Martin stood facing the entrance when the doors opened, battle axe in hand. "Who the fuck is that?" He pointed to Drivastian with the weapon.

"Never let it be said that the Eternal Archive lacks consistency in their leaders. But what a beautiful sect house this is. Not the greatest neighborhood, but for starting from scratch it isn't bad at all!"

Laurel sighed, feeling exactly her age as she answered the question. "This is Drivastian Letheros. Formerly of Decorra, now an off-world cultivator stopping in to visit." She spat the last word, despite her resolution to behave herself.

"Great. We have a list of people that need killing. Where do you want to start?"

Most people would never know what it was to have a best friend that understands them down to their bones. Laurel gave a small thanks that she was not among their number.

"He isn't going to help us. Apparently there are unbreakable rules for visitors."

"That's horseshit."

"Yes."

"Fascinating." Both turned to find Drivastian watching them like animals in a cage.

"What would you say?" Laurel asked him.

A look of genuine surprise crossed his face, then the grandmaster laughed, tossing his head back and echoing throughout the foyer. "You know what? Fair enough. Now how about a tour? Or maybe lunch?"

Not really seeing a reason not to, Laurel set off on their standard tour. As usual, it ended in the library, where Adam was pretending to work at the central desk, like a dragon guarding a hoard. Complete with smoke coming out of his nostrils as he saw them enter with a stranger.

"Who the fuck is that?"

"Now you're playing a prank. You told everyone to say that yes?"

"No, I apparently just have a type when it comes to friends. Wait, you understood that?"

"I picked the language up from the local mana flows. Come now, child."

"So is he another of your old friends, showing up conveniently late?"

"Hey." Martin whined.

"No," Laurel headed off an argument by answering the original question. "He's a visitor from the greater cosmos. Pointedly not willing to help us deal with the Order of Decorra."

"Oh. Fuck you then."

"Honestly." Drivastian's hand drifted against his chest like some wilting ingenue. "As I explained, such actions are monitored and forbidden. I am not unwilling, I am unable."

Drivastian took his time in the archive, more than the rest of the sect. He strolled down shelves, occasionally nodding or exclaiming about some memory tablet or work that he had found. Her estimation of the strange cultivator rose when he kept his hands to himself, and ignored the various locked rooms and closets where the more dangerous material was kept. For some reason he paused the longest in front of a shelf of histories, the same she had studied as a new initiate.

"I was a skeptic, I can admit. But Galana's vision really came true. Most worlds don't have nearly this much preserved, you know. The long march of history is not kind to the record-keepers of the universe."

The genuine praise surprised her. Not a trace of sarcasm tainted the words. "Thank you. It has been a long road."

"And not over," Drivastian said. "I would help if I could, you know."

"I know," Laurel said. It had become clear in the afternoon spent browsing the books that he had an appreciation for his home world. Enough to care when someone violated it.

It was dinnertime by the time they finished, and Esther, never missing the opportunity to feed someone, had set an extra place with the sect officers. Annette was already at the table, of course, and stood at their approach. Martin and Adam followed after Laurel to their usual places.

She offered a cautious nod at the stranger. "Laurel, who is this?"

"Oh so you do have some polite sect members."

"Careful, she's just as dangerous," Laurel said, before turning to Annette. "We've received an offworld visitor. Having ascended millenia ago, he's back for a visit."

"Welcome. I'm glad you showed up here instead of back in the Empire."

"Not so much of a choice, really," Drivastian replied.

That wasn't what Laurel expected to hear. She paused where she was pouring them all a glass of wine and looked to him for more explanation.

"The barriers to entry aren't entirely gone," he explained. "Oh, this is quite good, for mundane grapes. Anyway, I had to slip in carefully, and there were only a few options on where I could show up. Need a Core anchored deeply enough to support the mana flux nearby."

Laurel nodded along, that much she was familiar with. In the rare tale of returning ascended, the Cores always acted as a pathway through the cosmic mana. But the Laskar City Core was at least as advanced as her own.

"The ones over in old Alrasia, something is blocking them." He sniffed. "I won't go where I'm not wanted."

She chose wisdom over valor and didn't comment on that last part. It was a mixed bag. On the one hand, she didn't want the Order getting outside help, they were bad enough on their own. On the other, she wasn't even aware that was something she could be doing. It just exposed another facet of Core cultivation she was ignorant of, another thing where she might be falling behind.

Esther saved her from getting broody by wheeling in a feast for the ages, with the help of the sect members assigned to kitchen duty this week. They had grown to need three tables to fit everyone for meals, and it was simply too much for one woman to handle. Instead of inviting more cooks into her domain, Esther had leveraged sect members and their requisite chore hours to expand what the kitchen put out.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Today, it seemed she was determined to impress their visitor. Roast ducks came first, steaming with the scents of sweet-savory spices baked into a glaze, caramelized on top of crisp skin. Behind that came enough sides to feed the small horde of young people filling the dining hall with conversation and laughter. Salads celebrating the first produce of spring, bowls of rice tossed with dried fruit, potatoes sliced into wafers and baked in cream and butter. On it went. Roasted vegetables, rich sauces to douse it all in. The sect always ate well, but this was food fit for a palace, or one very important guest.

Laurel stood and did her customary thanks for the meal, before encouraging everyone to dig in. Then she sat back down, thankful the sect officers were seated separately, avoiding the free-for-all some of the other sections of the room had become. Teenagers were ravenous beasts on a good day, cultivating teens even more so.

She carved the bird that had been placed in front of her, doling it out while everyone helped themselves to the rest.

Conscious of the many listening ears, Laurel steered the dinner conversation away from anything too confrontational. A tactic their guest was more than willing to join in on. They were regaled with stories, mostly of his own early cultivation journey. Back before most of the sects Laurel grew up hearing about had established themselves as major powers. It was obvious that Adam was itching to record the discussion, but he lasted almost halfway through dinner before pulling out a notebook and using a small technique to transcribe while he ate.

The meal broke up and the sect officers joined the rest in the rotunda, Core pedestal gleaming to the side, while other members worked on projects, gossiped, and just filled the room with the vibrancy of a thriving sect. Might as well remind their visitor why they were doing this at all.

Martin took care of brewing the tea while they continued their small talk. Over the years, Rebecca and Gabrielle had inspired something of a sect tradition, each initiate taking it upon themself to craft a blend of their own creation. They all ended up in the tea service in the rotunda for everyone to try. Some were pleasant enough that they put in specialty orders at their suppliers. Some were…not. As a result Laurel rarely knew what was about to be poured.

It turned out Martin had chosen one of the nice options, so he couldn't be too angry at their guest anymore. Or he was biding his time. Piny undertones from one of the dried herbs mixed with the tea leaves made the cup reminiscent of a hike through freshly fallen snow.

"Your little sect is just full of surprises," Drivastian said.

"We do try."

He closed his eyes for the briefest moment, barely more than a blink, but Laurel had the distinct impression he had just scanned everything and everyone in the sect down to their spirits and bones.

"It's not one of the sects of old. But I suppose it fits, for a world rediscovering magic."

"Thank you," Laurel said. It was her proudest accomplishment. Even if this old monster was going to fuck off and never return, having her hard work, and that of every other member, recognized was something in itself.

The five of them lingered as the younger sect members mostly went off to bed. A few were still working as midnight came and went, sending Adam and Annette to their respective rooms, but Laurel didn't comment. They would learn to pace themselves eventually.

"Now why don't you show me the rest of your adorable little City?" Drivastian said.

Nothing about Verilia was adorable or particularly little. It was also the middle of the night. Laurel shrugged and nodded, eye contact with Martin assuring her he would be staying up this night, and probably every night they were playing host to someone who could level the whole sect without too much effort.

The pair stepped out into the night, still cool this far north, not that either would be bothered by a change in temperature. On a hunch, Laurel didn't bother flying, or any movement technique at all. She just walked.

They stopped at a pub, still open with the last stragglers and tried the local ale. Next up was the Crafting Hall, a Hospital, and the Administration building. She took Drivastian along the wharves of the port, ships bobbling alongside, and up to the public gardens near the University. They walked the length and breadth of the City, observing everything from the magical to the mundane facets of everyday life. Only the fort was spared their presence, mostly because Laurel was worried Mansfeln might injure himself if he came across Drivastian.

The whole time Laurel felt twin dragons of rage and determination building in her chest. She was so, so angry that this man, who could save them all, was not going to do so. Couldn't do so, for fear of some watchers that had never done a thing for the people of Decorra.

Time would temper the rage, she knew. At a push, unfettered interference in weaker worlds like theirs would lead to one angry ascendant taking over and forcing everyone else to obey. Or stripping the world for resources and leaving it bereft. But on this night, she held onto the fire.

She used that flame to fuel her own determination. This City would stand. The Order would fall. Her path to that eventual end was unclear, but that she would make it there was undoubtedly true.

The pair of cultivators watched the sunrise from the roof of the palace in silence. As the peach light woke up the City beneath them, Laurel turned her observations to the man beside her. His expression was something she couldn't fathom, and was fairly certain gaining the ability would come at a steep cost.

Like the longing and contemplation had never been there, a smile bloomed and he turned to meet Laurel's gaze. "I think you should accompany me on my trip."

Laurel's anger ticked up another notch. "I'm afraid I can't go traipsing off on an adventure. The City has already been attacked once when I left."

Drivastian cleared his throat. "I think you should accompany me on my daytrip," he said, emphasizing his words again.

Well she was stubborn, not stupid. "Fine. Let me just –"

Her words cut off as mana enveloped them both. She was trapped in a bubble, cut off from the rest of the world. Or not cut off, but embedded within the mana flows themselves. As she reached that realization, she came to another. They were moving. Fast. Or perhaps they were standing still and everything else was moving.

Before she could attempt to break out, it ended. Her first instinct had been right. They had moved. Far faster than even the best movement technique she had developed, as there were no volcanoes in Merista at all.

They stood on the rim of a massive caldera, kilometers across. A lake had formed in the center, crystalline waters a sapphire blue in the center, fading to a ring of brilliant orange around the edge.

Deep below the surface, Laurel could feel the energy still contained within. Magma with its slow creep of energy, and mana twining through it.

"Where are we?"

"Hmm? Oh, I don't really know what it's called. Far, far southeast of your little City."

"And what are we here for?"

"That's the best part! Come."

It was her turn to be led. Since it would probably take her days to fly home, she figured she might as well see what had precipitated this day and all its weirdness to start with.

They traipsed down into the basin. Reaching the edge of the lake, Drivastian simply walked straight out, striding across the water like it was nothing. Laurel floated behind. It was becoming a point of pride to figure out what his actual cultivation was based on. It wasn't air, she was pretty sure, even though he could fly. Not water either, despite what her eyes were telling her. His domain would be the key, she was certain. A throne room had to be built with something.

The pair reached the center of the lake, and Drivastian slipped beneath the surface. With a sigh, Laurel followed, forcing herself beneath the waves. They sank side by side until they touched down on the surface of the caldera. Her guide was already walking away, the water impeding him no more than air. Laurel followed. Again.

It was a short trip this time, to what she imagined might have been the center of the original volcano. When she caught up, Drivastian was kneeling above a living gemstone. Growing like a bouquet of quartz shards, it gleamed with multi-colored light, each crystalline piece adding to the rainbow. It was one of the most overtly magical things Laurel had seen in a while.

A chisel appeared in Drivastian's hand, coming from the spatial ring that had been thus far unnoticeable. Laurel felt a small surge of pride for her sect. Even amongst the cosmos, their tattoos and the advantages therein were not so easy to reproduce.

The grandmaster examined each spike of crystal, and broke three off neatly. Then he just stood around. Looking at Laurel, then the crystal, then back at Laurel, she swore she could feel the sigh he let out in a large bubble.

Picking up on the hint, Laurel knelt beside the glowing rocks. Her senses could tell each shard was different, but it took long minutes to understand what those shades of meaning were trying to tell her. Then her mind cleared the excess noise and she could hear each mana aspect, clear as a rung bell. There were dozens, and not just of the more common elemental aspects.

Why such a natural treasure existed, and what made it so potent a cosmic cultivator would return just to harvest it, Laurel was unsure. But she wouldn't be letting the opportunity go to waste. Letting her instincts lead her, she found three shards that she needed to keep.

The first was for herself. A storm raged inside the crystal, where the edges were extra sharp, cutting her when she harvested with her own chisel. It wasn't exactly her goal, but it was so close that she couldn't believe it to be a coincidence.

The next two she couldn't really describe. The aspects were like no cultivator she had ever met, but she grabbed them all the same. Both shards of crystal spoke to her soul in a way she could recognize as important, even if she couldn't name. Part of her was tempted to take more, but instinct said that would be a very, very bad idea. This was not a place for greed.

Trekking out of the volcano was a simple reversal of their path inside, and Laurel waited until they were once more looking over the lake from the basin rim to speak.

"What was that?"

"Something very rare, and very precious. On worlds with more advanced Cores, for those that reach beyond a single planet, Shards of Destiny are considered quite invaluable."

"Shards of Destiny? Who came up with that?"

"A question lost to time, I'm afraid. Though the namer has much to answer for."

"How did you know this was here?"

"Mystical cosmic powers," Drivastian answered. "Also, I stumbled upon it when I was too young and too weak to understand."

"And why doesn't every cultivator on the planet come here. I can already tell how useful the shards will be, and I'm not even clear on what they are."

The grandmaster laughed long and loud at that. "Before today, you could have scoured this whole volcano and never seen a thing." His expression turned serious. "I'm pushing the rules with this. Badly. Only the fact that this shard is native is letting you be here at all. Don't waste it."

"You'll be okay?" She kicked herself as the words slipped past her defenses.

"Of course I will," Drivastian said with a smile. "Why do you think I took three."

With that comment and a parting wink, Laurel was once more pulled into the mana currents. But this time she was alone. It spat her out on the roof of the sect house, sunset now dropping below the ocean to the west while her sect busied themselves below.

Martin joined her on the roof a few moments later. "Well?"

"Honestly I'm not sure. He's gone. And I found something that might help. It will have to be enough."

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