Chapter 7 - Echoes of the Storm

Sylvas and his family stood in front of the impressive building of the Aetherion Guild, taking a brief moment to admire their surroundings. The expansive stone courtyard radiated a serene power. The ground was made of stones adorned with root-like patterns, emanating a faint warmth with every step. At the center of the courtyard rose a monument crafted from Moonstone Glass, its reflections shimmering as if carrying the energy of another world.

Elaris gently touched Sylvas's shoulder and said, "Come on, let's go inside."

The wooden doors silently opened without any physical intervention, and the family stepped into the guild's expansive entry hall. The ceiling was high, and the walls were adorned with intricate tree motifs. At the center stood a tree sculpture, its leaves trembling slightly, as if breathing.

As the family moved further inside, a robed man approached them quietly. His hair was slightly grayed, and a calm smile graced his face. His eyes carried a deep wisdom, as if they could perceive the essence of everything.

"Welcome," he said in a calm, professional tone. "Everyone who comes to the Aetherion Guild has a purpose. How can we assist you?"

Kaelan stepped forward and responded evenly, "We sense a stirring in our son's spirit. We wish to discover his soul tree and learn more about it."

The man looked at Sylvas carefully, his gaze moving as though he were measuring the energy within. With a slight nod, he said, "I see. This is a common situation, yet every soul tree is unique, and every discovery is its own journey. I will direct you to the Rootmasters; they will oversee the process."

The family followed the man to a side door. Beyond it was a simpler yet equally enchanting room. At its center was a large table surrounded by three individuals. Each was of varying age and appearance, but the calm authority they exuded made it clear they were experts in their field.

The elderly man in the center began speaking directly. "Welcome. Tell me, when did you first notice your son's soul tree?"

Elaris took the lead in responding. "For a few months now, we've felt something different within him. He told us about a restlessness in his spirit, but we couldn't fully understand what it was."

The man made brief eye contact with Sylvas, his gaze steady and thoughtful. "Your spirit has issued an early call. This is often seen in individuals with great potential. However, early awakenings require careful attention and guidance. We must proceed to the Ritual Chamber to visualize your soul tree and prepare accordingly."

Another Rootmaster spoke, this time with a sharper tone. "The type and energy of your soul tree are crucial, both for you and those around you. Preparations will be complete shortly. But know that this process can be an intense experience for you."

Sylvas nodded with determination. "I'm ready," he said.

The Rootmasters moved swiftly and professionally, beginning the preparations with a calm precision. They issued quiet yet effective instructions, ensuring that all the necessary materials for the ritual were brought in.

As Sylvas and his family followed the Rootmasters into the depths of the guild, excitement and curiosity mingled with the air of anticipation.

When Sylvas, accompanied by his family, stepped into the Ritual Chamber, he immediately felt the profound fusion of magic and nature. The vast domed hall seemed to invite them into a story woven from roots and branches. At the center of the dome, a complex motif resembling a tree's canopy and roots stretched outward. Gold and silver accents shimmered within the design, evoking the sensation of walking beneath a starlit forest.

The floor, crafted from Aytaşı Glass, was alive with radiant light that resembled natural cracks. With each step Sylvas took, the cracks seemed to react as if awakened, spreading a pulse of energy that brushed against his spirit. Beneath the translucent glass, streams of light danced, promising even greater intensity as the ritual commenced.

At the heart of the chamber, a circular platform stood elevated. Surrounding it were Aether Stones, glowing in vibrant hues that shifted like a living rainbow. These stones collected and directed energy, their faint melodic hum contributing to the ritual's atmosphere.

The three Rootmasters positioned themselves silently around the edges of the room. Their robes, embroidered with patterns of roots and branches, gave off an aura of subtle authority. Though accustomed to the intricacies of such rituals, they could sense that Sylvas's energy was unusual—it demanded their full attention.

The elderly Rootmaster in the center stepped closer to Sylvas, his voice calm yet resonant.

"This ritual is a gateway to discovering the tree within your soul. But every gateway comes with a trial. Step onto the platform, close your eyes, and listen to the voices within. We are merely guides."

Taking a deep breath, Sylvas walked toward the platform. The Aytaşı Glass beneath his feet grew brighter with each step. When he reached the center, he knelt down and closed his eyes.

The Rootmasters raised their hands, chanting in an ancient tongue. Their words reverberated off the walls, creating the sensation that the chamber itself was joining the ritual. Light from the Aether Stones began to interconnect, slowly forming a web of energy around Sylvas.

The floor trembled faintly. The patterns on the Aytaşı Glass began to ripple outward from where Sylvas sat, as if responding to the energy within him. The motion signaled the awakening of his soul's power.

In Sylvas's mind, there was silence at first. Gradually, the stillness transformed into whispers, and an echo rose from within, as if a storm approaching from far away was drawing closer to him. Suddenly, an image pierced through the darkened sky and filled his thoughts: the Storm Tree.

The tree towered within swirling dark clouds, massive and imposing. Lightning bolts shot from its branches, while its roots fractured the earth as they plunged deep below. Sylvas's breathing quickened; the vision was both mesmerizing and terrifying. As the image in his mind became clearer, a wave of energy rippled outward from his body.

One of the Rootmasters sensed the growing intensity of the energy around Sylvas and signaled to the others with a nod. The elderly Rootmaster raised his hands and gestured for the activation of the Soul Mirror. The large, oval mirror before the platform began to stir. Its surface rippled like dark water before Sylvas's energy started reflecting onto it.

The silhouette of the Storm Tree appeared on the mirror's surface. Lightning arced from its branches, and gusting winds swirled around it as if it were more than a mere image—something tangible and alive. Lights surrounding the mirror illuminated the tree, revealing its full presence.

For a moment, the room was silent. One of the Rootmasters gazed at the Storm Tree's details with admiration, speaking in a hushed tone:

"The Storm Tree... a rare and extraordinary type. Its power thrives in chaos, but controlling chaos requires courage and discipline."

The elderly Rootmaster leaned toward Sylvas, placing a hand gently on his shoulder.

"This tree is a reflection of your soul. The storm feeds on the conflicts and desires you carry within. But remember, to wield this power, you must first resolve the turmoil within yourself. The journey ahead will be challenging, but your potential is immense."

The lights emanating from the Aether Stones gradually dimmed, and the patterns on the Aytaşı Glass calmed as they relinquished their energy. Sylvas took a deep breath and opened his eyes. The emotions coursing through him at the ritual's end were a mix of fear and exhilaration.

Elaris immediately approached Sylvas, pulling him into a reassuring embrace.

"Whatever happens, you won't face this path alone," she said softly.

The Rootmasters professionally assessed the results of the ritual, providing guidance to the family. For Sylvas, this ritual wasn't the end but the beginning of his true journey. The Storm Tree was no longer just an image within his soul—it was a force that would shape his life.

A Rootbinder is an individual who has forged a profound connection with their soul tree and mastered its power. They have delved deeply into their inner journey, fully understanding the essence of their tree and learning to wield its abilities effectively.

The hallmark of a Rootbinder is their independence; they are not bound to any authority, clan, guild, or kingdom. Instead, they follow their own spiritual philosophy, living as free individuals.

Rootmasters, like Rootbinders, have also mastered their soul trees. However, the fundamental difference lies in their allegiance. Rootmasters are affiliated with specific organizations, guilds, or kingdoms. Rather than pursuing personal freedom, they choose to serve a community and share their knowledge.

Rootmasters working within organizations like the Aetherion Guild possess not only mastery over their own power but also extensive knowledge of soul energy and trees. Their responsibilities include training students, guiding rituals, and protecting their communities. Their presence lends prestige and strength to the institutions they represent.

After the ritual, Sylvas and his family moved to the guild's guest garden, a tranquil space designed for relaxation away from the guild's bustling activity. Surrounded by vibrant flowers and lush greenery, the garden resonated with the soft chirping of birds and the gentle rustling of leaves in the wind. A stone path led to a wooden table, accompanied by a few chairs.

Kaelan settled into his chair, leaning back and letting out a deep breath.

"Ah, now this feels like being human again," he said with a light chuckle. "Enough seriousness for one day, don't you think? Life isn't just about responsibilities."

As Elaris took her seat, she slid a bowl of fresh fruit toward Sylvas.

"Sylvas, have some fruit. You've done enough today. If you don't eat, you'll grow weak," she said with the typical concern of a mother.

Lyra, strolling through the garden, protested playfully.

"Mom, it's always Sylvas who gets the fruit! What about me?" she teased, though her mischievous grin revealed her enjoyment of the moment.

As Sylvas grabbed a slice of fruit, he stuck out his tongue at his sister.

"You talk so much that you probably survive on that energy alone," he quipped with a soft laugh.

Elaris smiled warmly at her children's playful banter.

"Ah, you two. Watching you sometimes feels like reliving my own youth," she remarked before turning to Kaelan.

"Remember, Kaelan? You used to tease me endlessly too."

Kaelan responded with a faint smile.

"Of course. But I never lost," he said, turning to his children. "Just so you know, your mother and I were much more competitive at your age."

Lyra immediately perked up.

"Well then, let's have a contest!" she exclaimed, challenging Sylvas with a raised eyebrow. "What do you say, little brother? Ready to have some fun?"

Sylvas grinned, nodding.

"What's the challenge?" he asked, already anticipating the friendly rivalry.

Lyra gestured toward an open area near the table. "A quick race. First to reach the other side of the garden wins."

Kaelan and Elaris exchanged amused glances at their children's boundless energy. "Go ahead, we'll be watching," Elaris said with a warm smile.

Lyra and Sylvas took their positions at the starting point. "Ready... go!" Lyra shouted, and the two of them dashed off simultaneously. Their laughter echoed through the garden's flower-lined path. Sylvas pushed himself harder upon seeing Lyra's speed, but she was already ahead.

When Lyra reached the large tree at the other end of the garden, she raised her arms in triumph. "I win!" she declared. Sylvas arrived moments later, panting but laughing. "Did you cheat? It felt like you got a head start."

Lyra arched an eyebrow. "Oh no, little brother, that was all skill and experience. Don't give up, though—you might beat me someday."

Kaelan watched their return and offered some fatherly advice. "You both need stronger strides. You tire too quickly. The more you work on your endurance, the better."

Elaris waved a hand, chuckling. "Let them enjoy themselves, Kaelan. It's been an important day. A little fun is part of the balance, isn't it?"

After the race, they all returned to the table. As the sun set, the sky transformed into soft hues of orange and purple. Sylvas took a sip of water and looked up. "This garden at the guild is truly beautiful," he said.

Lyra glanced at the sky as well, a hint of melancholy in her voice. "Yes, but when we leave here, I'll miss the fields back home."

Elaris placed a comforting hand on Lyra's shoulder. "Home is always with you. Don't forget that."

Kaelan murmured softly, "And where your family is, there too is your home."

Sylvas smiled, feeling the warmth of his family. Life wasn't only about daunting rituals and challenges. At this table, everything felt just as it should.

As night slowly descended, under the soft glow of a lantern in the guild's garden, the family shared moments of joy and tranquility. Sylvas knew this was a memory he would cherish for a long time.

After the ritual, Sylvas and his family left the Aetherion Guild and began walking through the streets of Rivergate. The sun had set, draping the city in a blanket of darkness. The flickering light of lanterns illuminated the cobblestone streets, while distant laughter and the sounds of merchants closing their stalls reminded them the city was still alive.

Elaris glanced around, her voice tinged with concern. "It's getting late. Continuing our journey now isn't safe."

Kaelan nodded. "Yes, our home is nearly a week's travel from here. We'll need to find a place to stay in the city."

Lyra pointed to a large sign further down the street. The sign read "The Rising Moon Inn" in bold letters, accompanied by an elegant motif of a crescent moon and stars. "That looks promising," she said excitedly.

When the family stepped into the warm atmosphere of The Rising Moon Inn, the lively ambiance immediately caught their attention. The heat from the fireplace, the sound of laughter resonating on the stone floor, and the gentle hum of music created an inviting scene. Merchants, adventurers, and locals were gathered, eating meals and sipping drinks. Kaelan approached the reception desk.

Behind the desk stood a middle-aged, polite innkeeper who greeted them with a wide smile. "Welcome! Staying for the night?"

Kaelan nodded. "Yes, we'll need two rooms for one night. We're looking for a place for our family to rest."

The innkeeper thought for a moment, then reached under the counter and produced two keys, placing them on the desk. "We have two rooms upstairs—warm, clean, and close to the fireplace. The nightly rate is six silver Kron."

Kaelan pulled out a leather pouch and checked its contents. Inside were a few gold Kron and several silver Kron. He took out six silver Kron and handed them to the innkeeper. The coins gleamed faintly in the light, etched with motifs of wheat stalks. The innkeeper took the coins and weighed them on a small scale to verify their authenticity.

"Everything's in order," the innkeeper said. "The keys are yours. If you'd like dinner, we have an evening menu available. For a few copper Kron, you can enjoy a hot meal and a drink."

Kaelan turned to the others, smiling. "Let's sit down and have something to eat."

The family chose a table near the fireplace. The old but clean wooden surface of the table was lit by several small candles. Soon after, a server arrived and presented the menu.

"Tonight, we have hot soup, stew, and freshly baked bread. Each serving is eight copper Kron," the server said.

Elaris turned to the server. "Could we have four servings, please? And add some wine as well."

As Kaelan took out the copper Kron from his pouch, their modest yet functional design stood out. Unlike the silver and gold Kron, these coins were simpler, with a duller finish. The server collected the coins and relayed the order to the kitchen.

Shortly after, the meals were brought to their table. The steaming bowls of soup, paired with soft, fresh bread, created a cozy atmosphere. Lyra raised her wine glass with a grin. "Now, tell me—didn't we earn this meal today?"

Sylvas stirred his soup slowly. "The food in this city really does taste different," he said. "But these Kron are a bit confusing. Why do we need so many types of currency?"

Kaelan chuckled. "Kron keep daily life running, my son. But nobles and guilds use Aureum for more valuable things. For now, Kron will serve us well, but one day, if you ever need Aureum, you'll have to understand it."

Sylvas furrowed his brow. "One Aureum is worth a hundred gold Kron. Who could even save up that much?"

Lyra shrugged, smirking. "Maybe one day you'll become an adventurer and take on jobs that pay in Aureum, little brother."

After finishing their meal, the family stood and prepared to head to their rooms. The innkeeper escorted them upstairs and handed over their keys. Sylvas and Lyra shared one room, while Elaris and Kaelan stayed in the other.

Inside the rooms, the warmth from the fireplace and the scent of wooden furniture immediately enveloped them. The beds were simple but comfortable, and through the windows, the dim lights of the city were visible. Sitting on his bed, Sylvas turned a small copper Kron over in his hand.

"It seems like such a small thing, but it's interesting to think about how much can be done with just this," he mused aloud.

Lyra, lying on her bed, smiled. "The little things in life always matter. Now try to get some sleep. We can explore a bit and shop tomorrow," she said.

That night, thanks to the innkeeper's diligence, the inn was silent. All the hustle and bustle of the city seemed to have been left behind the stone walls of the inn. Sylvas peacefully closed his eyes and drifted into sleep. Tomorrow, they would continue their journey from where they had left off.

Far from the city's main streets, in a narrow alley swallowed by darkness, stood a shanty among a row of makeshift houses. The structure was simple yet worn, its appearance blending into the surrounding dereliction. Its exterior was a patchwork of misplaced bricks and various wooden planks wedged between them. The roof, made of old metal sheets, creaked softly in the wind. Above the door hung a broken lantern that flickered weakly, casting elongated shadows of a pair of shoes left on the ground before the entrance.

Like the other buildings on the street, the shanty was isolated in its construction. Most of the neighboring houses had no light within them; the people here were either asleep or sitting silently in the dark. Occasionally, the sound of a crying baby or the faint murmur of distant voices broke the stillness, but overall, an air of deathly quiet prevailed.

As one approached the shanty, it became evident that the door was slightly ajar. A dim light seeped through the gap, hinting at someone's presence inside. Yet the light did not convey warmth; instead, it exuded an unsettling aura.

Inside, the air was heavy and oppressive. In one corner stood an old table, tilted slightly, with a crooked candle and scattered papers strewn across it. Wax dripped from the candle, pooling on the table's surface and hardening like scars. The walls were damp, with patches of crumbling plaster exposing the bare bricks beneath. Cobwebs clung to the ceiling corners, and the room looked as though it had been untouched by care for a long time.

On the floor lay a few broken toys, a dirty blanket, and a small pair of children's shoes. Beside the blanket, the child's mother was collapsed on the ground. Her lifeless eyes stared blankly into the void, frozen in a final moment of terror. Her simple dress was soaked with blood, clinging to the floor where she lay.

In another corner, the body of the shanty's owner slumped against the wall. His face seemed to vanish into the shadows, but deep cuts and bruises were visible on his body. He appeared to have tried to escape in his last moments, only to fail.

Next to the woman, a small child lay motionless on the floor. His face was peaceful, his eyes closed, as though death had gently taken him away while he reached out to hold his mother's hand. The tiny fingers, frozen in their outstretched position, clung to a heartbreaking semblance of life.

The shanty's new occupant sat in the center of the room on a rickety chair—a tall, dark figure cloaked in mystery. His long, dark robe blended seamlessly with the surrounding shadows. His hair, though unkempt, fell into deliberate strands over his forehead, enhancing his menacing appearance. His face was angular and stern, his pale blue eyes glowing faintly with an icy coldness that seemed to pierce through the dim light.

On the table beside him lay a small leather-bound journal. In the flickering glow of the candle, the man picked up a pen and began writing silently.

His handwriting was sharp and meticulous, each letter etched with deliberate precision. Every word carried an air of calculated thought:

"14th Moon, 3rd Day: The shadows call to me. Today, the tree within my soul fed once more. Its roots deepen with every life extinguished beneath its shade. The screams of these wretches mingle with the silence of my soul. The terror in the woman's eyes, the man's despair, the child's innocence—I felt them all. But they are fleeting. Strength is born from pain."

"I am drawing closer to my goal. The whispers of the Aetherion Guild's teachings reach me. Their Rootbinders and Masters stand as obstacles in my path. Yet the shadows hold deeper secrets. My Soul Tree is unlike theirs. The roots of my Weeping Shadow Tree will overshadow their fragile branches."

"There is no place for me in this world. The naive lives of these people serve only to remind me of their frailty. But this is no game. Each life is a gift, a sacrifice, and these sacrifices make me stronger."

The chilling notes within his journal mirrored his enigmatic and ruthless nature. When he finished writing, he carefully placed the pen down, closed the journal, and sat in silence for a moment. The weight of his presence made the room's oppressive atmosphere even heavier.

He slid the journal into a leather satchel and rose from his seat. Casting a glance around at the lifeless bodies, his expression betrayed no remorse or emotion. His gaze lingered for a moment on the child's innocent face before he turned and walked toward the door.

As he opened the door, a gust of wind blew into the room, extinguishing the candle's flickering flame. Without a sound, the man stepped out and vanished into the shadows. The shanty, now void of life and steeped in his cold presence, fell silent once more.