Jordan Rai
The Mage of Tarravale: The Poisoned Stone
"Even the Fae are fallible", Gendell stated. For most of his life, he had walked the length of his secluded garden study daily. No walk, however, had Gendel feeling as much gravity and meaning as it did today. He paced the inside perimeter with his left hand trailing to lightly stroke the leaves of the hedges. Occasionally, a chill would run down his spine, a feeling that he was not alone. He attributed this to the spirits of the garden or the tree sprites getting up to mischief, though they had never made him feel uneasy before. After completing this round two or three times, he found himself before his ancient workbench, letting his fingers trace the protective runes his grandfather had carved long ago. The runes were meant to enhance the flora magic that coursed through their family's veins. They were deeply cut into the wood and half filled in with the dust and debris from the herbs that three generations of Mages had worked on over it.
He felt like watchful eyes were fixed upon him for a fleeting second, though shrugged it off as being nervous from the work he had just completed. The Life stone, which had been poisoned for six years, rendered useless and barren, could live again. Even the Fae who created the six stones Durian, brought life to the dungeons, and bestowed other gifts onto the world could not revive it. Yet he, a young adult Flora Mage, had solved the puzzle and brought a small shard of the stone to life. Though the Fae had always seemed unreachable, god-like almost, Gendel couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. "Yes even Fae are fallible," he whispered. However, a slight chill went through him at that thought.
He gazed around his garden, a beautiful mix of common and rare plants. This is where it all started when he took on this task. He noted the many herbs contained within the eight-foot tall hedge walls: Frost Fern, Whisper Willows, common Lillies, ember root, starlight moss, opal orchid, and, of course, silver sage. These plants and many more formed the basis of his six years of research. All beautiful, all unique, and all very well cared for. Even his grandfather, Alaric, had sought out a few plants to aid in Gendel's research, and he took great pride in caring for them. After all, he, too, was a Flora Mage. Even out of practice, his grandfather seemed quite powerful and in tune with nature, often accompanied by tree sprites and calling on his house plants to assist in household chores that he was getting too old to keep up with. The last few years had seen him become more frail, and Gendel noted that the past year had been tough on him, and with a dwindling number of healers, his essential health had begun to suffer.
Six years without the life stone had meant six years without new healers. The loss of the stone had devastated the world's inhabitants, from adventurers to traders. The balance of gifts and the economy had taken a toll. Prices for simple heals had climbed to new heights, and adventurers had to scale back their operations for fear of harm. Trade between the major cities had slowed due to adventurers not bringing in as big hauls and some outright shutting down their operations, deeming it too risky.
Not only was the economy suffering, but the general mood in the universities was in a horrible state. When a person turns fifteen, they can make their Ascendancy pilgrimage by the law of the Fae. During this pilgrimage, they and a trusted adult adviser journey to one of the large, crystalline, floating stones outside the primary cities. It's there that they can then ascend into the stone by placing a hand firmly on it and interfacing, or more accurately, being absorbed into it to awaken their magic potential.
Six years of fifteen-year-olds who were finally able to make their Ascendancy Pilgrimage and those hoping to ascend with the Life stone were forced to take a different path. Children being forced to learn another magic of which they had no intention of ever studying and didn't align with their goals wasn't great for morale. It hadn't been easy on him either. For six years, he shuttered himself away from the general public, only venturing outside his garden or the forest around him to trade for herbs and other goods. He had spent countless hours working through the night and only enjoyed the company of his grandfather, who urged him not to sacrifice his relationships in this endeavor. He felt he had to do this, though, and now, as he held the warm fragment in his hand, it all felt worth it to him.
He bent forward and cupped his hands over one of the Opal Orchids on the great table.
"I can't say I've been lonely, though," he spoke to it. "Not with Grandpa and all of you to keep me company." The orchid danced between his hands, and the leaves grew slightly to clasp each of his. He did wonder what it would have been like to have gone on his mission with friends, though. While he wasn't the most social, having tea with someone other than Grandpa could have kept things more lively.
He shook his head at these thoughts as he let go of the small plant. All academic Mages were tasked with the same job. "Sacrifice everything for the greater good". That was the last thing the headmaster said before dismissing them all to their studies. It was meant to be lonely, and while they didn't seem to enforce strict governance over them, Gendel was so consumed with his quest that he naturally drifted away from society and got to work.
A soft rustling brought Gendel back to his table, scattered with notebooks, herbs, spices, and various jars of liquid extracts.
The autumn air danced around him in his study, leaves drifting to the ground, and the brisk wind tousled his messy hair. With a calm demeanor, he placed a hand on the workbench before him and let his fingers dance along the golden petals of the beautiful Ardent Rose that had once belonged to her. The moment he touched it, it bloomed with a radiant light. Since passed to him, it has acted almost as a barometer for his mood, wilting during times of uncertainty and hesitation and blooming during his triumphs. He uttered a single simple statement, "I've done it, Mother."
The waves of relief washed over him just as a pinpoint sting was felt on his neck, which he raised his hand to, but nothing was there. He dismissed it while he took in the gravity of what this would mean for the world's people. He felt a strange and new euphoria; his vision clouded, filling his eyes with tears from his achievement. A tingling sensation began to crawl like ivy from his legs to his neck, and a warm grasp hugged his shoulders tight like an embrace from a dearly missed loved one. He became dizzy from the excitement, and finally, he collapsed. The last thing running through his mind was a distant memory of his mother and father returning from the Fangborn dungeon. How great it was to see them again, to be held by them, and to hear their laughter and stories from their time away. "I wonder if I'll find them again," he wondered before his body lay motionless on the cold stone ground.
From a hidden perch atop the trees growing behind the hedges came a satisfied yet melancholy voice, "It's done; he's gone." said the shadowy figure. "The stonekin can have him now." The voice disappeared almost as swiftly as it had arrived.
***
The setting sun hung low in the sky, casting shadows against the endless landscape of sand. The deserts of Pyrantium are a harsh and ruthless place for anyone unprepared to meet their relentless embrace. Despite its danger, the desert is strikingly beautiful, with rolling dunes and shifting sands that seem to stretch infinitely.
Gendel lay motionless, his body nestled in the searing sunbaked sand. His once vibrant emerald eyes now dimmed from the relentless sun. The poison, a sinister force that had invaded his body, had rendered him immobile. His pale skin had begun to burn and blister, and his lips were dry and cracked, layered with dust and blood while pleading for moisture. Even his dark brown hair was so filled with dust that it was almost the color of the ground. His parched throat ached with each breath while his body writhed from the poison.
Then, like a mystical mirage in the desert, a dark figure appeared on the horizon. Gendel could barely open his eyes, but with each attempt, he saw more of the form as it ventured closer to him. At first, he could scarcely make out the silhouette of a human approaching, a slender figure with a dark flowing cape and hood. Each step gliding closer toward him took on new shapes, all seeming to be modeled after people and creatures that seemed vaguely familiar to him. During this game of disguises, Gendel concluded this would be his end. At this moment, he was unsure of who he was, where he was, or why he felt such imminent dread, but he was sure this was the end of it.
Finally, the figure was upon him. With a graceful gesture, it removed its hood and knelt beside him. The figure was a woman, an elf, to be precise. She had golden hair, pale with pink-toned skin, and sharp, angular features, though Gendel was sure he had no idea who she was. She knelt beside him, and he mustered his strength to utter but one weak and raspy word, "Please."
"Rest now," she replied, her voice as gentle as the breeze through the trees of Tarravale. She gently placed her hand under his shirt and onto his chest. He felt warm energy covering him like a wool blanket on a wintry evening. It was a matter of seconds before he succumbed to sleep.
The boundary between dream and reality blurred as Gendel, the Flora Mage, fought for control over the poison inhabiting his body. He would come in and out of consciousness only to catch glimpses of his elven savior working around him. In the unforgiving deserts of Pyrantium, it's here that Gendell would embark on a journey that would not only cross the arid sands but traverse the nature of destiny itself.