In the dimly lit depths of Varenhall's hidden library, Ronan's fingers traced the spines of ancient tomes, each one a repository of untold wisdom and arcane knowledge. As he reached for a particularly weathered volume nestled high on a shelf, Minerva's voice echoed from below.
"Ronan, come down from there," she called, her tone conveyed her impatience. She tapped her foot on the soft carpet of the library. "I've found the book you need."
With a reluctant sigh, Ronan descended the ladder, carefully balancing the tome in his hands. As he reached the ground, Minerva gestured toward a nearby table.
Just then, they came face to face with a woman with rich black hair, brown eyes that looked like fresh soil, and pale skin. The woman's presence exuded an air of quiet confidence. Her gaze met Ronan and Minerva, and a smile formed on her lips.
"Good morning," she said warmly. "I couldn't help but notice the stacks of books and scrolls in your arms. It seems we share a thirst for knowledge." Ronan and Minerva exchanged glances, intrigued, they introduced themselves, and she reciprocated with a nod. Her voice was gravelly and rumbled like the earth during an earthquake. "My name is Indigena."
Secretly, Ronan wondered if everyone here was 'looking for knowledge.' This was the second time Tarnished had stated that they needed more knowledge.
Ronan and Minerva listened intently to Indigena's introduction, captivated by the deep resonance in her voice. They could sense that there was more to her than met the eye, an underlying connection to the natural world that resonated with their own abilities.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Indigena," Ronan said, a note of curiosity in his voice. "Your name reflects a strong connection to the earth. Are you familiar with the power of the Shardborne?" clearly trying the flattery approach Indigena's eyes flickered with a mix of intrigue and recognition. "Indeed, Ronan."
Indigena's face lit up with excitement. "I've been poring over these texts, hoping to unravel the mysteries of the shards and their connection to celestial events like Midwinter and Midsummer. If we're looking for the same knowledge, perhaps our paths are meant to converge."
Ronan snorted and said, "You believe in fate?" Indigena frowned at Ronan's words, her face scrunched up and went back to normal. Indigena's frown deepened at Ronan's question, her brow furrowing as she contemplated his words. After a moment of silence, she responded in a measured tone, her voice tinged with a hint of disappointment.
"Fate, you say? Perhaps not in the traditional sense, but there are forces at work in this world that we cannot fully comprehend. The interconnectedness of the shards, the celestial events, and our own paths may be guided by a deeper tapestry of existence."
Ronan's gaze softened as he absorbed Indigena's response, realizing that his skepticism may have come across as dismissive. He spoke, his voice filled with a touch of humility.
"I apologize, Indigena. I'll refrain from insulting your beliefs. So do you know how to use Shardbinding techniques?" Indigena's face brightened up when Shardbinding was mentioned.
"Oh, actually, yes. I'm what common folk call our kind Flora Verdantwild, which means Flora of the Green Forest" or "Flora of the Verdant Wood." "Flora" refers to plant life, and "Virensilva" combines the Latin words "virens" (green) and "silva" (forest or wood). So, the name suggests a lush and vibrant vegetation found in a forested or wooded area." Her voice died down at the end of her rant.
Minerva, ever the astute scholar, spoke up. "So what did you find on Shardbinding? We're here because my friend here," she pointed at Ronan, "has come into his power later in his life, so he is unaware of which path he should take."
Indigena's eyes gleamed with intrigue as Minerva mentioned Shardbinding. She nodded, understanding the importance of finding guidance in the midst of newfound powers.
"I have indeed delved into the ancient texts and tomes regarding Shardbinding," Indigena replied, her voice resonating with wisdom. "The path of Shardbinding is a complex one, intertwined with the power of the shards and the unique abilities they bestow. Each individual possesses a connection to a specific shard, and understanding that connection is crucial to unlocking one's true potential."
Ronan's gaze fixed on Indigena, his curiosity piqued. "Can you help me understand which shard I am connected to? I have only recently discovered my abilities, and I'm still unsure of the path I should take." Indigena's smile was reassuring. "Sure, Ronan. I can sense a profound connection within you, but it will require further exploration and introspection to identify the specific shard.
She had a small smile that accentuated her dimples. Then words tumbled out slowly and well worded she started, "I'll teach you, but you have to escort me to a town up in HoftCrose." Ronan nodded; he had been needing to get out of this place. The longer he stayed in Varenhall, the sooner he would get caught and tossed on his ass out of the city.
Indigena motioned for Ronan to follow her, leading him and Minerva to a secluded chamber within the hidden library. The room was adorned with ancient tapestries depicting scenes of mythical battles and magical beings, setting an atmosphere of reverence and mystique.
Taking a seat at a wooden table, Indigena gestured for Ronan to join her. "To discover your connected shard, we must delve into the depths of your being," she explained, her voice carrying a soothing cadence. "Close your eyes, Ronan, and focus on your breath. Clear your mind of any distractions, and allow your inner self to emerge. Oh yeah, and it's mostly random." She included the last part as if she almost forgot about that fact.
She then elaborated on what she meant by that. "From what scientists were able to find out about the ritual, it takes into account your unknown desires, history, attributes, and other things like family relations to determine which patron would take you."
Ronan followed Indigena's guidance, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He concentrated on the rhythmic flow of his breath, gradually letting go of the external world and delving into the depths of his own consciousness.
Indigena placed her hands lightly on Ronan's temples, her touch warm and comforting. "Now, Ronan, I want you to recall the first time you felt the surge of power within you. Remember the sensations, the emotions, and the circumstances surrounding that moment."
As Ronan delved into his memories, images and sensations began to surface. He remembered a night beneath a broken roof, a starry sky, the air thick with an electric charge. Runic flames danced around his fingertips as he instinctively summoned fire to ward off a threat. He recalled the intensity of the heat, the rush of adrenaline, and a deep sense of purpose.
But as Ronan delved deeper into the memory, the scene shifted unexpectedly. The starry sky vanished, replaced by a dark, empty room. The flickering flames transformed into dim, wavering torchlight, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Ronan found himself standing in the center of the room, his surroundings devoid of color, bathed in a desolate grayness.
In the corner of the room, a figure emerged, barely visible in the dim light. It was a tall, gaunt man, draped in tattered black robes
. His face was pale and gaunt, with sunken eyes that burned with a malevolent glow. Ronan's heart skipped a beat as he locked eyes with the figure, feeling a primal fear grip his soul.
The man's voice echoed in Ronan's mind, a haunting whisper that sent shivers through his entire being. "You dare to seek the powers of death," the figure hissed, his words dripping with malice. "But do you comprehend the darkness that awaits? The price you must pay for such forbidden knowledge?"
Ronan tried to retreat, to escape the suffocating presence of the figure, but his feet remained rooted to the ground. The room seemed to close in around him, as if the very walls were alive, pulsating with an ominous energy.
The figure took a step closer, its movements unnatural and unsettling. "Beware, Ronan," it intoned, its voice a chilling echo. "The Death Shard beckons, promising untold power and dominion over life and death. But know this: once you tread this path, there is no turning back. The darkness will consume you, and all that you hold dear."
As the vision began to fade, Ronan gasped for air, his body drenched in cold sweat. Minerva and Indigena rushed to his side, alarmed by his distressed state.
"Ronan, what happened?" Minerva asked, her voice filled with concern.
Ronan struggled to find his words, his voice trembling. "I... I saw a figure, a horrifying man speaking of the Death Shard. He warned me of the darkness that awaits, the steep price I must pay."
Indigena's expression turned grave, her eyes wide with disbelief. "The Death Shard?" she murmured, her voice laced with uncertainty. "I have never heard of such a shard, this is a new discovery. Its existence and its dangers are unknown to me."
Ronan's mind raced with questions and fears. The encounter with the figure had shaken him to his core, raising doubts about his path and the nature of the powers he sought.
"We must proceed with utmost caution," Indigena cautioned, her voice tinged with concern.
Ronan's nod held unease. The encounter had unsettled him, yet he couldn't resist the magnetic pull he felt toward the mysterious powers of the Death Shard. He knew he had to plunge deeper into this enigma, even if it meant confronting his deepest fears and the encroaching darkness within.