Silax was back at his cabin, his brow was furrowed in concentration as he ran his fingers along the worn leather spine of a tome.
Moonlight streamed through the window right onto the desk, illuminating countless scrolls and weathered books scattered all over the table. He wasn't seeking new knowledge tonight but was rather drawn to the comfort of the familiar passages within.
With a sigh, he eased himself into a chair and carefully lifted the book. He looked at the faded script on the cover, proof of the countless times he had handled the book. He had read this book several times, its pages filled with the lore of ancient ruins and the whispers of forgotten magic.
This wasn't just any book, it was a treatise on Asorin; the World Tree, its enigmatic properties, and the whispers of forgotten power that it held. All the books and scrolls currently scattered in front of him had something to do with Asorin. There were fairytales, poems, reports of people who claimed to have seen it, and even a map that supposedly pointed to its location.
Silax had pieced together all the information in them and realized that they spoke of certain ruins. These were no ordinary ruins; they information he drew out of the several books pointed to their connection to the very essence of creation, the power to heal and revitalize flowing through their moss-covered stones.
It detailed architectural marvels, cryptic wards, and the potential dangers that lurked within these hallowed remnants. The ruins were said to hold the power of Asorin itself, a tree said to be a mythical source of life and magic.
Memories flickered to life, superimposed on the text, the stern face of a Vanir from his tribe swam into view, he didn't even know the name of this elf, but he this was the man that put him on the path and obsession with the World Tree.
It was a time when he was still sickly, and all he spent his time doing was read. He was sitting in a garden, reading, when a shadow fell across the page, he looked up to find a face with an eyepatch on the right eye looking down at him.
The man walked next him and just stood there, hand behind his back, eyepatch on his right eye, and his silver hair catching the moonlight creating a sort of aurora around it.
Silax looked around and asked cautiously:
"Is something wrong?"
The man smiled, a rare sight that made creases at the corners of his usually stoic face.
"Nothing wrong, child. Just an evening stroll that brought me to the gardens."
This wasn't the first time he met this man, but he remembered this night vividly, because that was when things truly changed for him, his outlook on life, his goals and how to achieve them.
Over the past few months, he'd become a familiar guest. Their conversations were always wide-ranging, each more thought-provoking than the last.
The first time they met, the man had come to visit his parents, and as he was leaving, he saw Silax reading a fairytale on Asorin. That day he spoke about Asorin being a real tree somewhere out there, a mythical source of power with life-giving magic, a life force capable of shaping reality itself.
Silax listened, captivated, a seed of yearning taking root in his heart. He thought of the possibility of him being healed from the sickness that ailed him.
Another time, the topic shifted to harnessing the Asorin's power.
"Silax."
He began, his voice low like rustling leaves.
"Tell me, have you ever wondered about the power of the World Tree, or how it affects our world?"
The man spoke of ancient rituals, dangerous challenges, and the sacrifices one might be required to make. He spoke of artifacts scattered throughout the land, each said to hold a fragment of the World Tree's essence.
His words sparked a fire of ambition in Silax, a desire to be the one to unlock its secrets.
He had always been quiet and reserved due to his health condition, he never spoke, except when he and his parents were alone. That led to people usually disregarding and not taking notice of him, which led to them showing their true selves when they were around him.
Slowly, he began to realize that the world didn't work the way he thought it did, he saw how those around him really were, and he began to wish to be able to do things himself.
Then came the night that changed everything. The man's demeanor was different from usual, there was an unsettling intensity to him, unlike the calm wisdom Silax had come to know him for. The man spoke of their world, a place where anything could be achieved, as long as one had the means.
"In this world anything can be achieved, if you have the strength to take it. Power grants freedom, freedom to build, to heal, to protect, but also freedom from consequences. Everything and anything bends to power, it can be a seductive mistress."
The man paused and raised his hand to his face, he rubbed his eyepatch where his right eye was supposed to be.
"Although freedom isn't always freeing, in the quest for freedom you become enslaved to attaining it. The lines between right and wrong can blur, and before you know it, you're lost in the pursuit of your own desires."
Silax felt a knot of unease tighten in his stomach. Was he hinting at something darker? Was there a cost to wielding such power beyond the physical? Was there a line between ambition and moral decay?
The man offered no answers, only questions that echoed in his mind long after he disappeared back into the night.
For months Silax pondered on what he would do, and how far he was willing to go to acquire the power to do whatever his heart desired. He wondered if such power was worth it, if in the end he lost himself.
One thing was certain: Asorin was no longer just a story, and Silax was caught squarely in its path. He had always craved knowledge, but a new hunger for it had awoken in him.
Silax closed the book he was reading, the memory of that night fading back into his mind. The weight of countless rereads held no comfort this time, this was different, this was the eve of discovery. The weathered pages held echoes of the past, but his own story was about to unfold.
Years of preparation, fueled by countless nights spent with these very texts, culminated in this moment.
He glanced out the window, the first rays of dawn painting the sky in hues of rose and gold. He had spent the whole night awake, not getting a wink of sleep, but weirdly enough he felt energized. It was time, armed with knowledge both ancient and personal, he was ready to claim his place in the unfolding legend.
He carefully packed his provisions and set them aside. The ruins awaited, and with them, perhaps, a glimpse of the Asorin's legendary power. He stepped out of his cabin; it was time to see what Jack had for him.