Last Lord of the Fey (Progression Fantasy)

B3 - Chapter 38: An ancient mentor


Tristan left Felicity to regale The Matriarch as he descended to the depths of the Queen's Wood, going to the sap pit at the base of the main stalk, and taking a seat on the floor. Calming his breathing with deep breaths, he closed his eyes and envisioned his essence crucible. It looked different than before.

No longer a pale silver, it was instead almost a pure white; crossed only by the various bands of solid colors representing the different Elemental Realm dragons that he had consumed. But, he could also see a shimmering, glinting gold sparkle across the surface, and brief, swirling, purple whirls like smoke eddies vanishing into the night sky. Rejuvenation and Mind? He thought. Elements are like solid strips, but the other spell types are more…esoteric.

He focused on the crucible and within a split-second found himself standing in his inner world. That was…far quicker than before. He looked around and saw naught but the large tree, the edges of the inner world's sphere, and the almost glassy ground of solid ice. No longer the tumbling drifts of snow – it was a flat plane. No wind stirred, no sound could be heard; it was utterly peaceful.

Right. Onto smoothing. Tristan headed over to the wall of the crucible and began smoothing out the small bumps along the sphere. He found a lot of bumps, and spent an unknown time just getting everything smoothed out. Spinning his crucible to shift the top and bottom around, he felt someone tap his shoulder.

In the inner world, not feedback to his body. Glancing sideways, he felt his heart skip a beat as he saw someone standing there. Another person, in his inner world. Holding a massive maul perched on one shoulder – a white branch with a gnarly, black tip that bristled with icicles. She was dressed in a suit of light armor that would allow for dexterous movement.

Tristan had seen himself in a mirror, and this person was his opposite, just gender reversed; minus the slightly raised scales of his dragonslayer bloodline along his crown and doubtless elsewhere. She smirked and let out a barking laugh, "Well well, color me impressed. Divine rarity crucible already?" She set the maul's head on the ground and leaned on the shaft, flashing a toothy smile. Her voice was brutal and sharp, like the sound of ice cracking as it fell from a glacier.

Tristan turned to face her. "Let me guess…Zeltana?"

"In the consciousness," she replied. She looked around the inner world, "I have to say; I'm impressed. Less than a year and you are already at a Divine rarity crucible. Fourth Order spell capability." Her gaze flicked back to him, "That means you no longer use that Mortal Realm naming system of Mage. What is it for this next level of accomplishment?"

"Sorcerer," Tristan replied as he leaned against the wall of his inner world. "How are you here?"

"I gave my life to the Realm," she said with confidence. "I have been in the Queen's Wood ever since. My consciousness, my soul as some call it, still sits within the tree. I first saw you when you took the Trial of the Sap…imagine my surprise as I tried to rifle through your memories, only to find myself stymied by an impassable barrier." She tapped her temple, "You aren't as much of a disappointment as I thought."

Tristan frowned, "Why are you here?"

She lifted the maul and put it on her shoulder, "When you meditate near the pool of sap, with a crucible big enough – Divine and at least Fourth Order capable, in your case – I'm able to slip in."

"You aren't going to try and take over my body or something like that, are you?"

She laughed, and the sound was like two songbirds trilling in harmony. "No! Starsworn, no. Never."

"Starsworn?"

She waved her hand dismissively, "A turn of phrase. Similar to your "gods, no"."

Tristan could tell she was lying but chose not to press given how put-off he already was by her sudden presence. "Then you just chose to visit?"

"I am one with the Realm," she said bluntly as her voice dropped to a slightly serious tone, still with an undercurrent of sincerity. "Every tree, every branch – within a certain distance of the Queen's Wood at least." She pointed at him, "You, last Winterbloom, need some instruction. And I'm here to do that."

Tristan was skeptical and suspected an ulterior motive, but this was a great opportunity to get answers. "First question; did you bring the Plague Realm's destruction upon the Fey Realm?"

Zeltana's face tightened into a grimace of remorse and regret, and she curtly nodded. "I used a staff formed from the Queen's Wood – the same type you have on your person – and breached the barrier." She sighed and rubbed her temples, somehow perching the massive hammer along her shoulder with impeccable balance. "I just…I thought we could handle it. But I was wrong."

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"Well…it must have been horrible," Tristan replied, feeling a pang of sympathy. "Why did you not have your gear with you? Why put it in the Vaults?"

She frowned and pulled her hands back down, letting them dangle at her sides as she looked at the ice and sounded truly defeated. "Before I used the staff, every time I did it, I would store my usual equipment and gear inside the Queen's Wood. The shirt you wear and claimed, the gloves, and more. Plus, leaving the small notes. The reason for that was simple – I didn't want them to get lost in another Realm while I was conquering."

"Conquering for what reason?" Tristan asked.

She gestured to the sphere around them, then frowned. "Right, no trees to gesture to." She shook her head and looked at him, meeting his gaze with those icy blue and golden eyes. "The Realm needed more essence capacity. We had too many of our numbers – Winterbloom in particular." She let out a wry sigh, "You are tackling the whole situation wisely, by the way – setting aside your seed in a prepared vessel. I made a mistake, having too many children who had children and onward. One Winterbloom at a time; that will ensure the Realm never runs out of essence."

"So you had too many kids to sustain the populace."

Zeltana nodded, "And that's why I had to conquer. The staff functions as a realmwalking spell all on its own – the heart of a Realm, reaching out to another. But the Realm it opens to is always unknown – you cannot predict where you will end up. Lost Realms are the most common, and so Delves would be formed at the edge of the Realm." She sounded sad as she continued, "It was…piss-poor luck that we got the Plague Realm. I had to sacrifice my life to prevent all of the Realm from succumbing to the sicknesses and diseases. Then, The Matriarch finished the war."

"An entire Realm-"

"Killed," Zeltana confirmed. "Elves in my era were conquerors. After my sacrifice, I watched as my children bickered about leaders, what to do next, if they should continue the cycle of expansion and Grafting other Realms."

"How did the different parts of the Realm get sealed?" Tristan asked.

"Ah," she scratched her chin, "I did that as part of my sacrifice. It was one of the precipitating reasons why the Great Exodus happened. No more servant class to serve the various Elf bloodlines."

That seems cruel, Tristan thought. Just completely locking away species of the Fey Realm because she… "Why did you do that?"

"Simple. They were lazy." Her tone became aggressive, "If they weren't such pampered little shits – granted, I enabled it by making the other species – but if they weren't like that, maybe they would have had the balls to keep conquering. So, I gave them a hard nudge."

"You kicked the kids out," Tristan said bluntly. "Forcing them to grow up and be responsible by kicking them out to the Mortal Realm."

She cracked a smile, "Sharp one. Yes, I did. Birds need to be pushed out of the nest to take flight if they will not jump themselves." She frowned, "I am saddened that my bloodline has died out save for you. But…well, you still live, and I've said my piece about the positives of there only being one of our prominence."

Tristan walked toward the tree, followed by her close behind – her footsteps not making a single sound on the ice despite his boots clacking against it. "Did you have a tree like mine?"

"Not with the colorful leaves, or as many spell types – but yes." She sounded trite and slightly upset. "I can't believe a mongrel bloodline Winterbloom might turn out stronger than me at my peak."

Tristan turned to face her under the leaves, "Really? Still with the whole mongrel thing?"

She shrugged, "I'm blunt and crass – where do you think the fairy dragons got that aspect of their personality from?" She sighed and walked up to the tree, placing her hand on it. "Dragonslayer…from your grandfather eating an Arch Dragon's heart. I'll admit, that is a truly amazing origin for a bloodline." Her eyes shifted to him and her expression softened, "I may be dead, but I intend to train you, child of my dynasty. You have such potential with this unique blending of bloodlines."

Tristan felt a sense of warmth spread through him at someone praising him and hyping him up for the heights of his possible growth. But, he still remained skeptical. "I want you to guarantee to me that you are not doing this in an attempt to take my body or anything like that."

Zeltana stood up straight, raising her hand as she set the maul on the icy ground. "I, Zeltana Winterbloom, first of our bloodline, promise you, Tristan Winterbloom, that I do not seek control over you." She nodded resolutely, "I like being part of the Realm itself. It is soothing, relaxing, and feels fantastic." She lowered her hand and frowned, "And no offense, but I would not look forward to being a man. Even though you do look like me…mostly."

Tristan nodded, "Well…I suppose that's good enough." He spun his crucible both directions, connecting to the Realm's essence, and he could see a small strand of the energy connecting him to Zeltana.

"The fuck are you doing?" she asked as she glanced down.

"Imposing my will on the Realm," Tristan stated. "You are part of the Realm, and I rule it. Minä, Tristan Winterbloom, käsken sinua, Zeltana Winterbloom, pitämään aina etuni mielessä ja kaikessa, mitä teet, pyrkimään pitämään minut turvassa, turvassa ja suojattuna. Lisäksi teet kaikkesi auttaaksesi minua hallitsemaan valtakuntaa hyväntahtoisesti." (I, Tristan Winterbloom, order you, Zeltana Winterbloom, to always keep my best interests in mind, and in all you do strive to keep me safe, secure, and protected. Additionally, you will do everything in your power to help me rule the Realm in a benevolent manner).

The essence strung between the two solidified for a brief moment before a wave traveled from his chest to hers, and she went slack for a split-second before straightening. "Well…alright then. Looks like I'm bound to your will." She grumbled a bit, crossing her arms.

"Can you blame me?" Tristan asked. "I plan on running things differently from how you did, and you yourself said that the fairy dragons got their crassness from you – they probably got their proclivity for trickery and pranks as well. I'm not risking my life."

At that, Zeltana let out a barking laugh. "Pragmatic. Good. That'll serve you well. Now, Lord Tristan…let's get started." She hefted the maul, "Come on, pull out that sword and let's see what you can really do!"

Tristan drew his sword and stopped both-direction spinning his crucible, only spinning it in the "out" direction to fill his body with the vital power and replicating an actual combat environment where he could not pull on a whole Realm's worth of power. "Try to keep up."

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