A Year's Results

"This isn't working," Thane muttered under his breath as he stared at the soul gem currently suspended within a hexagonal prism and wrapped in a dense mesh. Both the mesh and the prism were made out of mithri. and through a viewing window, one could see the dense mana vapor responsible for supplying the artificial soul with a steady stream of mana. Thane quickly discovered that even without a physical vessel, the soul steadily lost the mana it contained within without a way to naturally replenish its reserves. Theorizing that the lack of mana pathways to attract and funnel the mana into the soul was to blame, Thane quickly fabricated an artificial set of pathways, thus the mesh laying over the crystalline orb. 

Had the need not arisen Thane would have never attempted to create the pathways in the first place, though what he gained from applying his knowledge and the process was invaluable. Now within his formations Thane could control the flow of mana with almost absolute precision instead of relying on natural tendencies where mana flowed from high to low concentration. This meant that within formations runes had to be ordered in such a way for a domino to occur with those towards the circumference being the first to activate and so on. 

After discovering something so meaningful within the first few days of possessing the soul gem, Thane decided he wouldn't rush to decrypt the hidden invitation within the gem. Instead, he would attempt to uncover the gem's secrets and recreate the magic used in its formation. 

Thane had made that decision a year ago, and while he made some progress he was nowhere close to replication. 

Realizing that simply staring at the soul gem would result in anything Thane came to the improbable decision that a break would serve him well, 'I've been throwing myself at a brick wall, getting some distance might let me see another way around.' 

Knowing that he was going to step away from his experiments for an extended period Thane set about preparing his lab for his absence. Just because a majority of his time had been consumed with the soul gem that didn't mean Thane had dedicated a month or two to other projects. 

The first of which was a massive light construct of the entire planet so large that Thane had to expand his laboratory to create an entire room dedicated to housing the illusion. Though there was nothing misleading about the construct which mirrored the exact tilt and rotation of the earth, the projection was also spotted with small diamonds connected to each with a network of arching lines that came in a variety of colors.

The construct was a complex monitoring formation that tracked the activity of every single gateway comprising the Global Arcane Delivery System which had expanded across the globe like wildfire since its introduction in Brazil. However, there were still some countries that were resistant to the idea of adding to Thane's quickly growing monopoly. 

After ensuring there weren't any issues with the system Thane moved on to his next project. 

Stepping into the next chamber—one exponentially larger than the room housing the monitoring system—Thane was immediately engulfed by a wave of heat so intense it would have scorched the lungs of most mortals within minutes. The air shimmered with thermal distortion, and the floor beneath his feet radiated a dry, pulsing warmth that seemed to hum with ancient life.

The chamber itself resembled the caldera of a dormant volcano. Its walls and floor were forged from thick slabs of rugged granite, blackened and cracked from constant exposure to magical combustion. Crags littered the surface like jagged scars, and from their depths, caustic plumes of yellowish vapor hissed upward, casting an acrid tint into the already molten air.

As soon as Thane crossed the threshold, the room responded.

Dozens of serpentine heads lifted in unison—long necks coiling and eyes gleaming like molten gold as they fixed on him. A cacophony of deep, echoing roars and reverberating growls thundered through the cavernous space, bouncing off the ceiling like a war chant. To most, the sound might have been terrifying. To Thane, it was a chorus of welcome.

He smiled.

"Hello, ladies," he greeted, his voice calm and commanding, yet warm with affection. "Is everyone feeling alright?"

The response came in the form of more guttural growls and hisses—some gentle, others sharper, but all distinctly familiar. He moved fluidly between the nests, each one a hollowed-out mound of volcanic stone filled with bedding materials sourced from enchanted flameweed and thermally resistant moss.

As he approached the nearest nest, the mother—an obsidian-scaled beast with silver-rimmed horns—let out a low grumble of protest. With practiced ease, Thane extended a hand and gently pushed a calming pulse of magic into the air. The dragon blinked slowly, then shifted aside with a reluctant huff, allowing him access to the nest's heart.

Inside, five eggs lay in a tight cluster, their smooth metallic shells glowing faintly beneath the ambient light. Twisting across their surface like ivy on old brick were delicate, root-like filaments—pale green and softly pulsating, as if breathing in rhythm with the eggs themselves.

Yggdrasil's touch.

Kneeling beside the nest, Thane carefully examined each egg, running his fingertips along the shells, checking for imperfections. Dull patches were a sign of mana imbalance, a danger to the developing dragon within. But each one shone with pristine vitality. The roots, too, looked healthy—no sign of rot or decay, only vibrant growth.

One by one, Thane repeated the process across every nest in the chamber. Some mothers grumbled more than others, but none challenged his authority.

Eventually, he arrived at the rear of the room—far from the noise and heat of the central brooding pits. Here, nestled in a basin of char-blackened soil so rich it shimmered with flecks of silver, rested a sacred grove of sorts. The cuttings of Yggdrasil.

Even within the seemingly unfavorable conditions of the room, the vestigial cuttings were thriving, and without Thane's guidance sought out each nest of eggs and established a symbiotic relationship with the maturing dragons. 

What the exact nature of that relationship was Thane did not know, he knew that Yggdrasil provided the eggs with a steady supply of incredibly dense mana. As for what Yggdrasil got in return he could no surmise, his current working theory was that mana was a waste product from Yggdrasil's life functions and allowing it to be absorbed by living things, specifically their souls. With his last inspection of the roost complete Thane left the den and made his last stop. 

Breaking the pattern of grandiose chambers, the next room Thane stepped into was deliberately small—claustrophobic, barely larger than a walk-in closet. Its walls were lined with thick mithril plating, etched with containment runes that pulsed faintly beneath the metal like veins beneath the skin. The insulation was absolute, cutting the space off from all external magical interference.

A necessary precaution, considering the occupant.

At the center of the room stood a reinforced glass cylinder, tall and narrow, housing a dense, formless cloud of black mist. The moment Thane entered, the fog writhed as if stirred by an unseen wind, coiling and twisting until it condensed into a vague, grotesque face—skeletal, with patches of necrotic grey flesh clinging to a sunken frame.

"D-Destroyer…" the creature rasped, its voice brittle and barely tethered to reality. "H-Have you returned… to seal m-my fate?"

Even after all this time, Thane hadn't grown used to hearing the thing speak. That it could speak—coherently, no less—remained an ongoing enigma.

'I assumed communication would be limited, primitive… But this? This is something else entirely.'

"No," Thane replied calmly, stepping closer. The wards around the cylinder reacted to his proximity, flaring for an instant before stabilizing. His eyes met the swirling, empty voids where the creature's gaze might have once existed. "I'm not here to end you. I only came to let you know this may be our last meeting—for a while."

He paused, then added, "If you'd prefer more space in the meantime, I can authorize an expansion of your cell. I imagine the current confinement is… stifling."

The dementor's mist-like body stilled, almost in thought. But then, in the same stammering cadence as before, it whispered:

"H-Have you c-come… to seal my fate?"

Thane stared for a long moment, his expression unreadable. A loop, he thought, 'Asks the same question every time...but it's given me a title...and its use of the word fate...there's a significance to the phrasing which suggests some form of basic culture...but what culture could possibly exist between semi-sentient soul wraiths.'

"I'll take that as a 'no,'" Thane muttered, turning away, though a note of contemplation lingered in his voice. "Let's see if you're still asking the same question… when I return."