Path of Dragons

"Your daughter?" asked Elijah, hoping he'd misunderstood.

"Regrettably, yes," the old man said, looking away, The twinkle in his blue eyes remained, though it was undermined by a sheen of moisture. A tear dripped down his weathered cheek, disappearing into his beard. "I should have been stronger. I could have prevented a good deal of suffering."

"She's more powerful than you?" Elijah asked. If that was the case, there was no way he or his companions could defeat her.

He chuckled softly. "There is more to strength than one's level," the man said. "My will was not up to holding her accountable. I ignored all the signs, and even when I discovered what she had become, I chose to look the other way. That is my weakness. I loved her too much. I still do. She is everything to me."

He sighed, then added, "That is what keeps me here." He lifted his hands, showing Elijah his manacles. They clinked softly in the silence, and Elijah saw that an ethereal chain stretched between the pair of shackles. "These are easily broken. It would be the work of a few days, and I would be free."

"Why don't you escape?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

It was, though Elijah wanted to hear it from the man's own lips. So, he shook his head.

"You want me to say it, do you? Very well. I stay because if I broke free, I would lose the only family I have left. She still visits me, you know. Not often, and when she does, she takes out her many, many frustrations on me. But even that is better than the alternative. I would not want to live without her in my life."

Elijah pitied the old man, but he could understand the reasoning well enough. Surely, the powerful mage knew what he was doing. He recognized what he had become. And yet, he didn't know what else to do. He couldn't give up the one thing he truly cared about.

Frowning, Elijah considered the situation. Was there supposed to be a lesson there? Was the system telling him not to become too attached? He wasn't sure, but he'd often thought about it. After all, with his potential lifespan, he would outlive most of his friends, family, and companions. Perhaps they would make it to ascendence. Probably, even. But progressing beyond that point required focused effort. It didn't happen by accident, and reaching the next threshold and becoming a demigod would take decades of commitment, even from the talented. There was an element of fortune to it, too. Even if they were blessed with opportunity, most normal people would require centuries that they just didn't have.

Was the answer to just forego attachment?

Elijah shook his head. No. He couldn't do that. That strategy would result in the sort of life that just wasn't worth living.

So, it was with renewed understanding that he looked at the old man. "I'm sorry."

"My well-being is not your responsibility," the man sighed. "But I would ask that you do the thing I've never been strong enough to do. Please, defeat my daughter. Kill her if you must. But end her reign of terror."

Considering that was the only way to conquer the Primal Realm, Elijah could only nod. But he was interested in what the old man had mentioned when he'd first arrived. "You said something about captives. Where are they?" he asked.

The man waved his hand, and the ethera in the room came alive, twisting into knots until Elijah lost track of where one thread began and the others ended. It was one of the most complex things he'd ever witnessed.

"Solve the puzzle, and I will tell you what you wish to know."

Elijah shouldn't have expected anything else. "Any hints?" he asked.

"You should not need them."

Frowning, Elijah turned his attention to the knot of ethereal threads in the center of the room. Calling it a puzzle was a bit of a misnomer, because it wasn't really about piecing things together. Instead, his task was to pick the threads apart. The problem with that was that Elijah had never done anything of the sort. Certainly, he had no trouble sensing them via Soul of the Wild, but aside from shoving bits of his soul into various organisms, he'd had very little experience with the raw manipulation of ethera. Instead, he just used his spells and let them do whatever the system dictated.

He frowned, realizing that that wasn't necessarily true. He'd long known that his spells functioned on a spectrum of power. At the bottom was the default where the system dictated how much ethera was used, and to what results. However, he could flare the ethera consumption and push each spell's power a little higher. It wasn't a huge range, but it represented a notion he hadn't really considered.

"The system is just training us, isn't it?" he asked.

"Of course," answered the old man. When Elijah told the ancient prisoner what he was thinking, the man said, "It is far more complicated than that. Your class and archetype are your identity. They represent who you are on the deepest level. By the time you reach ascendence, it is all but set in stone. You can progress. You can shift course. But you will never escape your initial choice. However, what the most talented among us can do – what the system wants from us – is to improve upon its designs. Have you ever considered altering your spells without the aid of the system?"

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"They're too complex."

He held up a finger. "Aha – for now, they are!" the man exclaimed. "But what about when you become a demigod? A deity? Certainly, a transcendent has the power to do whatever he wishes. The system is not perfect. Close enough that, for you and me, it doesn't matter, but one day, you will find that you know better how to progress than the unfeeling system. That is what this puzzle is for. You must learn to manipulate ethera, directing it according to your own will. That is the second step toward writing your own story and forging your own path."

"The second? What's the first?" asked Elijah.

"Cultivation, child. Cultivation was there long before the system existed, and it remains the most important aspect of any individual's power."

"I was told that it is just one pillar, that it's no more important than a person's levels."

"Levels are merely a measure of progression. The three pillars – as they are often known – of power are attributes, spells, and cultivation. I believe the third is far more important than the others, but there are those who pursue attributes above all. Just as there are individuals who will constantly tinker with their spells, attempting to get the absolute most out of the concept. All are valid pursuits, but cultivation is the true measure of someone's commitment to their path," the old man explained. "As such, I find it the most rewarding."

Elijah couldn't help but nod along. Perhaps his perspective was influenced by the fact that he'd always had a talent for cultivation that others simply didn't seem to possess, but from the very beginning, it had been the reason for his survival. Whatever the case, he found that he agreed with the old man.

"A well-rounded approach is best, though," the man added. "Neglect one pillar, and you may remain standing. Neglect two, and you will surely fall. Now, I have offered more advice than is proper. Complete your test or suffer my wrath."

The last was said in the same kindly tone the man had used since the beginning, but Elijah knew better than to discount the underlying seriousness of the situation. So, he returned his attention to the tangle of ethereal threads.

For a few minutes, he circled the knot, studying how it fit together. "This reminds me of Christmas," he muttered aloud.

"What is Christmas?" asked the man curiously.

Elijah didn't look up from the tangle as he answered, "It's a religious holiday on Earth, meant to celebrate the resurrection of God's son, who he sent to Earth to be martyred for our sins."

"Sounds gruesome."

Elijah shrugged, peering closer. "I guess. But most people looked at it as an opportunity to be with family and friends, giving gifts to one another," he explained. "One of the traditions – at least in my country – was to decorate our houses with colorful lights. They came in these little strings, and we reused them year after year. Well, inevitably, when we stored them, they would get extremely tangled."

"Then they were not stored properly," the old man reasoned.

"Maybe. But the job usually fell to me and my sister, and we were kids. We took shortcuts, you know? Just stuffed them in a box and forgot about them until next Christmas," he said, smiling slightly at the memories. Decorating the house and the tree were some of the happiest times of his life. "But of course, when we got them out of storage the next year, they were so tangled that we begged our parents to just buy new lights. They didn't, and because I was the baby brother, my sister made me untangle them. It looked a lot like this mess."

After that, Elijah got down to business. At first, he needed to physically touch the threads he wanted to manipulate, then send a pulse of ethera down his fingers. However, after the hundredth plucked string, he'd grown confident enough to manipulate the energy without any help.

It wasn't easy – not at first – but so long as he kept the right frame of mind and focused properly, he could manage it. The process wasn't so dissimilar from flaring his spells to create a more powerful effect, though with the added difficulty of directing his intentions into a narrow focus. That allowed him to slowly pick apart the threads, and gradually, he gained confidence and speed.

And when he finally completed the task, he felt no small degree of pride.

That pride disappeared when the old man said, "The other one was much faster, but I sense that you do not focus on the magical arts. Tell me, child – what archetype are you?"

"I am a Druid," Elijah said without hesitation.

"Ah. And you completed the other three tests. Curious. Your kind rarely leave their groves."

Elijah shrugged. "I'm not really that kind of Druid. I love my grove, but I feel like there's more to life than just a bit of gardening." Experience tales at My Virtual Library Empire

The old man looked at him like he'd said something truly surprising. Then, he let out a great guffaw of a laugh that left Elijah stunned. "Gardening. Oh, how I would have loved to call it that in front of one of them. I doubt I would have been allowed to leave the grove alive!"

"You've visited a Druid's grove?" Elijah asked, very interested.

"Oh, I have. The galaxy grove of E'cintris. Of course, I was only allowed in the outskirts, but even that was one of the most beautiful things I have ever witnessed. I wish I'd had the opportunity to learn more."

"Galaxy grove? Is that to imply a grove the size of a galaxy?"

"Goodness no."

Elijah sighed in relief. The notion of a grove that size was enough to cause a panic.

"It was the size of a small solar system. Galaxy was a bit hyperbolic, but from what I understand, the archdruids in charge had plans for expansion."

Elijah's relief was short-lived. A solar system – even a small one, as the old man suggested – was unfathomably large, so the idea that a grove could reach that size made Elijah's stomach twist into knots not dissimilar from the ones he'd just unraveled. His only solace came from the notion that the whole thing might have been a story concocted by the system to give the Primal Realm an immersive backstory.

But he wasn't sure that was even how Primal Realms worked.

Regardless, it was clear that his time being tested was over, as evidenced by the sudden appearance of another portal. This one, Elijah knew, would lead him to the other side of the wall where he could rejoin his companions.

First, he needed a little information. "The captives. Where are they?"

The old man reached into his pocket and retrieved a piece of yellowed parchment. He handed it to Elijah, who realized only a moment later that it was a map. He even recognized the largest landmark – the wall. Unfortunately, their destination was a long way off, if his interpretation of the scale was even close to accurate.

"Thank you," Elijah said. "I'll do what I can to…free your daughter from her madness."

"It is not madness, child. She is perfectly rational. It is evil that has infected her, and the only freedom on offer is death. Deliver it to her, and I can go to my grave with an unburdened conscience."

It was a powerful statement, and one Elijah intended to take to heart. He nodded once again at the old man, and then, without further hesitation, strode through the portal and into the frigid cold of the Desolate Reach."