I stepped into the grove, my pace slowing as I let my senses roam free in the lush expanse. The air tasted sweet, carrying the scent of ripening fruit like a gentle lullaby. Soft green grass cushioned my boots, each step reminding me that this place thrived with a living energy.
Clan MacEwan dotted the orchard, their work guided by a natural grace I couldn't help but admire. They paused to test berries, coax herbs to ripen faster, or feed stubborn vegetables a spark of magic. Every movement shimmered with joy and oneness with Albion's land, a harmony I secretly longed to share.
Ahead, the great central tree rose like an old, moody guardian, its golden ambrosia fruit shining in the sunlight like tiny, captured suns. Carved into its trunk was a small door traced with looping Celtic spirals, their designs suggesting hidden truths. Nearby, Shae, a teenage girl from the clan.
Stood cradling a basket full of outsize apples and pears, her bronzed skin gleaming under the warm light. She caught me gazing at the door and offered a bright smile that felt like a sunrise cutting through an overcast sky.
"We think it's decorative," she said with a soft laugh, pointing at the carved portal. "No latch, no knob, nothing that'll open it."
I nodded, grateful for the insight. Shae balanced her basket and headed off, her steps light as if dancing with the breeze. My curiosity flared, so I let my magic flow toward the door to investigate. I sensed a flicker of energy under the wood, but it refused to budge when I pushed at it directly. I stepped back, examining the spirals.
Four of them joined in the center, a pattern that spurred a hunch.
I guided water magic to my fingertip and traced one spiral. The carving drank in the water element, turning into a subtle ripple. Buoyed by success, I repeated it with earth, then air, then fire.
Finally, I focused Light magic into the last swirl. Each element lit up in turn, their combined glow blooming at the door's midpoint in a sudden, blazing radiance. It felt almost like an ancient judgment passing through me.
Before I could react, the golden light blinked out, and the door simply melted away. A wide, quiet opening gaped like a tired giant's mouth. Darkness spread within, odd and inviting at the same time, beckoning me to step forward.
I stepped inside. Darkness wrapped around me, not menacing but calm and devout, as if the space welcomed reverence. A faint glow lit the interior, soft as moonlight through a window.
The walls, sculpted from the living wood, felt smooth when I touched them, carrying a gentle thrum of awareness I sensed through my Earth magic. The chamber took the form of a compact dome, roomy enough for a small group to sit comfortably or for two people to stand side by side.
At the center stood a simple bowl of polished wood, resting on a plain log pedestal. Mana radiated from it so thickly I almost thought I could wade through it. I ran my fingers along the wall, the wood pulse echoing my heartbeat.
I noticed the doorway behind me had vanished without a seam, leaving me enclosed yet oddly at peace. The aura here held no threat. Only a soothing stillness that suggested this place had been formed with deep purpose.
My thoughts turned to Moira. Since more people in Albion had awakened to magic, her guidance had grown quieter. Over two hundred newly empowered warriors and mages looked to her for lessons, and I felt her reduced presence as a missing warmth. Even so, she never failed to appear if I was truly in need. I wondered if now might be one of those times.
Curious, I approached the pedestal and willed a gentle flow of water to fill the bowl. It glowed faintly, as though energized by the liquid's arrival. Settling onto the smooth wooden floor, I closed my eyes and spoke in a soft tone.
"Moira… it's Robert. If you can spare a moment, I'd love a word."
The air inside the dome seemed to hum in response. My body tingled with mana, the raw energy of the tree coiling around me like living vines. A calm clarity settled in my mind, and I pictured Doras Dhagda in my imagination, bustling with training and construction.
Unbidden, I pictured Lillia weaving through her day with that silent joy that always made me feel at home. Her luminous presence glimmered in my thoughts, and I found myself smiling.
Yes, Lillia was… well, she was everything. Life and Light magic just suited her so perfectly. She healed people without hesitation, shared her warmth with everyone, and flitted from task to task like a living torch in the middle of a winter's night. She symbolized all that was good in this new world, and I silently thanked whatever fate had led her to me.
I let the peacefulness soothe me, letting each breath carry a bit more tension away. In the back of my mind, I remained aware of the clan's progress out in the orchard. They thrived under Moira's loose direction, practicing spells and harvesting the boosted crops.
This was what I wanted!
A community flourishing together, exploring magic in harmony. And Lillia was the bright center of that, holding a gentleness I had never found anywhere else.
Time seemed fluid here. I was just about to doze off when a gentle pressure registered in my mind. It felt like a door opening on the other side of the world, followed by a dear voice calling from afar.
"Open your eyes, you dork," the pressure teased. "I'm right here."
Startled, I blinked, and my breath caught. Moira's figure shimmered into view, sitting cross-legged across from me, with only the little wooden bowl between us. She looked almost solid, yet I sensed this was more of a projection. She was just a reflection of her presence from a distant realm. Copper-gold hair framed her lively green eyes, and the red-and-gold robes she wore shifted with quiet magic.
"You found yourself a neat little portal," she said with a grin. "There's a spot like this in Albion that I use to anchor my spirit. With all that mana swirling around you here, it's like we're actually in the same room."
She raised a hand in a gentle gesture, and though she couldn't physically touch my cheek, a soothing warmth washed over me. Her expression softened with regret.
"I'm sorry if I've been distant, Robert. The clan is hungry to learn, and teaching them has taken all my time. I knew you'd manage for a while, since you've been so capable on your own."
I took a slow breath, keeping my voice steady. "Yeah, we're doing alright. I just... miss having your help."
Moira's face brightened, her relief unmistakable. "Well, I'm here now. Talk to me."
I told her about my surge of power in the past day, how I'd poured a huge amount of M-Power into my growth. She listened closely, curiosity flickering in her eyes. Leaning in, she rested her chin on her hand.
"That's really impressive. It sounds like you're on the brink of a new milestone. Let's see how you might evolve."
She cupped her hands, forming three swirling lights that flickered with images of spells, artifacts, and silhouettes.
"Aetheric Weaver," she began, nodding to the first glow. "It's a creative path that mixes elements, perfect for someone with your inventive side."
"Elemental Architect," she went on, pointing at the second glow. "You shape the battlefield itself—terrain, barriers, magical structures. Great for controlling the flow of conflict."
"Mystic Catalyst," she said, tapping the final swirl. "Pure power, boosting your allies while unleashing devastating blasts. It's the heavy artillery approach."
She paused, giving me a playful arch of her brow. "Which resonates with you?"
I studied them, pondering my goals. "Architect is tempting, but I don't want to focus solely on war. Catalyst might be too much raw force."
Moira grinned. "That leaves the Weaver, an artful fusion of elements. Feels like it suits you."
Ideas flooded my mind. I pictured combining fire and water to make steam, or capturing lightning inside an earthen frame. With the right runic tools, I could craft items far beyond standard enchantments. I told Moira I wanted to benefit this growing community, not just tear down enemies. She nodded.
"Then it's settled," she said, snapping her fingers. "Aetheric Weaver it is."
A swirl of multicolored light glimmered around me, and a sudden jolt rippled through my magic channels, a sign of shifting alignments. It was like all of the veins and arteries were throbbing inside my arms, causing me to immediately feel light headed. Though, it was different than my blood pulsing through my body. It was like my spirit's pulse had swelled and re-aligned itself. Moira beamed, clearly delighted.
"Hang on tight," she teased. "You'll probably want to test your new abilities soon, especially now that Doras Dhagda is booming."
I exhaled, thinking that was all. Then her demeanor turned serious.
"Robert, there's one more thing. You're at a level where you can advance again sooner than expected. You might also consider taking on a second class."
My brow creased. "A dual specialization?"
Her gaze turned firm. "It'll slow your primary progression, but you'll unlock synergies that few can match. Or you can devote yourself to a single path for quicker advancement. Your call."
I mulled over her words, each option spinning through my mind. At last, I chose to evolve to level twenty. Moira presented two paths: Prismatic Magister and Elemental Ravager.
Her eyes shone sharply as she spoke in a steady, tempting tone."You could wield power that reshapes battlefields and crushes threats with force none can rival," she said. "But such strength comes at a price."A dark temptation bloomed inside of me. I pictured raw power surging through me, leveling armies and carving ruin with unstoppable might. My people would be kept just as safe if dangers simply vanished through erasure.... Right?
Moira tilted her head, listening to my thought process. Her expression softened.
"Or there is another path, one tied to the legacy you seek. A path of creation and endurance, shaping something that lasts long after hatred and violence fade. Your work will stand as a beacon for generations. You decide, Robert."
A faint pulse of mana rippled across the room, hinting at challenges yet to come. I recalled Langston's bracelet flickering in my memory, a sign of mysteries that still waited to challenge our endurance.
In that quiet moment within the hidden sanctuary, this pivotal fork in the road would determine every thing that followed.
Dear historian, if you have made it this far into my tale and my memories, your devotion to these rather fumbling beginnings honor me. But soon, the world will change. As I decided between ultimate power and eternal creation, The Warlock, too, was making a choice to invade our world.