hard, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind organizing some extra lessons just for you to get rid of all that rust…” Marcus told her. He frowned. “Sorry, I guess I’m assuming things. Are you even interested in going to the orphanage or do you want to strike out on your own instead?”
“I’m coming with you,” she said, shaking her head. “I, uh, can always leave this orphanage if I don’t like it there, right?”
“Sure,” Marcus said with a shrug. Old Pliny was not interested in keeping any of the children captive there, not even for their own good.
And neither was Marcus. He thought Cricket would be foolish to refuse this offer, especially if she hoped to become a mage. Trying to get a mage to teach you as a penniless wanderer with no connections of any kind would require an incredible amount of luck. But, if that’s what she truly wanted, Marcus would not stand in her way.
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“I guess there is no harm in checking this out, then,” she said. She stared at him for a second. “This is going to sound stupid, but do you think there is any chance my parents are still alive out there somewhere? I… we never found their bodies…”
Marcus stared back at her for a full two seconds, thinking about the best way to phrase his answer, but in the end there was really no good way to say this.
“It’s unlikely,” he said. It was harsh, but she seemed like a brave girl. He would give her a straight answer. “If they survived, why wouldn’t they come back for you?”
Of course, once magic got involved, all kinds of things become possible. Maybe her parents were whisked away to another plane of existence, or were transformed into toads by a mischievous fairy, or were frozen in time by a temporal anomaly, or any number of things. But the simplest explanation was usually the true one, even in a world of magic and monsters. Her parents had likely died in that forest, which is why they had never returned.
Cricket shook her head.
“Forget it. I knew it was stupid. When do we leave?” she asked.
“Right now, if you’re ready,” Marcus said. “You don’t have any problems with me flying us there, right?”
At the mention of flying, Cricket’s expression immediately brightened and became excited. This didn’t surprise Marcus much, considering how much she loved flying yesterday while they were leaving the vespid forest.
“Can I learn how to fly in that magic orphanage of yours?” she asked.
“It’s not a magic orphanage. But sure,” Marcus said.
He held the orb of flight in his hand and catapulted them both high into the air.
* * * *
There was something uplifting about watching Cricket’s antics as they flew over the lands of Elora, watching fields and villages fly past them on the ground below. She twisted and turned left and right, flapped her arms like wings, and mimicked various bird sounds. Whatever worries she’d had on ground were completely forgotten while in the air, enjoying the experience in a way that Marcus had rarely seen in the past.
Marcus had taken quite a few people into the air over the years, and usually they were terrified or at least found the experience highly stressful. Some people professed to have enjoyed the experience, but none of them visibly showed it like Cricket did. The sort of people Marcus usually interacted with would be mortified to be acting with this kind of childish glee in front of other people.
Thus far, Marcus had avoided flying so openly in populated areas, trying to keep his arrival at least somewhat secret. However, considering everything that had happened since his arrival in the kingdom, he suspected that everyone who cared to know knew by now that he was back. It was only a matter of time before people started arriving to come and bother him. If so, there was no need to keep a low profile anymore.
He just hoped that Beortan would find him before anyone else from Great Sea came knocking.
Flight was a very fast method of travel, and Elora was a small kingdom. Marcus and Cricket arrived at the Willowhill orphanage very quickly, where they caused a mini commotion by simply dropping from the sky in the middle of the orphanage garden. He introduced Cricket to Pliny, explaining her situation in brief before requesting to speak with him in private.
This time he sound-proofed the room before sitting down. It would be best if no more rumors surfaced from the orphanage because of overheard snippets of conversation.
“I must say, I did not expect you to return here so soon after our last talk, and especially not in such dramatic fashion,” Pliny said, sitting down opposite to him. “Surely there was no need to go through all this trouble just to deliver one orphan girl. Were you trying to give the children something to talk about?”
“Maybe. I heard they were spreading quite a few rumors about me after my last visit,” Marcus said. “About how I was looking for students and whatnot.”
Pliny sighed. “I should have known the stories would end up reaching you eventually. I promise you this isn’t me trying to pressure you to take a student. The children can get some stunningly harebrained ideas into their heads sometimes. You of all people should know that.”
He gave Marcus a piercing look. Marcus coughed uncomfortably into his fist.
“Anyway, I don’t care about that rumor because I’ve decided to take your advice and make it a reality,” Marcus said. “I will take a few students.”
“Oh?” Pliny said, sitting up straighter. “More than one, even?”
“Yes. I am thinking of being a little ambitious,” Marcus said.
“Oh!” Pliny said, sounding very pleased. “That is… great to hear, my boy! Very good news indeed!”
The old man rubbed his chin, giving Marcus a speculative look.
“Let me guess. You plan to take the new girl as one of these students,” he told Marcus knowingly.
“Err, well, I’m thinking about it,” Marcus admitted. “I like her character.”
“Oh dear,” Pliny said.
“Don’t say anything to her yet, though,” Marcus warned. “I don’t want her to get a big head about it.”
“I hope she’s just like you,” Pliny told him. “That way you’ll know how I felt. And don’t even think about sending her back to me if she turns out to be too much for you to handle. Once you teach a person to bend reality to their will, they become your responsibility, my boy. And with that in mind, I have an important piece of advice for you: don’t accept more than twenty students at once.”
Marcus was taken back at the statement.
“What? Twenty students? What are you talking about, old man?” Marcus asked him, giving Old Pliny an incredulous look.
“Didn’t you say you were feeling ambitious?” Old Pliny said, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Well yes, but I was thinking… I don’t know, five? Maybe six?” Marcus replied.
“Does that include the students that Great Sea and Great Tree will insist that you take?” Pliny asked with a smile.
Damn… the old man was right. If he announced he was taking students, there was no way Great Sea would just stand aside and watch as he took a bunch of orphans under his wing and taught them everything. They would insist on placing at least one student of their own choice under his care, to bind him closer to their organization and keep an eye on him. Great Tree would also be extremely insistent on giving him a student, since that was another avenue for them to acquire his foundational technique.
He could just rebuff them, of course. He was powerful enough that he could probably get away with it. However, just because they would reluctantly accept it didn’t mean there would be no consequence. It would mean burning down bridges that he was only starting to rebuild. Plus, he had to think about his students. If Great Sea thought he was setting up an independent organization, they might decide to target them covertly.
“One student from Great Sea, one student from Great Tree, and this Livia girl you’ve just brought here. That’s three people already,” Pliny told him. “I don’t know if you have any other friends left in the Silver League after your long absence, but if you do, some of them might also come knocking for you to take on their children and relatives under your wing. And your sheer power and status will also be a lure to some people, no matter how poor your reputation is at the moment. In fact, I imagine some of them won’t even care whether you teach their children anything – just the prestige and intimidation value of being able to say they were taught by the famous General Marcus of the First Academy War will be enough for them to offer money and other benefits to you.”
“But you think I shouldn’t accept their offers?” Marcus asked.
“Remember what I told you about Livia – once you teach someone magic, they are your responsibility forevermore,” Pliny told him. “If they start killing people, extorting merchants for protection money, or kidnapping innocent village girls, no one will care that you didn’t personally order them to do any of that. They will come to you for restitution and demand you do something about it. It cannot be any other way – the whole system of the Silver League rests on the idea that adepts will teach their students how to use their powers responsibly, and restrain them if they fail to live up to their teachings. The more students you take on, the more likely it is that you will have to make an enemy out of some of them, perhaps even slay them.”
Unbidden, a memory of one of Pliny’s history lessons surfaced in his mind. A story about a small academy founded by an eccentric spirit manifestation mage.
Sessa, the founder of the Four Seasons Academy, was a very powerful mage that had some unusual ideas about the best way to teach students. Every four years, he would accept 64 students into his care. At the end of the first year, he would expel half of the students out of the academy and continue teaching the remaining 32. He would then repeat this for the next three years, expelling half of the generation at the end of each year, eventually ending up with only 4 students from the initial 64. These four would then be admitted into the Four Seasons Academy as permanent members.
The idea was that by continually culling lowest performing students, the academy would be left with only the very best by the end of it. The problem was that this teaching method meant that the academy produced a lot of well trained, highly competitive mages that were set loose on the surrounding lands. Few of them were willing to retire quietly into obscurity, and they had trouble getting accepted into other adept organizations. Many turned to banditry and crime, or just plain caused trouble in various ways. Many came to Sessa to complain about their actions, but he turned them all away, saying it was not his problem. These people stopped being his students the moment they were thrown out of it, he said, and were never full members of the Four Seasons Academy to begin with.
When the Silver League was first established, one of their very first joint actions was to declare war on Four Seasons Academy and burn it to the ground. Sessa, despite being one of the most powerful mages of his time, was not powerful enough to stand against the combined might of the entire Silver League, and perished with the rest of his school.
“I will keep your words very close to my heart,” Marcus told Pliny. “How many students do you think I should take?”
“Well, that’s a hard question, my boy,” Pliny told him. “Truthfully, the smartest option would be for you to take on one to three students to start with. However, I have no idea how long this newfound enthusiasm for teaching of yours will last, so I feel compelled to saddle you with as many children as I can.”
Marcus gave him a silent, unamused look. Was that really something the old man should be saying out loud?
“Eight to twelve should be manageable,” Pliny continued. “Go higher than that at your own risk. And, again, under no circumstances let people talk you into taking on more than twenty. That aside, can I presume you intend to test the children here for magical talent and compatibility with your foundational technique?”
“Yes, but not now,” Marcus said.
“It couldn’t be done now, even if you wanted to,” Pliny told him in an exasperated tone of voice. “Such a thing takes time to organize. Of course, we should also give some time to Livia to settle in a little before you spring this up on her.”
“Two months from now,” Marcus suggested. “How about that?”
“Sure,” Pliny agreed. “Remember that you also have to set up supplies and accommodations for your new students.”
Right. All these children will have to be housed somewhere. That was important.
“I don’t have a concrete plan for that yet, but I will figure something out,” Marcus admitted.
“Don’t wait too long. Two months isn’t that long for something like this. Buildings take a long time to change hands,” Pliny advised him. He was silent for a moment, considering something for a few seconds. “Anyway. We’re getting a little ahead of ourselves, I think. I wanted to hear more about Livia, especially since you plan to take her as your student. How did you even meet her? It must be quite a story, considering the impression she left on you.”
“It sure is,” Marcus agreed. He collected his thoughts for a moment and then started retelling of his recent experiences. “So, I was just minding my own business, trying to find a pair of dead people on the eastern edge of Elora, when I saw this man in a black robe waiting for me by the road…”
* * * *
After he dropped off Cricket at the orphanage and spent some time talking to Old Pliny, Marcus did the same thing he had the last time he visited the orphanage.
He went to visit the Sacred Oak and have a chat with him.
He had browsed his spellbook over and over again in his free time for possible solutions to the soul seed implanted in his soul, and he didn’t find anything particularly useful. Soul magic was rare and restricted, and Marcus was by no means an expert in it.
He had also meditated on the problem, trying to analyze his own soul for any trace of foreign influence. Nothing jumped out at him. If the Sacred Oak hadn’t told him what was happening, he doubted the truth would have ever occurred to him. How can you fix a problem that you cannot even see?
The tree was still where he had left it. Of course. Not like the oak could move, even if it was highly magical. It stood there in the clearing, branches gently swaying in the wind, beckoning him to come closer.
“Welcome, my child,” the Sacred Oak spoke to him. “Have you come to learn the soul seed spell?”
“Yes, I’ve come to learn the soul seed spell,” Marcus replied. Stupid tree. “Don’t be so smug about it.”
“I don’t believe I’m being smug. It’s simply your imagination,” Sacred Oak said. “Though I must admit, I am surprised to see you here so soon. I assumed it would be a few more years before you relented and came here to benefit from my teachings.”
“If I am going to do this, then there is no point in stalling,” Marcus said. “Soul magic is hard to research, and I don’t dare tell anyone what is truly going on. It’s likely that even several years from now, I won’t know much more than I do right now.”
Marcus was no longer a young mage advancing by leaps and bound over his peers. While he had high hopes that his journey towards the pinnacle of magic wasn’t done yet, it would likely take him a long time to get to a higher tier of power.
No, if he wanted to figure this soul thing out, he needed to learn the soul seed spell. Only by learning how to perform it and studying it in action could he hope to untangle what it was really doing to him in turn.
Although what he was doing was dangerous, and probably unethical, Marcus wasn’t someone to agonize over a decision for months or years. He decided to do this, so he might as well seek out the oak now.
Though there was, of course, more to it than that.
“Let me ask you something. Are there any conditions for the soul seed technique to be successfully used on someone?” Marcus asked.
“Yes. Many,” Sacred Oak responded. “Strictly speaking, any person who hasn’t achieved the rank of spirit manifestation or equivalent is a valid target. However, anyone who has a good grasp on their soul will be able to sense the intrusion and resist the implantation. Even low-ranking adepts are typically impossible to affect.”
Marcus scoffed internally. He knew it.
“So this is a spell meant only to be used on people who have no magical training whatsoever, or are complete beginners that have only started their studies,” Marcus surmised.
One of the first things apprentice mages were taught was how to feel and study their own soul, because it was a necessary prerequisite towards virtually every other step in their training. So when the tree said low-ranking, it meant really low-ranking…
He had already suspected this was the case, but it was nice to have it confirmed.
“You could always explain things to people and ask for their permission. That would allow you to give your blessing to just about anyone,” Sacred Oak helpfully explained. “Though I would be very careful about who you try this on.”
Marcus had no intention of ever explaining this to anyone. He had no idea how people would react if they knew what kind of magic he was learning, but it would be very bad. Not just for him, but also for Great Tree Academy, his future students, and anyone else tangentially related to him.
“Have you ever tried this on someone?” Marcus asked curiously.
“Oh yes, lots of times. I have lived for a long time, after all. You have to have some excitement every once in a while,” Sacred Oak said. “Believe it or not, some people have even sought me out on their own in order to give me their entire life’s work, all that they have ever accomplished.”
“Why would they do that?” Marcus asked.
“It depends from person to person. One of them wanted to find a worthy successor, but could never do so during his lifetime. He made me promise I would pass on his technique and spell to a fitting candidate in the future. The other was a lone survivor of a small academy, sick and dying, who hoped their legacy could rise again one day when the circumstances are right. Another still was remarkably generous, sharing his insights to man and beast alike, and saw nothing wrong with giving me access to everything he knew.”
“Ah. You’re like a living heritage record!” Marcus said.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think that will work for you,” Sacred Oak opined. “Humans, even powerful ones, are notoriously short-lived.”
That was true. Achieving spirit manifestation did prolong one’s life slightly, but that only amounted to a decade or two extra at most. If one wanted to live in perpetuity, they had to ascend to the Outer Heavens.
Marcus was quiet for a moment, considering things.
“Alright. Let’s not drag this out,” he eventually said. “Tell me what I must do.”
“Seeing how you’ve practiced the Soul Tree Technique to spirit manifestation and beyond, I imagine you have a pretty good grasp on the logos of grafting, yes?” Sacred Oak asked.
“Of course,” Marcus confirmed.
Grafting was one of the more important concepts contained in the greater idea of the tree. All manner of tree cuttings could be grafted onto a tree, even ones from a completely different species, and the tree would simply incorporate them into itself and keep growing and living. Although many people weren’t aware of it, many domesticated trees were created entirely by grafting two different trees together while they were still just saplings.
The logos of grafting was the main reason why the Soul Tree Technique could accommodate almost any spell or magical ability into itself. As such, Marcus had made sure to study it very closely and incorporate a lot of it into his spiritual foundation.
“That is good, because it is a prerequisite for this to work correctly,” Sacred Oak explained. “Despite being called a soul seed, the whole process is more akin to taking a cutting of your soul tree and grafting it onto another person’s soul…”
Sacred Oak continued explaining the process to Marcus, taking time to go through the entire process step by step. Of course, a verbal explanation of a spell would not be nearly enough to teach someone to cast it, but an outside record was not necessary when you had a living teacher who knew the spell present.
Marcus’s soul touched that of the Sacred Oak, allowing him to study the soul seed spell etched upon it. It was one of many thousands of such spells, all glittering on the edge of his perception like a river of stars. A surge of greed for knowledge and magical power urged him to try and steal some of them while he had the opportunity, but he resisted it.
He focused on the task at hand, instead.
The whole process took several hours, and at the end of it the tree decided to demonstrate the spell so that Marcus could see how it was done.
Before Marcus could say anything, Sacred Oak sent a tiny glowing mote, otherwise invisible to anyone not connected to the tree like Marcus, into a squirrel climbing along its branches. The mote sank harmlessly into the squirrel, who seemed completely unaware anything had even happened. Marcus was able to study the whole thing closely, and the process did help explain the exact mechanics of the spell to him, but something bothered him about this…
“You just tore away a piece of your soul and stuffed it into a squirrel,” Marcus told the tree. “I know it’s just a tiny piece, but isn’t this a horrific waste? How long will it take you to recover from that?”
“No creature, no matter how simple, is truly without any insights to offer,” Sacred Oak chided him. “As for your question… why don’t you try it out yourself and see what happens?”
Marcus gave it a suspicious look, but the tree said nothing. Could it even see his facial expressions? Surely it could. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he noticed it react to his body language during their earlier exchanges, so it surely had some way to visually perceive the world. It knew the shapes of their planet’s continents, for instance.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he closed his eyes and focused inward, perceiving his soul tree in as much detail as he could. He spoke the chant taught to him by the Sacred Oak in a low tone of voice, carefully performing every step of the spell, and then stopped. After a moment of hesitation, he mentally reached towards one of the smaller branches of his soul tree, barely even a twig… and snapped it off.
There was a brief pang of pain, and a feeling of lessening that inevitably came with losing a part of your soul, but nothing, nothing like the pain and agony he had felt in the past whenever he tried something like this.
He opened his eyes, giving Sacred Oak a bewildered look.
“What… is this?” he asked the tree. A tiny mote of light floated in between his hands, though it would be invisible to anyone but Marcus, if any bystanders were present.
He felt he could do this… many times. Many, many times.
“Just how many soul seeds can you create?” he asked the Sacred Oak, a realization growing in his mind.
“I make hundreds of them every single year,” the tree said. “Not just for Great Tree Academy, but also for the nearby villagers that pay homage for me, curious travelers that try to pray for luck, and so on. A single squirrel… is barely a perceptible loss. Though I don’t think you’ll be able to do it nearly as frequently as me for quite some time.”
Marcus stared at the soul mote dancing in his hands. He only realized after a few seconds he had stopped breathing at some point. Not because the process was so stressful, far from it, but for the sheer realization of what kind of power he now wielded.
He definitely had to keep this a secret at all costs.
