By the time I finish examining the Core, I have a lot to think about. My thoughts whirl even as I soak luxuriously in my hot bath for a while, automatically absorbing the highest ambient Energy concentration that collects in that room.

  Although I didn’t dare touch the Core at any time, I was able to confirm a few things. It indeed creates a soul link to the user – that was obvious when it reached out for my soul as soon as I brought my ‘domain’ within a few centimetres of the Core’s surface. It’s eagerness to reach out with a connection even without anyone holding the handle was a little chilling. Though, repeating the experiment once I got over my instinctive distaste for connections reaching out for me without my instigation, I realised that the threads looked rather similar to the Bonds I create with Dominate. Understandable, I suppose, considering the story that Flower told us.

  Inspect was both informative and not. Evidently, the Core is not classed as ‘living’ which is good to know. As a result, I didn’t get any of the usual information I would receive from creatures or plants. At the same time, it was unable to identify whether the Core was dangerous or not, shading it in a bright silver colour that I haven’t seen before. But the feeling I got from the return of the pulse I sent out was that it is powerful and as potentially useful as it is dangerous. Which, honestly, is not much I didn’t already know.

  I was also able to confirm that the Core has its own power source, and is probably somehow able to replenish it given that it’s still there despite however much time since it was last used. Whether it replenishes it by drawing on its users or it’s able to absorb ambient Energy, I can’t tell. However, it’s evident to my eyes that the slow shifting of movement within is indeed Energy.

  The Energy is held inside by an interesting matrix of golden lines, almost like an internal matrix except far less complex. The lines are very faint, even to my magic sight, and I think it’s only the familiarity I have with internal matrices that allows me to see it at all. But its presence makes me wonder about something.

  When I first arrived in this world, I was given several magical stones. One that gave me my Tamer Class and access to the system of improvement thanks to which I’ve advanced to the point I have. Another gave me my Lay-on-Hands Skill. Several others gave me knowledge about a variety of concepts which have helped me survive this long.

  Obviously, when I absorbed those stones, I didn’t have access to the same senses as I do now. I couldn’t examine them with my magical sight, nor had I any idea about matrices, internal or otherwise. But I now wonder whether if I had, I’d see any similarities to this Core that’s now lying in the corner of the room, away from where I might accidentally brush against it when getting out of my bath. Even if I did, it’s wrapped again in silk so hopefully it wouldn’t do anything to me even if I touched it.

  The memories I received all that time ago about the System, and was fortunately able to preserve thanks to my increased Intelligence stat, don’t carry much information about Skill or Class stones. They indicate that they exist – which I already knew from the fact that I’d held examples in my hands – and that they are an imprint of the original Class or Skill from an experienced user. A Master, in fact, at the very least.

  This Core is far rougher than any in my memories – both from the stone and of my own experience – and it seems to have a slightly different function, but I can’t help thinking that maybe I can learn something from it which will enable my village to progress, even in my absence.

  After all, I now have three Skills in the Master ranks. And a nunda friend who – if I bribe her enough to forgive my rudeness earlier – might be willing to help me learn how to print my internal matrix on something.

  That thought makes me pause. Kalanthia did imprint her blueprint on Lathani, but it led to significant implications for herself and her capabilities. To the tune of one of her Skills being reduced by ninety percent, the only ways of regaining it being Lathani Evolving or dying.

  It’s a sobering thought. After all, my three Skills at Master are only there because I use them so frequently. Dominate, Energy Manipulation, and Flesh-Shaping are really the backbone of my capabilities. Losing access to one or having it severely impacted could be a disaster for me – and for all those who depend on me.

  But at the same time, having a Skill which can be used by anyone who holds the Core…that’s something which doesn’t exist in my memories of Nicholas’ world, so whether it’s something they don’t do or simply something not included in the stone, I don’t know. Or perhaps it’s that others have tried and discovered that the attempt is too dangerous – for the creator or user. Or both.

  I’ll have to be careful about it, I decide.

  I have a feeling that destroying the Core will be easy enough; I can probably just crush it to pieces and be done with it. I doubt that the delicate matrix held within the Core would continue to exist when it’s in shards. But whether I want to do that immediately is another question. I’m wary about using it – the story about the souls being sucked out of those Bound by the Core is chilling. But at the same time, maybe I could learn something about its construction before destroying it.

  I decide to head to bed and consider all of this in the morning. Stepping out of the bath and onto the soft hide that covers the cold stone floor, I take a moment to dry myself.

  Magic makes life so much easier. Instead of needing a towel, I just focus on infusing the water on my skin and puddling around my feet with my magic. Water-Shaping then makes it easy to pull away a ball of liquid from my body and the floor, drying me better than the softest, most absorbent towel ever. The water returns into the bath and I pull the fire magic out of it to retrieve the heat.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Aingeal isn’t with me so I can’t feed it the magic. Instead, I absorb it myself, sensing that I lose something in the transfer, but at least regaining a portion of what I committed to heating my bath. I don’t bemoan not having Aingeal around, though, considering where it is right now.

  The fire elemental decided to stay with Happy in the forge – I think the samuran is planning on taking out her feelings about Flicks’ death on some poor lumps of metal and she needs Aingeal to help control the temperature of the fire. I hope that she doesn’t keep the whole village awake, but I wouldn’t blame her if she did.

  The two of them were close friends due to Flicks having been one of her apprentices before Happy sent the Unevolved to me when he proved to be more interested in fire than smithing. After Flicks Evolved to become Fire-whisperer, she returned to Happy, the two of them working and experimenting together. Before her life was cut short by an invading band of samurans. Happy may even have seen her die.

  I breathe in and then out deeply and slowly, not wanting to undo all the good that my bath has granted me in relaxation after the long and fraught day. Two fights, too many deaths, and a headache in terms of the two Pathwalkers who belong to the red tribe leader’s village rather than Flying-blade’s.

  I decide to sleep in this room even if I have a room of my own – the trickling of the water is soothing, and it’s one of the best spaces for Energy in my den, apart from next to the Pure Energy stream itself. It’s a little small and confined for my tastes, but at least I don’t need to worry about suffocation – the small ventilation holes I built into the structure when working with Kalanthia to create the den ensure a steady supply of air while not letting too much Energy out.

  Pulling out my mattress, I lay it on the ground. I’m tempted to call for Bastet – see if she wants to cuddle up to me while I sleep. I have to admit that I’ve got used to sleeping with at least one of my Bound nearby all the time. I dismiss the idea after a moment, though, eyeing the Core tucked into the corner of the room. Even wrapped in silk, it seems to have a malevolent presence – or perhaps that’s just my imagination. Either way, I don’t want to risk one of them to accidentally come into contact with it.

  Even when I’m lying down, I find my brain refuses to shut down. Images of my villagers lying dead on the ground intrude without my permission. Blood soaking into the earth, entrails exposed to the air, throats slashed, scales cut or crushed, bones broken…. My people didn’t die easily or cleanly. They weren’t animals led to the slaughter, but warriors, whether Evolved or not. They fought for their home; for their people. And they made their enemies pay for their victory, pay for every metre of the village they advanced. Even if that meant that their own deaths were far harder than they might have been.

  I suddenly realise, in the dark of the room, even the torch extinguished, that I’ve been unconsciously focussing on the puzzle of the Core for a reason: distraction. And now that that target of my focus has been put aside, my thoughts circle me like hounds, each lunging in for an attack when my back is turned.

  Despite my exhaustion, sleep takes a long time to come.

  *****

  I’m back on the battlefield. My people are dying around me, the enemy Warriors and Pathwalkers we face are far too strong for me. I grip my spear and yell encouragement, my voice sounding like it’s coming from underwater. My people call back at me, sounds emerging from their throats which I’ve never heard before, yet don’t question.

  We run towards the enemy, our weapons held before us, but roots rip up through the ground, impaling those around me. I see River, a root emerging from her eye socket, her eye hanging by its stalk. Shrieks too, fixed in place by roots wound around his legs – before they grow sideways and pull him in two, blood showering them and making them grow ever faster. Everywhere I look, I see people I recognise as members of my village dead or dying, torn apart before they can even face those attacking them.

  Catch is ahead of me, his spear held in a strong grip. I try to yell a warning but my voice won’t cooperate. A massive root shoots up at him from below, throwing him into the air. He never returns to the earth – the root grows through him and holds him lifted in the air, a gruesome decoration on a mockery of a Christmas tree.

  Bastet is suddenly in front of me, Lathani at her side. My eyes widening in fear, I know what’s about to happen. Screaming, I stumble forwards, but my steps feel like I’m moving through mud and they don’t seem to hear my voice.

  A faceless samuran steps forwards. And then I realise that she’s not faceless – it’s Flying-blade! With a mocking sneer on her face, her mouth twisting in ways that I’ve never seen a samuran capable of before now, she flicks her hands towards my companions.

  Abruptly, spears zoom in from all angles, piercing my friends before they can take a single step more – or before I can save them.

  Then Flying-blade lifts a familiar object into the air – the black Core. I feel paralysed with terror. She’s going to rip them away from me, turn them against me. I just know it.

  “You can save them, you know,” a quiet voice says in my ear, almost whispering.

  “I can’t!” I groan. “I can’t save anyone.”

  “Yes you can. When they’re all yours, no one will be able to hurt those who are precious to you.”

  I turn my head but I see no one. Instead, I suddenly realise that there’s something in my hand which wasn’t there before. The Core, held by the handle of woven roots that wrap around it. I look back at Flying-blade – she’s not holding the Core any more. Instead, she’s moving almost in slow motion, spears lifted in the air by her telekinesis and ready to slam into Lathani and Bastets’ heads.

  And then I suddenly realise something that I should have noticed before. Too many odd things that I hadn’t questioned. Like Flying-blade’s presence when I know I killed her. Or the fact that I haven’t even considered using magic.

  “I’m dreaming aren’t I?” I question the air. Everything goes quiet, the movement around me slowing to almost a standstill.

  “Yes, you’re dreaming,” that voice says again. “So win your victory, convert your opponents into your allies, and take back your destiny. For what appears in dreams will appear in reality too.”

  I frown at that, a sudden sense of foreboding clawing at me. After my experience in the last few days, I know better than to dismiss that. Something isn’t right here, and it’s not just the gruesome corpses fading in and out of existence. I look around me carefully but see no signs of whoever has been speaking.

  “Show yourself!” I order the voice.

  here!

  here!

  here