An Unfulfilled Destiny

"Guard Wilmaer, I'm in need of your assistance tonight. I've already cleared it with Captain Manx, he's reassigned your watch. So there shouldn't be any issues." The young woman said. She was leading her still saddled mount.

The Vice Captain had arraigned for my tent to be near hers but this was the first time we had spoken since that first day on the road. I had interacted with her mount a few times since it was kept near her tent and not with the horses, most likely since I doubted it was one. A few times I caught her watching me from a distance.

"That shouldn't be an issue then. If I'm going to be assisting you, could I ask your name?" I said.

She hesitated for a moment. "You can call me Vesta. And this is Zephyr. " She indicated her mount.

"Well then Vesta, what is it that you need my help with?" I asked.

"We still have about two hours before nightfall. I was hoping to look around the village before then." She said.

We were currently camped on the north side of one of the many abandoned villages on the plains. It was considered bad luck to camp in the villages destroyed years ago, but they tended to be near land suited for large companies to camp on.

"It's been years since it was abandoned. I doubt there's anything of value left." I said.

"You'd be surprised." She said.

We made our way to the Master of Horses, who already had a horse saddled for me. She seemed to have already arranged for our little expedition. It took us less than ten minutes to get back to the village by horseback. Of the nearly 20 buildings most were just the stone foundations covered in vegetation.

A charred black line crossed the village from the north east to the south west. That was where the beast of Dera duen breathed up the village. Nothing grew in that mark. The road that passed through the village was the only break in the line, having been filled in for travelers. Prayer flags of bright colors hung on ropes along the road along the charr. Their caravan's flag being the most recent addition.

In the center of town was a massive tree, half destroyed by Dera duen's breath. The further north I traveled the more of these trees I saw. It was said that these trees scattered through the north were related to the Tree of the True Spirit. They didn't grow in nature and only survived when worshipped. They were supposed to bring peace and prosperity, but that didn't seem to be the case with this one.

Around the base of the tree not in the charr were trinkets, again the most recent left by their caravan. The older guards said it was good luck to leave something and that trees in abandoned villages not near the road had all died. I couldn't completely disregard what they said since even though half of it was charred black and dead, the other half had small hints of green leaves coming in for spring.

Vesta dismounted, gave a quick look around, and pulled a wand out of a storage ring. She cast a spell around herself before stepping into the charr next to the tree. Taking a small vial and silver knife out of her storage ring, she scraped a small portion of charred bark into the vial before returning it into the subspace with her ring.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." I said. While I didn't hold to the spiritual beliefs of the north, I didn't particularly like seeing the spirits disrespected.

"I'm not the first and I won't be the last to take from this tree. The charr left by the beast of Dera duen makes for a good catalyst when creating certain types of motes. Combined with a descendant of the Tree of the True Spirit then it will definitely have a better outcome. I can collect some for you if you'd like." She said.

"Why would you think I'd need any?" I said.

"Just a hunch." Her eyes briefly glanced at her mount. She walked through the charr kicking some rocks before picking up one and placing it in her storage ring.

Motes were used by mages to cast spells. They were the second item that a mage needed to internally create in order to use magic. The first was a mana core. Cores came in five grades; wood, bronze, silver, gold, and celestial. Just like auras, anyone theoretically could create a mana core. The difference was the time and resources that were needed to both create and improve a mana core compared to auras.

Without any outside resources it would take someone years to create a wood quality core. Most didn't consider those with wood cores to be proper mages. Their spells were weak and limited. With a few proper catalysts a bronze core could be created and was the most common starting core. Those who started with silver cores generally had the backing of a wealthy patron, as the catalysts to achieve that were rarer. To start with a gold core you either needed an innate talent for magic or the backing of one of the wealthiest families in the kingdom. No one started with a celestial core and even upgrading to one was the work of a lifetime.

While mana cores supplied the energy for spells, the number and types of motes determined what spells a mage could cast. Motes orbited mana cores within the mage's spirit on the right side of the body opposite the heart. Each mote corresponds to a specific element, the most basic being fire, air, earth, and water. There were more advanced elements such as lightning, shadow, and poison and conceptual motes such as time and thought.

If you wanted to cast a basic firebolt you just needed to empower a fire mote with your mana core and change the aspects of its orbit. Since the mage created their own motes it meant not every mage would have the same elements or number of motes. Some mages focused on a few motes, having a dozen fire motes and a few of the others. This allowed them to cast more powerful and a greater diversity of spells related to that element. Others kept their motes in balance with each other, giving them a greater assortment of spells.

The combination of mana core quality and the number of motes a mage possessed determined their rank as a mage. Anyone with a wood core was referred to as a hedge, the lowest rank. From there it went novice, adept, sorcerer, wizard, sage and archmage. There were also dozens of names for those that specialized in different types of motes.

I have a silver core but with the limited number of motes I have, I'm considered just a step below an adept. Though only the arrogant or foolish thought ranks truly reflected someone's skill and power. The motes I created and the spells I learned were done to assist with my fighting style. This was another thing I wasn't about to let others know about.

"Come on, there should be some other decent finds around here. Even though all of the good stuff would have been scavenged years ago by the dukes and king's people, there should be at least something interesting around here." Vesta said.

After leaving the charr, she moved around the buildings taking different pieces of vegetation and other odds and ends that she found. All the while I kept my eyes out for any monsters that might be hiding in the ruins. The only creatures that we saw were ordinary animals, a fox, some pheasants, and a couple rabbits. Most of the monsters in the plains were corrupted versions of animals caused by the beast of Dera duen passing through. The beast was known as an apocalypse monster, it's mere presence caused mutations into monsters of weaker creatures.

The last thing she did was pull up some water from the well using her wand. As it was getting close to sunset, we started to make our way back. Looking back at the charr I had a thought that I had a few times over the years in relation to any disaster from the years of sorrow. Was I supposed to have prevented this?

I knew it was a silly thought and only held validity if my dreams were actually memories. The masked entity asked if I had slain the beast of Dera duen and then told me I had been stolen from my rightful birth. If I had been born in this world instead of Earth, I would have been an adult during the years of sorrow. Would I have been a hero of legend? Could I have prevented any of the disasters? Was I going to have to prevent equal events in this life?

Of course all that depended on if my dreams were real memories or just the result of a child's overactive imagination. At this moment I didn't know which I wanted to be true.

I don't know what I expect to get out of my interactions with Vesta. But this felt lacking. I didn't sense that she meant any harm to me and the cold suspicion I felt recently either lessened or went away entirely when I was around her. Maybe she just thought of me as an oddity, or saw a kinship in someone also escaping their past in the north.

As I was trying to figure out how to start any sort of conversation, that coldness in my heart that had been absent the moment we left camp returned and my hand instinctively went to my sword. My eyes scanned the tall grass around us as dark shapes leapt out towards us.