Vol.6 Ch.146- The Shadows Of The Past Have Arrived.

"So you had Bowen make all of this just by explaining to him? I'm impressed," I said nonchalantly as Dad kept brushing my hair.

Dad chuckled softly. "Are you cutting that man short? Well, I take that back since you must not know how amazing he is. Earth magic is his second-best magic, after all, so doing something like this should be nothing for him."

"Is that so? I heard he could use all four elemental schools, but I didn't expect earth to be his best. Is he really a Grandmaster mage in all four schools?"

Dad stopped abruptly, and I looked over my shoulder just enough to see his confused face. "Do you…really not know? Has he not told you?"

"Told me what?" I asked, confused.

Dad shook his head and started brushing my hair again. "I can't tell if he is being modest or careful…." Dad muttered. "Well, yes, he is a Grandmaster, to say the least. But, in all my life, I've never met a mage as creative as Bowen."

Dad cleared his throat. "Ah, besides you, that is…" he said meekly.

I just laughed. "Is Bowen the strongest mage you've ever met?"

Dad let out a deep sigh of contemplation. "No, he isn't the strongest mage I've ever met. But he's up there for sure."

Interesting…so Bowen isn't the strongest mage my father knows but the most creative? I wonder what his fifth school of magic is and why he is hiding it.

Dad stopped brushing and clapped his hands. "Alright, we are moving along!" he said excitedly.

I looked at the still bucket of water in front of me and examined myself. Dad had braided my hair rather tightly into two thick ropes that hung from the side of my head. My hair was long enough that it nearly touched my shoulder. Sadly it was supposed to be longer.

I should have grown my hair without cutting it off for fifteen years, but I had no choice due to my life circumstances. If I were to guess, my hair was probably too short for this ceremony, and I could tell Dad was a bit flustered and even a little dejected by it.

I know that he's not blaming me or anything like that, but he is probably beating himself up over his perceived failure. I would like to say something to him, but we've already had this conversation. Empty words would only prolong his negative feelings.

Besides…Dad is quick to bounce back.

"So what's next? Just how many steps are there to this ceremony?" I asked.

Dad chuckled and put a warm hand on my back. "We are just getting started, my son."

I heard the clang of metal on metal and looked over my shoulder to see Dad with a somewhat big sack resting in his lap. He peered into the bag and rummaged around it until he pulled out a silver and gold rectangle. I could tell the craftsmanship on the pieces of metal was rather basic as they had no distinct features of engravings, so I was curious as to what these were for.

"Face forward. I'll start attaching the Proofs now," Dad said softly.

I turned back around and stared into the brown stone wall. "Proofs? Proof of what?"

"Proof of what you have done thus far in your life. It's customary to acknowledge and reward a boy's accomplishments before becoming a man. It's also meant to measure one's potential."

"I see…"

"However, there are quite a few people in the clan who want to do away with this custom," Dad added.

"Oh? Why's that?" I asked curiously as I felt Dad clip the first Proof to my braid.

"Some say that it causes extreme vanity and self-complacency," he explained.

"Mmm…I can see that. It wouldn't surprise me if some people's heads got too enlarged over their Proofs. Is that why Parhen is the way he is?" I mused out loud.

I felt Dad stop, and I turned my head slightly. His eyes were wide, and a full smile bloomed on his face as he rolled back with a booming laugh. The sack of Proofs jingled around with laughter.

I just watched in amazement. I don't think I've ever seen my father laugh so hard in my life. Tears were rolling down his face, and he was getting his black shirt and pants dirty.

Dad finally calmed down a little as he grunted and rolled back to his knees while letting out the occasional suppressed laugh. "Oh my…I haven't laughed this hard in ages…ah, my stomach hurts; I think I'm gonna strain a muscle."

Dad wiped his tears with his shirt sleeve and looked at me, only to laugh again. "I swear you are the funniest person I know, Kaladin. You've changed so much…"

Well, I didn't mean it as a joke, but I guess it could be funny. Besides, seeing Dad laugh like this…was a great birthday gift.

Dad cleared his throat and sat a little straighter. "To answer your question, yes. Probably…most likely…no, definitely. Parhen is a year older than me, and he wasn't always a punk, but I swear when he went through his ceremony, he changed for the worse."

Dad sighed and looked into my eyes. "It's expected that the person would change during the coming-of-age ceremony, but to that extent…it's pretty rare. Of course, I'm not worried about you. If a bunch of Proofs was enough to make you complacent, you wouldn't have achieved half the things in your life."

"Thanks, Dad," I said honestly.

I grabbed my braid and examined the gold and silver Proofs. The braid for the ceremony was surprisingly simple. The other braids Dad showed me when I was young were far more complicated and had very deep meanings. Perhaps the simplicity of the braid was just to make attaching Proofs easier.

"So what meaning do these have, and just how many do you have in that bag?"

Dad grinned. "A lot more where that came from. And these Proofs are actually the oldest Proofs the clan has documented, and they are also the simplest, although they are a bit outdated as of the last three hundred years or so."

Dad reached across and grabbed the gold Proof. "All these Proofs mean that you have accumulated at least a gold coin in your life through honest work. The silver means you have earned at least eight large silver."

Eight hundred silver is a lot in a few years for an adventurer. Especially if living and maintenance costs are taken into account

"These were more important when the clan were mercenaries and wanderers. It was common for young boys to start taking quests at the Adventurers Guild or doing odd mercenary work to prove their worth and develop important skills. But since we've been employed for the last three hundred years and seemed to have settled down, this might be a dying Proof,' Dad explained.

"Oh? So shouldn't I be getting a Mythril Proof or something?" I teased.

Dad chuckled and shook his head. "Sadly, those don't exist. It was unthinkable for a Dark Elf who hadn't even turned fifteen to make a large gold coin let alone a Mythril coin. I barely got a gold Proof, and I had fought in a lot of battles and won many awards for Brax. But maybe…if things didn't turn out this way…you would have been the first."

Dad closed his eyes slightly and just gave him a pat on the chest before turning around. "Don't worry about it. I wouldn't want to spend this important moment with those stuck-up bastards anyways," I told him.

He didn't say anything or even sigh at that. He rummaged around in his sack again, and my vision was filled with a silver Proof. But this one had a bit more going for it. A single spear was etched into the flat part.

"This is a spear Proof. It represents one's skill with the spear. I think you know why you are only getting a silver, Kal."

I chuckled. "I know. I have a long way to go before I can consider myself worthy of a gold Proof for the spear."

"Good, I'm glad you understand. Now then…you are naturally getting a gold Proof for magic as well as many other proofs for the various things you've accomplished. You might be the most decorated Dark Elf of all time, Kal. You are going to crush my record into dust."

"Jealous?" I teased.

I felt Dad's warm hand on my shoulder. "No, I feel proud. It's every father's dream for their son to surpass them. Although you still have a long way to go in some spaces so don't get too excited."

"Thanks, Dad…"

With my heart lightening and my happiness overflowing, Dad started awarding me with various Proofs. Some were for rather mundane things like hunting different monsters based on their level, and even one made of wood for becoming a novice archer. There were even a few not dedicated to combat or hunting like a Proof for making diplomatic accomplishments with an outside faction.

It turned out that Dad had gotten these Proofs from the shamans when he went to visit them in the Dark Elves' encampment. By the end of it, both braids were nearly covered by the metallic Proofs.

And my neck was starting to hurt…who would have thought having all these chunks of metal attached to you would be cumbersome.

Dad smiled fondly as he examined his handiwork. "Looking good, Son."

"Thanks, Dad."

I moved my head even slightly, and the Proofs clacked against each other. "Just know that this is pretty amazing. Most Dark Elves don't get even close to this many. You've accomplished some amazing feats, Son. But it's on to the next stage."

"Just how many stages are there?" I asked.

Dad started counting on his fingers. "Mmm…let's see… including this one…five more stages? Maybe four depending on what you count as a stage or not," he said with a shrug. "Now then, sit down on your knees and face me."

I did as I was told, and suddenly, a clay pot appeared from thin air. Dad reached into the pot and swirled his hand like he was trying to scoop something out. But when he took his hand out, it was covered in a bright silver goopy paste that dripped from in-between his fingers.

"Sorry," Dad said quickly.

"Sor-? Oo—oo—oOo," I moaned.

Dad's palm was freezing cold as he placed it on my warm solar plexus and pushed. It sent chills down my spine yet it had a weird buzzing sensation to it. Despite it being winter, this stone hut was steaming hot due to all the fires. The fact that it was made out of stone also probably meant that the heat stayed trapped there.

Dad nodded in satisfaction, and I looked down to see his palm printed onto my chest. I realized that the paste looked a lot like the same paste Sededa and Zydrae had on their arms and faces.

Dad dipped his fingers back into the pot and swirled it around once more. Then, he started tracing away from the palm imprint with his fingers. After a few strokes and a few more spine-chilling sensations, it looked like silver river beds breaking off from a giant palm-sized lake.

Dad maneuvered around to my back and counted and applied the silver goop there. "This paste is made out of the ash from the trees in The Barrens mixed with a few other substances. Usually, it wouldn't be difficult to get the ash, but this mixture is a closely guarded secret of the Silvershadow family, amongst a few other things you will see tonight."

"A priestess or shaman would commonly have explained this to you beforehand, but I took it upon myself to do the explaining. This palm print from the father symbolizes the connection to the son's soul as he becomes a man—a way to guide him through the shadows to become the perfect version of himself. The paths leading away from the soul will…well, you'll see in a moment," Dad explained.

I heard Dad stand up and the curtains separating the rooms in the tent shift. There were some mutters and shuffling, and I heard multiple sets of footsteps walking toward me. I looked back over my shoulder, and the first person through the partition was Dad, followed by an adorable little girl.

She was being bathed in the fire's light, and wore a simple black top that left her little belly exposed and a black skirt. Unfortunately, both articles of clothing were too big for her and were being held together by a pin. The all-black outfit really made her orange hair and bright blue eyes pop. I raised an eyebrow at her, and Mila smiled and waved at me slightly.

I could tell she was trying to be serious right now, and she must have been holding back a great deal because I hadn't heard them all that much. I mean, I knew they were in the next room over, but that was all. They hadn't even started a conversation, as far as I could tell.

Next through was Mom, and like Mila, she was wearing a similar black outfit, although more fitted to her. Her golden hair swayed side to side, and she smiled at me with kind eyes. And following behind her were Sylvia and Cerila.

Both of them wore the exact same outfit. Sylvia's purple and black hair meshed perfectly with the outfit, almost as if it was meant to be. Likewise, her pale skin contrasted the outfit. I could even see the fruits of her hard work these last few months as muscle was visible on her abdominals and exposed slender arms and legs.

Cerila was much the same, with her long white hair going past her shoulders and her flushed white skin. But unlike Sylvia, Cerila couldn't really be described as slender. Even with one eye looking over my shoulder and the light of the fire at her back, I could count the individual striations on her rock-hard abs. Her muscles on her arms, legs, and shoulders went far beyond toned and far more sculpted than even most men.

I hadn't seen Cerila's body like this in years. I mean, it was winter, and she always wore clothes that covered most of her body. Even that one night when we were first reunited, I hadn't noticed all of this. To be fair, I was distracted at the time.

No, maybe I'm wrong. Perhaps she was just pushing herself even harder these last few months, and this was the result of her hard work.

Both of them quickly averted their eyes meekly. Perhaps I had been staring at them too intently as their faces flushed slightly. I imagined they were embarrassed by the outfits. They were relatively simple and tribalistic in their function and form, but they undoubtedly exposed quite a lot of skin. Even I had to avert my eyes and stare into the stone wall.

Now is…not the time, Kaladin…

"From here, the family of the boy will provide Proofs of their own. This event isn't just for the father alone, after all. They all represent family and an unbreakable bond that is shared. This is also where the Chief of the clan would bless you and strengthen your heart for the journey, but we are going to modify that part a bit," Dad said fondly.

"Dear, would you like to go first?" Dad asked.

"Yes," Mom answered back softly.

The sound of metal clanking against each other in the bag had decreased a lot now, but there were still a few Proofs in the bag. I listened to Mom's quiet steps on the dirt floors as she knelt down behind me.

She extended a painted purple metal Proof and showed it to me before clamping it to my braid. There was the swirling sound of paste being moved in the jar once more, and I felt the cold spread out from the hand that was pressed on the left side of my back.

"For family, one big happy family," she whispered as I felt her cold finger drag across my back, most likely connecting the various paths Dad had made.

I got the feeling I shouldn't be speaking for some reason, so I just smiled despite her not being able to see my face. I nodded my head once I felt that she was finished, and she stood up quietly, and the next person sat down.

Another purple Proof was shown to me, and judging by the hand; it must have been Cerila. She clipped it to my braids, and this time, I was a bit more prepared for the cold sensation despite not knowing where it would be placed. Cerila placed her hand on the base of my spine and began connecting the paths with her fingers.

Instead of saying anything to me, she just rubbed my back and the back of my neck gently for a few seconds before standing up quietly. I let out a deep breath and tried to reign in my feelings a bit more. I could tell Cerila wanted to say more or do something else, but she must have opted not to. Her scent, although weak and probably not done on purpose, made my head a bit fuzzy, along with her gentle yet rough hands.

Hands that once saved me and then got stronger to try and save me…what do I even do…

Sylvia was next and, just like others, showed me her Proof before clipping it to my hair. Sylvia placed her hand on the opposite side of my mom's and pressed firmly. She started connecting the paths, but she had to reach a bit further to get to my side. I felt her breath on my shoulder, only for her to rest her head on it.

"For my love," she whispered gently in my ear.

I was already somewhat embarrassed about being rubbed down and painted on by everyone but had done my absolute best not to show any embarrassment. But those words were enough, and I could feel my ears and face burning as my heart raced. Sylvia giggled quietly to herself as she stood up, and I could feel the smirks from my parents behind me.

"Now then, Mila, it's your turn," Dad said with a chuckle.

Unlike all the others, Mila didn't bother being quiet and subtle. Instead, her feet pitter-pattered against the floor, and she stood before me. She waved the black Proof around and frowned only to look past me.

"What was I supposed to say again?" she asked, barely reigning in her excitement.

Everyone started laughing, and I even heard Cerila chuckle to herself. Mila's face turned bright red, and her little tail stopped wagging back and forth.

"Don't worry about it, Mila. Say whatever you want on the next part," Dad told her.

Mila's smile returned as she waddled closer to me and fastened the Proof to the top of my hair. Her little fingers struggled for a bit, so she let out a few adorable grunts before taking a step back with a self-satisfied nod.

Dad walked over and offered her the pot, but he had to set it down so she could reach into it. She let out a small shout. "So cold!" she whined.

I chuckled, and Mila immediately strolled over to me and slapped her little wet palm against my chest. It even made a cute sound. She bent at the waist and started connecting the paths with a determined look. She even stuck her tongue out slightly, and her cheetah print ears were wiggling on her head.

"For Daddy's protection! And….uh…love!" she shouted triumphantly in nearly perfect Human.

Protection? Protection from what? And her Human is coming along nicely. In a few more months with Grandpa, she will probably be completely fluent in the Human language.

"That job was typically for the Chief to do, but since a young man has never had a child before the coming-of-age ceremony, we had to figure out what to do with Mila. We figured we would give her this important honor," Dad said with a warm smile.

That makes sense. If it takes Dark Elves an average of four decades to produce offspring, then it would be impossible for a fifteen-year-old Dark Elf to have a child.

"I see…what about Dallin? Why isn't he here?" I questioned.

"It's forbidden for a young man to sit in on a coming-of-age ceremony, so Grandpa Jacobs is watching him. This day should be a special day for you and him, so having him experience it through you might ruin the atmosphere, don't you agree?" Dad said.

This does feel important for some reason. However, I could see how watching this might lessen the impact in the future.

"I understand. Is that all for the Proofs and paint?" I wondered aloud as I watched Mom whisper something in Mila's ears.

"Yes, we are done with the Proofs, but there is one more person that needs to see you. This is also where we part for the time being. I had expected to do this part myself when it was just us in Owlkirk, but somebody volunteered to help you. I think you will be pleasantly surprised," Dad explained as he helped me to my feet.

Mila waved goodbye to me and left the tent so I said my goodbyes and started moving. With every step I took, the Proofs on my hair clacked loudly. And honestly, the weight was really starting to give me a crick in my neck. But Dad held my arm in his and guided me through to the next room. Mom, Cerila, and Sylvia sat on small cushions on the ground, but I didn't stop in that room.

The next partition wasn't held together by cloth like the others but by a massive stone door. Dad let my arm go and pushed open the door, and gestured for me to into the room.

"I'll see you soon. Stay safe in your travels, and always remember that we are here for you. Okay?" Dad said.

"My travels? What—"

"Just promise me that you understand that we are here and aren't going anywhere. And that you can ask us for anything," Dad reaffirmed, his gaze dead serious.

"Okay, I understand," I said reluctantly.

"Good, now walk inside. They are waiting for you," Dad said as he began to close the stone door behind me.

Journey? What is going on?

I walked into the dark space and felt the chills roll over me. It was much colder in this area as the stone structure had an opening at the top. A fire was blazing at the center of the room. A giant pot was sizzling and popping and it smelt like burnt dirt and leaves.

Sitting on their knees behind the fire was a young girl with bright silver hair and smokey gray eyes. Her face was painted just like the last time I saw her, but the outfit was entirely different. Instead of the more simple attire she wore, this time, she was decked out in a fancy silver and black dress that spilled out onto the ground.

She wore a black feathered headpiece with purple gems and metallic silver trims that shined in the fire's light. Purple and black gems adorned the chest, and I chuckled by accident as it clearly didn't fit her at all. She must have been borrowing it.

"It's rude to laugh at a priestess, Kaladin," Sededa said with a soft smile.

"Perhaps the priestess should wear clothes that fit her," I added.

Sededa looked down at herself and frowned. "I'm just borrowing these…I'm not a fully recognized priestess yet."

Sededa motioned for me to sit down across from her, so I obliged. "So I'm getting the trainee?" I teased.

Sededa blushed and shot me a sour glare. "That's right, you are. And you better be happy about it. A trainee priestess is better than no priestess."

I laughed and nodded my head at her words. I was finished teasing her, but I couldn't help but remark on how different Sededa felt. I remember thinking she was a meek girl who hid in her cousin's shadow, but when she wasn't around that bastard Terstus, she felt like a completely different person. Maybe not being forced around by that jerk and being able to appear as she naturally was, lets her be more comfortable.

It felt like this was the real her. She looked happier. Well, she looked happier when I wasn't teasing her.

"So, Trainee Priestess Sededa, what's next?" I asked.

Sededa snorted and shook her head. "You must be in a really good mood today. I don't think I've ever seen you smile and make so many jokes before."

Is that so? I am happy right now, that's for sure. Maybe happier than I've been in a long time. This was an event I'd agonized over for years. I'm also a bit worried about this 'journey,' but that's all.

Sededa sat a little straighter and cleared her throat. "Also, Priestess will do for today, young man."

"Understood, Priestess. What will you have me do?" I asked back, a bit more seriously.

Sededa raised a silver eyebrow at me. "Never thought I heard you take an order," she muttered. "Anyway, I—actually…can you come to sit in front of me? This dress is hard to move in, and I don't want to get up until I have to…" she said nervously.

I suppressed my chuckle and stood up for her. Before I even sat down, Sededa was already placing her hand in a much smaller clay pot. Just like the others, her entire hand was covered in silver goop, and she scooted closer to me and placed her palm on my lower stomach as low as she could go.

It was a bit uncomfortable having her place her hand so far down my stomach, but I didn't voice any complaints. Sededa's slim finger expertly traced paths to the palm print on my solar plexus. When she got to Mila's tiny print, she smiled faintly and connected it to the rest.

She ordered me to turn around, checked over my back, and then told me to sit back down on the opposite side of her. "So, can I ask questions?"

"You may ask some questions, yes. I'll do my best to answer them if I'm allowed. But I must warn you, if you ask any questions about specific methods, I'll have to decline," Sededa said resolutely.

"Okay then…why is my family sitting outside? Shouldn't they come in here with me?" I asked.

Sededa got up on her knees and opened the lid to the pot a bit, and peered into it. The pungent smell of dirt and plants wafted out on the smoke, and Sededa eyed me. "That's because this is important, and the art of this ceremony is kept secret even from the Shadow Clan Chief. Unnecessary eyes and voices are not needed here and it's also for their protection. Don't worry. They will have a purpose soon as they need to take care—well, explaining that much might needlessly worry and embarrass you. So I won't elaborate further."

"What would be embarrassing about any of this?" I questioned.

Sededa frowned only to give me a wry smile. "Let's just say it's a task only a mother could do. I respect Sylvia's and Cerila's resolve, and I wish them the best of luck. If they manage to last, they must truly love you."

That…didn't answer my question and is only making me more concerned.

"So…this journey I'm about to go on. Does it have to do with what's in this pot?" I asked.

"Yes, it does."

"Can you tell me what's in it?"

"No, I can't."

"Can you tell me what's going to happen?"

"You are going to go on a journey."

I sighed and shook my head. "Just a little more context would help, Priestess."

Sededa let out a sigh of her own and started mixing the contents of the pot. "Giving you a definitive answer is impossible. A person's journey can take on various different forms, everything from living a separate life to seeing the future or the past. A select few have said they can even commune with a god of some type. Some people don't even have a journey, or at least they don't remember having one. So telling you what to expect may only bring disappointment or unneeded concerns, but since you asked I told you. Your journey will be unique to you and you alone."

Journey…living a different life…seeing the past or future, and communing with a god. And it's brought on by this plant matter being boiled in a pot.

Ah, crap. It's drugs. Probably some type of psychedelic compound.

Should I…no…I mean, if this is part of the experience, I should go through with it. There are no concerns for my health as I have Sylvia nearby, and I'm confident I won't succumb to any drugs. Dark Elves are resistant to these types of things, so I should be okay…even if it's only half a resistance.

"See, it made you nervous for no reason. I can assure you that all of the times I've sat in on this ceremony or even when I went through it myself, nobody was ever hurt. Sometimes asking questions hinders you instead of helps you," Sededa said defensively.

"No, it's okay. I wasn't expecting this, but it's nothing I can't handle," I told her.

Sededa gave me a wry smile. "Sure thing, Kaladin. Sure thing."

I raised a questioning eyebrow at Sededa, but she just giggled. I felt a spell core suddenly form, and a tendril made of inky black shadows brought a clay jar toward her from the darkness. Sededa popped the top with the help of the shadow tendril and made a hilarious face. Her lips puckered, and her face contorted in disgust as an overwhelming smell wafted from the jar.

It almost smelt like pure alcohol, but it had a more chemical smell to it than anything. It was enough that even across the fire, it felt like it was burning my nose hairs. Sededa coughed a few times and shook her head clear.

"I've never smelt it freshly opened before. It's worse than I imagined," she said bitterly.

"What is that stuff?" I asked.

"Family secret," she said before sending her shadow tendril off toward the door. "Typically, tradition calls for burying the pot for weeks underground in order to cool and freeze the contents within, but since we lack time, we are going to have to do it this way."

Sededa grabbed another pot that was much smaller than the original with her shadow magic and placed a wooden bowl with tiny holes. With the help of her magic, she supported the pot and slowly and carefully poured the liquid into the small pot.

The liquid was crystal clear, but occasionally a chunk of a dark-looking fibrous material would plop out and be caught by the strainer. Sededa pursed her silver-painted lips in concentration and then stopped abruptly, setting the first pot down with a slosh.

"Is there leftover liquid in that pot?" I asked curiously.

Sededa got somewhat excited as a smile bloomed on her face."Yeah, but it's all crud and useless now! The magic is… in—I shouldn't be telling you any of this…" she muttered, embarrassed.

The door to the chamber was pushed open, and a familiar face walked in as her white bushy tail swayed from side to side. <What's going on?> I signed quickly.

Cerila just kept walking, and I saw her amber fox eyes wink at me in the darkness. Sededa smiled awkwardly and extended the new pot toward her, which Cerila took. I didn't even feel Cerila's spell core form, but the pot suddenly frosted over.

Sededa bowed slightly, and Cerila handed the pot back before walking out of the room and closing the door behind her. Sededa let out a gasp of surprise and quickly placed the new jar over the fire.

"Having an ice mage would save so much time, but…am I seeing things?" she mused to herself.

She seemed almost excited as she stared at the pot with wide eyes. It was like she wished the contents heated up faster with her gaze alone. I thought I even saw flames in her eyes.

After a few minutes, Sededa suddenly snatched the pot and quickly siphoned the liquid out of it into the old vessel. She stuck her face into the lid, and she gasped as her eye went even wider.

"Im—impossible! This—this is!" she stuttered.

Sededa's hand was covered in an inky black shadow, and she sliced the container like she was using a sword. She split it just above the halfway point and scooped her hand into the bottom. The pungent smell of chemicals wafted out, but Sededa didn't even flinch.

Sededa brought her hand up into the light, and I could see tiny pure white crystals sparkling in her hand. "This is amazing…I've never seen such purity before. It's unheard of even in all the tales…" she muttered in disbelief as she stared at the crystals with reverence.

"Is this…good or bad?" I ask cautiously.

Sededa didn't even look my way. The crystals completely entranced her. "I can't be certain…never have the crystals been so clear before, let alone has a single batch yielded so much. It's common for them to have a yellow tinge to them, but this…this is far beyond anyone's expectations. This may be the first time in history."

"So…should we seek help? And how many times have you done this?" I asked.

Sededa shook her head. "There's no need. If anything, the purity will probably make them safer. And it's my first time."

First time and it will be stronger…

"Okay, Kaladin. All the preparation has been met for you. Are you ready?" she asked.

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I am, Priestess."

"Good. Just know that I will be present and your family is here as well. Have you been drinking water recently?" she asked, seemingly a bit worried.

"Yes, I have. Lots, in fact," I told her.

Her worry vanished, and she smiled. "Good, good. At least your father told you that much. Okay, let me get ready. It will only take but a moment."

Sededa's carefully dumped the crystals back into the pot, and from there, her hands moved quickly like she had drilled those steps into her soul. First, she plugged her nose with what looked like plants and then placed a large piece of bark into her mouth, almost like a mouthguard of sorts. She then covered her entire face in a silver wrap leaving only her eyes and ears exposed.

Sededa's shadow slightly tilted the large pot in the middle, so a liquid poured out and into a wooden cup. I couldn't help but feel slightly disgusted at the sight. It looked like a muddy slop, and the smell was the same as the earth and maybe with a hint of beer. It wasn't pleasant in the slightest.

"I must warn you. This will be a rather quick process. I also apologize for the taste…there is nothing that can be done, and if it's any consolation, even after thousands of years, we haven't been able to make this taste any better. And everyone else has tasted this once. Even your father has tasted it twice," Sededa explained as her shadow floated toward me with the cup. The mouthguard slightly muffled her voice.

"I'm not sure if that is making me feel better or not," I said with a shrug. "So…do I just…drink it?"

"Yes, you won't feel anything right away, which is fine, so feel free to drink it when you are ready. You don't have to force it down, but…I'd recommend doing it all in one go…spreading out the taste will only make you suffer," Sededa warned.

"Noted…" I mumbled.

I decided to wait a bit for the liquid to cool down, so I didn't burn myself, so I watched Sededa move about quickly. She had a large flat strip of tanned leather and was placing it over the pot with the crystals. She fastened the leather down with ease and used her shadow tendrils to swap the pots over the fire. But this time, it was held much higher over the fire.

Huh…she isn't burning or cooking crystals…or at least not directly exposing them to the flames…what's the reason for that, I wonder?

Sededa let out a satisfied sigh and watched me carefully. I decided the liquid had cooled down and heeded her warning. I chugged the contents down as fast as possible, and it was somehow not the worst thing I had tasted in my life. I mean, it was absolutely revolting and felt like it was barely fit for consumption by a living being. It tasted like dirt and water straight from the ground that an army marched through.

"Can't I have something to drink with this?" I asked, wiping my tongue off.

"Any unnecessary consumption at this point will only haunt you and your loved ones, trust me," Sededa said bitterly.

"Okay…well, is this it? What about those crystals?" I asked, rubbing my stomach.

Man, it feels really warm…kinda like a hot soup going down. A hot soup of mud, that is.

"In just a moment, I will expose you to the crystal's fumes. From there, it will be almost instant," Sededa explained. "Kaladin, be safe and stay strong, okay? I promise you no harm will be done to you, and when you wake up, all will be well, and your family will be waiting for you."

"Thanks, Sededa," I said honestly.

Sededa's lips moved under her mask into a smile. "Good luck, Dragon Slayer."

The shadow holding the pot above the fire moved it closer to me and ripped the leather off. An acrid-smelling white smoke blasted me in the face and with a single inhale, I felt my lungs burn. The coughing started immediately, and I waved the smoke out of my face, my Proofs jingling with each swing of my arm.

The smoke cleared, and I didn't feel all that different, but I was still coughing. I looked at Sededa, but she just nodded her head. "Goodbye, Kaladin. Travel safe."

Goodbye?

---

From there, my head and vision swam. It felt like somebody was crushing my head inwards, and my vision, along with my very being, went with it. It was like I was being forced into a long black tunnel.

I wasn't sure how long I was in that tunnel. Days, weeks, months, it felt like years had gone by in a blink of an eye. But there..at the end of the tunnel…I saw it…

The light.

I burst out of the tunnel and looked around. No, looking wasn't the right word. I was just existing outside the tunnel now. My entire world had morphed and changed, and it felt like I was swimming underwater, and that time had slowed down to a crawl.

The place around me was bright and colorful, like a kaleidoscope world. Geometric shapes spun, grew, shrunk, and moved like living organisms breathing. I tried to focus on a specific spot, but whenever I did, the shapes just changed and expanded, only to disappear and reform in another ever-changing pattern.

It was an entirely new world—a world I had never seen or experienced before. Even death couldn't compare to something like this. It felt like I was melting into the shapes and that the patterns were breathing along with me. I wasn't even sure if I was breathing or if I was even me and not the figures.

The geometric shapes suddenly expanded like a corridor and moved to the side in all four directions. Then, from the center, what looked like a golden and white hand reached out to me, and I felt inclined to return to it. But right before It got to me, my world changed once more.

What the…

I felt more..aware of myself now. I looked down, and I could see my hands and legs. I moved my hands, but there were afterimages of them that I could clearly see. It was like a reel of tape being played before my very eyes.

I looked around to find myself sitting on a bed. The afterimages were intense but not uncomfortable. I actually didn't feel anything when I was here. But as soon as I thought that, a vague sense of familiarity tickled my sense.

"This room…it's…my room…from Owlkirk," I said out loud, my voice echoing in my own ears.

"That's right, it is," a cold voice called out.

My head snapped toward the sound, and it felt like ages for the afterimages to settle. I squinted what felt like eyes at the shape, and the more I stared, the more apparent and clear the scene became. A young boy with light brown skin, high-pointed ears, dark black hair, and heterochromatic eyes glared at me.

"Me?" I muttered.

"Yes, you," he said back.

"You're me?" I asked.

"Obviously," he snapped back, his tone frigid as ice. But, despite my voice echoing in my head, his was clear as day.

Well, I guess it is my voice…this child is me.

"What is this place?" I asked the young version of myself.

"That doesn't matter. What does matter is the decisions and realizations you come to."

"And what would those be?" I questioned.

The younger version of me didn't even sigh. He just glared at me with cold eyes. "It's honestly so simple that the fact you haven't realized it yet shows how far we have regressed."

"Then care to elaborate, me?" I asked.

My mind…I feel so…slow…the words coming out… just aren't what I want them to be.

The young me started forward. "How about starting with the fact that you are a hypocrite."

"How am I a hypocrite? I don't understand," I questioned.

The young me snorted and glared resentfully at me. "You better start thinking because he won't let you slither away."

"He?"

My question fell on deaf ears as my world warped and changed one more. Images flew past me so fast I couldn't make any of them out. It felt as if I was moving through warp space without being a ship, and it was nauseating and disorientating.

But the space cleared, and I was at another familiar place. Unfortunately, this one was far worse of a memory.

I stared at the field of golden wheat as far as the eye could see. Then, I turned around slowly so as not to let the afterimages overwhelm me again and came face to face with a matted-down piece of black hair behind a pair of iron bars atop a wooden carriage.

One bloodshot swirling purple amethyst eye glared at me from behind the wad of hair. It was me. It was definitely me when I was a slave.

"Have you forgotten what it was like to be here? What we went through?" the hoarse voice of my former self asked me bitterly.

"Of course not. I would and will never forget," I answered back firmly.

"Is that so? Then why are you a hypocrite?! Why are you doing this?!" he growled.

"I…don't understand…how am I a hypocrite?"

The cage rattled, and I wasn't even able to blink. The version of myself reached out through the bars with feral lighting fast movements and gripped my arm. I felt like the pain should be there, but it was only numb. But somehow, it felt so real at the same time.

"You…do you not remember the power we sought while being trapped here!? The vows we made to ourselves as we ate that slop and fought for our life!? Why have you forgotten them!? Why are you being weak when we have the power!? He will come for us if you don't change!" he yelled, his voice grating on my ears as if he was ripping my soul apart.

I managed to break away from my grasp and took a step back, only for my world to swirl and disappear. It felt as if I was falling into a long dark tunnel. I yelled as my stomach churned and my heart raced, but no sound reached my ears.

But I eventually plopped out of the tunnel onto my back. I looked up at a gray stone ceiling with an ornate chandelier hanging from it. I righted myself up, and the afterimages assaulted me. Finally, my vision cleared, and a simple gray stone staircase was before me.

The same stone staircase in the Sandervile mansion.

Standing before me was me. He was wearing a finely cut black suit with a burnt orange undershirt. His hair was tied into a single ponytail, and he glared down at me in disgust with his shoulders taught and his hands clasped behind his back.

"It appears you have forgotten everything we once stood for. You play the role of the father, friend, and son with others, telling yourself to get stronger for their sake, but yet you won't take the appropriate steps to be truly strong. You have forgotten our mission. You hope that nothing will come of it, yet it still does. You've tasted defeat countless times, yet you still allow yourself to be sullied by it rather than overcome it. It's even more revolting considering your current situation. You have the time, power, resources, support, and knowledge, yet you won't do it. Yet you say you will get stronger despite staying weak. Have you not realized it yet? Have not seen your hypocrisy?" he said to me, his tone void of even venom. It was just cold and emotionless.

"You…you mean to change the course of this world…I see…you say because I have the knowledge, I should plunge this world into chaos," I said, standing to my feet slowly.

"Plunge the world into chaos? Don't make me laugh—what a silly, childish thought. We are far more capable than that. We could rule everyone and everything if we so desired. But that's not what we want. We just want power, and you refuse to take it despite it being handed to you on a golden platter."

"I…I don't want power for power's sake. I want to wield it for those I care about. Bringing that knowledge will only lead to the death and destruction of everyone and everything I care about. I'm not almighty," I snapped back.

The young version of me closed his eyes. "Therein lies your hypocrisy. You say you have the want, the need, and now you have the ability, but you won't take it. You just use flowery words to describe reasons not to take the power you say you apparently crave. You very well could be an almighty figure if you so desired. So admit it. You want to stay weak."

"If you're really me, then you know that's completely false. We know there are different types of power even in this world."

The young version of myself shook his head in disappointment and opened his cold, hateful eyes. "It seems I can give you one final warning. Just accept it either way and let it be that. No matter your choice, it will be better than doing nothing. If you continue to deny it, he will come for us."

"No," I said back. "I won't be used. Even if that makes me weak in your eyes, I'll live the way I want to live. And I don't care about this, he."

"Bold but foolish. I suppose that's all we ever were—a fearless war dog. Don't say we didn't warn us," he snorted.

"I—"

My words caught in my throat. For the first time in this place, I felt genuine emotion grip my heart and mind. It was painful to the point words couldn't describe it.

It was a primal emotion at that—one of intense fear. I barely managed to turn around before a black blur swatted me in the face.