Chương 25: Chapter 24 - Echoes of the Dream

Mira's POV Miralda stood with her back to a battlewagon, one hand on her hip and the other on her blade. The search of the bandit camp continued at a reasonable pace, and she felt no shame that her weapon was the first item recovered, the only shame she felt was for the unmitigated disaster that this expedition had turned into. Afterall a guard without her arms was no guard at all, and even if she could easily eradicate any reasonable threat, even on the border of a third tier zone, she took her duty seriously.

The debt she owed to Eldric was ancient by modern accounting, but the well of her gratitude ran deep and she would sooner shatter her own soul than let little Varren's daughter come to harm. This patrol was intended to be a gentle blooding, let her slay a few monsters under Mira's watchful eye, gain the last few levels in her tier and build some solid experience as a leader and a warrior, hopefully improving her class choices for the next tier.

Sure, every frontier patrol always ended with at least a couple assholes being thrown in irons, human nature being what it was. They always found some people falling to corruption or lawlessness, but never more than a handful. An entire bandit camp with dozens of men, well supplied, coincidentally on their patrol route? Not very likely. Throw in the slave collars and that fact a few of the bastards had even managed to break into the third tier, the whole thing reeked.

Mira nodded to one of the men as he handed her a pile of loose papers and correspondence he pulled from the leader's cabin. This isn't going to be a simple affair, she could feel it in her bones. She sighed as she cast her eyes skyward, admiring the wild currents of mana drifting between Caelwyn and its ring, taking solace in the endless cycle of renewal; the thick canopy above was little more than a morning mist to her eyes.

A contented smile crossed her face, from the outside her current duty would seem to be pure drudgery to her peers in the higher tiers, but with age came wisdom, and with advanced age came perspective. Life and fate can be fickle, the best moments flickering past in the blink of an eye, and the worst stretching out to eternity.

Miralda had learned a long time ago that the detached perspective of her peers only hastened the passage of time and deepened the rift between them and the societies that from which they had originated. Even old fogey's like Bob would tell you to treasure the little things, only the newly ascended felt the need to stay aloof and separate themselves from the rest of the world. She understood, she really did.

As your tier increased your life span ballooned exponentially, and it was hard to watch the ones you cared about fall to the ravages of time. Mira knew the truth though, she still remembered the words of her master. What is the point of living forever without all the interesting points in between?

Who lived a longer life: some old doddering man who spent an eternity sweeping the dust out of an old monastery on an empty mountaintop, or one man in a traveling minstrel troupe surrounded by dozens of friends and hundreds of fans? What do you think, little one, hmm? The tides come for us all in the end. It took Mira a long time to find her own truth, but in the end, the journey was valuable in its own right. Miralda glanced down at the wagon wheel beneath her with a fond sigh.

All told, her most recent charge had been both challenging and rewarding in equal measures. The poor child might very well be a once in a generational talent, but that brought its own difficulties. She fought with the ferocity of a cornered adder and learned as quickly as the most ancient serpents, often needing only a few examples to make a technique her own.

Oh so many coveted her talent, hoping to bend her strength to fuel their own ambitions, and oh so many more assumed that her talent indicated indolence and sloth, seeking to smother the ember of talent beneath a mountain of luxury and decadence. Miralda stretched and yawned, flicking her tongue with a satisfied sigh, before shaking her head with a derisive snort. If only the wretches knew the hard work her Lady put in to grow her skills.

It said more of her admirers that in her place they would fall to redolence and rot than any comment on her Lady's character. As she gazed downward she watched fondly as her Lady snored loudly leaking a puddle of drool in the lap of her new friend. This experience will most definitely be a trial for her, and one probably more difficult than Mira would have chosen for her, but in the end it was also an opportunity. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

After all, an adversity endured made a fine fuel for one's path. Her Lady was truly special, she might even shatter the ceiling that Miralda herself had spent so many years pressing against, truly a treasure, but only time would tell. As Miralda turned her gaze to her Lady's new companion she arched a brow once again at his unexpected level of perception, the mere brush of her gaze causing him to shift in his sleep.

Even with the deep weariness caused by trauma of the soul, he was alert enough to shift his head in her direction, if not coming to full wakefulness. Just as her gaze could pierce the canopy above to watch the heavens, the flesh of the young man before her was no obstacle. He must be quite the resilient one given the deep cracks riven through his soulform, especially considering she could catch a faint whiff of the waters of samsara. Resilient indeed. Maybe her Lady's words held more truth than she expected.

As she watched her Lady's brow furrowed only for one of her Lady's hands to leave the hilt of her sword to clutch the hand of her new companion. As the touch of his hand the wrinkle in her brow eased as she shuffled to settle into a more comfortable position before easing back into a deep sleep. A warm smile graced Miralda's lips, well if even a fraction of the ridiculous claims her Lady spouted were true maybe this young man was worth her attention.

As her Lady squeezed his hand in her sleep with a soft sigh, Miralda revised her estimation. No, no matter what, he was worth a little investment, after all a journey was best measured by the connections you made along the way. A soft breeze drifted through the camp, Miralda's eyes tracked its motion with unerring accuracy, as it wended its way between the disheveled tents and busy soldiers, crossing to the pair at her feet swirling around her Lady and her new friend, before shifting skyward tousling Mira's hair.

Her gaze shifted back to the activity in the camp with a soft smile, definitely worth my attention. How long has it been since she last came across the scent of her dear master's oldest friend?

Elias's POV Relief washed through me as I began to feel a sense of control again. I relaxed slightly as the influence of the water faded from my mind, but in that moment I knew that no matter what happened I needed to keep this source of energy going I would be subsumed again.

Turning inwards I studied the pattern watching the energy ripple through my form with the razor sharp focus of a man knowing that this was a matter of life and death, as primal and vital as the fire which sustained our ancestors through the dark and cold of cruel and uncaring world. Somehow I knew that if I allowed this ember to fade I would cease to be, and existential dread can be a hell of a motivator.

As the pattern continued I realized two things, one there was some energy loss happening through my extremities, and two the pattern felt familiar. I realized the need to retain what energy I could given how much effort it took to ignite the ember, as I wasn't sure I could repeat the action if it gutted out.

The propagation pattern tickled something on the edge of my memories, it didn't look like the purely outwardly radiating one would expect through a void of empty space, but more hazy with like shimmer of heated pavement in the desert air or the ripple of a pot of water on the verge of boiling. I focused on one of the waves of heat and found that when I put enough focus in I could ever so slightly affect the movement.

With a thrum of excitement and hope running through me I spent what felt like hours but could have easily been days slowly shaping the energy into the pattern I saw hinted at in the previous waves, a convection pattern. I shaped the nebulous from billowing waves into a series of rushing channels, rushing out to my exterior to push back the warmth, and then returning to the ember at my core for renewal, before starting the cycle all over again.

As the pattern began to take shape the renewed pressure of fresh billowing out to the surface of my form caused it to stabilize and thicken, and as the energy loss dwindled, I felt a wave of relief. Crisis averted, I realized I now have my work cut out for me, since the cycle while mostly self perpetuating is not automatic, and I resign myself to focusing on the circulation. What else did I have to do in this seemingly endless void?

Focusing on the circulation was both a blessing and a curse, having a task to focus on helped pass the time, the cycle also provided a way for marking time, even if I did not know the duration of each pulse. I fell into a trance-like state, time passing as I drifted through the void, using the struggle to retain my sense of form as a bulwark against the unknown expanse of time, to keep the loneliness and isolation at bay.

While I do not know how long I floated along in the endless expanse of the void, there were some changes. As I circulated, I was able to slowly refine my outer extremities and surface to my form which brought the energy loss to a standstill and, whether through shaping or improved perception my form started to closely resemble one I was more familiar with the bare outline of a human with the energy channels for veins.

I couldn't tell you how long I drifted in this state, in a fugue where I constantly struggled to survive, honing my will to survive and focusing on retaining myself while exposed to the void. Hours? Months? Years? Centuries? After a fathomless period of time later something happened. I heard a voice, so pervasive and imposing that it felt like it could shatter the fragile state of my form with just the force of its passing." Well this is unexpected, where did you come from?"