Ethan’s head felt heavy, his vision swimming as he blinked his eyes open. The room he was in was dimly lit by shafts of sunlight filtering through cracks in the wooden ceiling above, creating a patchwork of warm light across the walls. Those walls, Ethan noticed, were lined with bundles of herbs, dried flowers, and clusters of mushrooms hanging from strings. The air was thick with the scent of soil, moss, and something faintly sweet, like honeyed bark.
A rhythmic grinding sound caught his attention. Turning his gaze, he saw a hooded figure hunched over a table, crushing herbs in a mortar and pestle. The figure’s movements were deliberate, almost meditative, as if every press and twist was a ritual. Despite his grogginess, Ethan activated his Appraisal skill.
[Druid: Level 55]
A master of nature’s gifts, attuned to the land and its creatures.
Druid…
A man of the earth, literally, Sys whispered dimly. I thought they had all but vanished after Gyko’s ascension. ‘Man of the earth’ wasn’t exactly a desired profession after the reign of that giant plant…
The figure turned his head slightly, as if sensing Ethan’s attention, though the hood obscured most of his face. Ethan tried to sit up, but his muscles protested, heavy and sluggish. The hooded man approached him, holding the mortar in one hand and dipping his fingers into the concoction he’d prepared. The mixture shimmered faintly, a strange green light pulsing within it.
“Stay still,” the man said, his voice deep and calming. He leaned over Ethan and smeared a streak of the glowing liquid across his forehead.
The world tilted. Ethan tried to speak, to question, but his limbs gave way, and the room dissolved into blackness.
“Breathe,” the old Druid told him. “And let your eyes close…”
Ethan was back in the forest, but it wasn’t the forest he remembered. The trees loomed impossibly tall, their branches clawing at the blood-red sky. The air felt thick and oppressive, each breath dragging against his lungs.
He was surrounded by shadows. Not the comforting, cloaking darkness of his Mana Veil, but a malevolent presence that seeped into his skin.
Laughter echoed around him, cruel and mocking. The Doctor’s voice. “Weak, Archon. Always weak.”
Ethan turned to see his companions, but their faces were twisted with rage and pain, their weapons raised against him. Fauna’s staff crackled with lightning, Tara’s daggers gleamed in the crimson light, and Klax’s claws dripped with blood. Even Lamphrey, usually composed, looked feral and unhinged, her mouth moving as if chanting a spell.
“I’m sorry,” Fauna whispered, her voice breaking. But her body moved without her control, her staff aimed directly at him.
“No,” Ethan growled, gripping Greybane. “I won’t fight you.”
But they didn’t stop. They surged toward him, weapons raised, and the Doctor’s laughter grew louder, his face appearing in the roiling clouds above.
“You can’t save them,” the Doctor taunted. “You can’t save anyone.”
Ethan swung Greybane in desperation, the blade slicing through the shadows, but it was like cutting smoke. The world began to spiral, the laughter growing deafening until Ethan screamed—
His scream turned into a gasp as he woke up, his chest heaving. The scent of herbs and earth rushed back to him, grounding him in the present. He blinked rapidly, his single crimson eye locking onto the face hovering above him.
It was the man from before, though his hood was now pushed back. He was old, with weathered skin that looked like the bark of an ancient tree. Twigs, leaves, and small blossoms were tangled in his long, knotted beard, and his hair fell in wild, silver waves. His green eyes glowed faintly, filled with a strange mixture of wisdom and weariness.
“Good,” the man said, his deep voice resonating in the small room. “You’re awake.”
Ethan’s body ached as he shifted, his muscles stiff and uncooperative. “Where…” he croaked, his voice hoarse. “Where am I?”
“You are in the Grove of Triant,” the man replied. “A sanctuary for those who serve the balance of the land.”
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Ethan furrowed his brow. “And… who are you?”
The man smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “My name is Malak. I am the caretaker of this Grove.”
Suspicion flickered in Ethan’s eye. He pushed himself up slightly, testing his limbs. “What did you do to me?”
“I healed you,” Malak said simply. “The battle you fought with the Red One took a great toll on your body. You should be grateful you survived at all.”
Ethan’s gaze hardened. “And…why did you help me?”
Malak’s smile didn’t waver, though there was a hint of amusement in his expression. “Because you called to us, Archon. Now, test your limbs. Make sure they work properly. Then, if you wish, I’ll explain.”
Ethan hesitated – especially as he now realized this man knew exactly who he was. He also didn’t remember sending out any call for help before he fell.But he flexed the fingers, toes, and shoulders of his Salamandrike Host all the same. To his relief, everything seemed to function, though his muscles still felt sore. Then, he suddenly turned back to Malak.
“My – the Hybrids,” he gasped. “Where –“
Malak held his shoulder with a steadying hand – one spattered with varicose veins like tree roots cascading down his bony fingers.
“Fine,” he said. “They are fine. They are being tended to by the other Brothers of my Order. We expected you would wake, first. By now, they should be coming around.”
Ethan narrowed his eyes at the old man.
Sys?
I can’t detect any deception from this old codger, Ethan. As far as I can tell, he’s being entirely truthful. At any rate, his ‘Order’ is so minuscule that they couldn’t possibly put up a fight against you even in your current state.
Ethan watched Malak for any signs of deception. But he, too, saw nothing. Sensed nothing. All he saw here was an old man covered in twigs, growing shrooms and probably high as a kite judging by the smell and the blue spider veins crisscrossing the whites of his eyes.
“Alright. Where am I, and what is this Grove?”
“Let me show you,” Malak said, rising from his seat. He gestured for Ethan to follow.
Ethan swung his springy legs off the bed and stood, his balance shaky but manageable. Malak pulled aside a curtain of vines that served as a doorway, leading them into a vast cavern.
Ethan’s breath caught. The cavern was immense, its walls covered in moss and glowing fungi that bathed the space in a soft, golden light. At its center was a spring of crystal-clear water, and rising from its depths was an ancient tree, its gnarled trunk thick and towering, its branches stretching toward the ceiling as if trying to touch the stars. The air was alive with the sound of rustling leaves and the faint hum of magic.
“What is this place?” Ethan whispered.
“The heart of the Grove,” Malak said. “This tree has stood for millennia, long before the time of Kaedmon. It is the source of our strength and wisdom.”
Before Ethan could respond, movement caught his eye. Shapes began to emerge from the water, humanoid figures made entirely of wood and vines. Their limbs were slender and knotted, their faces featureless save for glowing green eyes that radiated warmth and curiosity.
Ethan instinctively reached for Greybane, his muscles tensing.
“Easy,” Malak said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “They mean you no harm.”
The tree-creatures approached, their movements slow and deliberate. One reached out, its wooden hand brushing against Ethan’s arm. He froze, expecting hostility, but instead, he felt a strange sense of calm wash over him. The creature’s glowing eyes met his, and he realized there was no malice in them, only reverence.
Appraisal: Complete
Ally: Drytchlings [LVL 50]
Core Skills: Vine Boom, Root March, Hide, Barkskin
Malak chuckled. “The children of the Grove have waited for you for a long time, Archon Ethan.”
The humanoid treemen surrounded him like he was some kind of idle, their spindle-like, gnarled wood fingers tapping at his hat-form.
Ethan turned sharply to Malak, his suspicion returning. “How do you know my name?”
Malak’s expression grew serious, his glowing eyes locking onto Ethan’s. “You are exactly what we of the Order have sought ever since Gyko.”
Above, the circular balconies that lined the walls surrounding the great tree suddenly filled with light. From their lips appeared other men and women dressed in simple, ragged robes like Malak was, each one of them looking down at him and bowing low, with reverence.
What was that you said about these guys being almost extinct, Sys?
…Well, they aren’t far off it. If this old guy is any indication.
Sys, coming from sentient system more than four centuries old at this point, I gotta say: ‘pot, kettle.’
“You have come to us exactly when we needed you, Archon Ethan,” Malak said. “And we are here to provide you with the assistance you need to bring freedom to this realm. The Fifth Pillar stands at your command.”
Ethan blinked at the old man. “Fifth Pillar?”
The name was vaguely familiar. Back in Triant, Ethan had heard some whispered voices talking about them – in fact, he now remembered that those bandits on the road had been chatting about the group. Calling them ‘agitators’ and ‘heretics’.
So, when he looked down to see the old Druid showing him a faded arm tattoo - a tower standing tall with the sun behind it – Ethan met Malak’s face with a whole new set of eyes.
“We have always believed the Archons represent not only Hybrid freedom from the oppression of Kaedmon, but a new era for humankind, too.”
“You…you’re all human,” Ethan said – the sentence sounding just as bizarre and unnatural as the sight unfolding all around him right now.
Malak simply blinked up at him. “You did not think we were all as indoctrinated as those city-born ilk, did you?”
Ethan scratched his head. “I can think of at least one person who’s not gonna like this…”
And almost as soon as he’d voiced those words, a cry of rage echoed through the Grove.
“Get the FUCK off me! Touch me with those human flesh mits and you’ll lose ‘em, ya old bag!”
Sounded like someone else had just woken up.