Sparks that Spread

March 29, 2025.

Location: Robert's Settlement near Kilrain, Scotland.

Robert stretched his arms over his head, letting the warmth of the fire soak into his skin for one last moment. The air was crisp, the distant crackle of wood burning softening the night, its embers glowing like scattered stars against the dark. "It's been a pleasure sharing this evening with you all," he said, smiling around the circle of MacEwans. "But I should head to my cottage and get some rest. Tomorrow's tour will need a rested guide, after all."

He took a step away from the group, but a small, warm hand slipped into his. Robert glanced down, startled, and saw Lilia walking beside him, swinging their joined hands back and forth as if they were children strolling through a meadow. Her expression was calm, but her green eyes sparkled with amusement, the corners of her mouth curving in a teasing smile.

Heat rushed to Robert's face, his cheeks turning crimson. He darted a nervous glance toward Laird Ewan and Ruari, who watched from the fire.

His stomach clenched, expecting disapproval, but Ewan and Ruari burst into uproarious laughter.

"She's her own woman, Laird Robert!" Ewan said, clutching his sides as he bellowed, his voice rich with good humor. "We don't possess her choices!"

Ruari wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "Aye, Robert, best get used to it. That one does as she pleases," he added.

Robert turned to Lilia, who grinned openly, her face alight with mirth. She shrugged, lifting both hands in a "What did I do?" gesture that deepened his blush.

Lilia leaned up on her toes and pecked Robert's cheek, quick and playful.

He froze, her suggestive gaze imprinting itself in his mind. She skipped back toward her clanfolk, casting a final fond glance over her shoulder before reclaiming her seat.

The MacEwans hooted and hollered, their mirth infectious. Hamish laughed so hard he spilled ale over his boots.

Snow collapsed against Sorcha, helpless with giggles. "Goodnight, Laird Robert!" someone teased, accompanied by exaggerated eyebrow wiggles from several men.

Robert tried to muster a dignified response, bowing deeply in mock formality, but he laughed too hard to hold the pose. He waved them off as he hurried toward the gates, trying to outrun his embarrassment.

Chaucer stood at the main gate, his kukri crossed over his chest in a dramatic pose. "Goodnight, Master," he said in his richly refined voice, his twitching whiskers betraying amusement at Robert's flushed face.

"Goodnight, Chaucer," Robert said, tapping his fist lightly against Chaucer's, human to mouse fist. Chaucer returned the gesture with a broad smile, his sharp teeth gleaming.

Robert passed into the quiet of the dig site, the lingering warmth of the MacEwans' laughter filling him. Despite his embarrassment, he felt lighter, happier than he had in years. These people had a way of pulling him out of his head, out of the isolation he'd grown accustomed to.

Moira's voice, quiet all evening, spoke softly in his mind. "So, what do you think, Vessel? Do you like them?"

Robert slowed his steps, letting the question settle. The wind carried the earthy scent of the golden Grove nearby, its leaves shimmering with motes of light that danced like fireflies. "I've never met a more enjoyable group of people in my life," he said truthfully, his voice quieter than usual.

Moira's tone grew warm, with an edge of pride. "They are the closest thing to my kin I could locate in your world. They remind me of the people in Albion, the good and righteous, the honorable folk who upheld the Song and the light of life."

Robert stopped, gazing up at the stars scattered across the sky. "That explains a lot," he murmured.

"And that Lilia," Moira added slyly, her smile evident in her voice, "is something else too, hmm?"

Robert groaned, heat rushing to his face again. "Goodnight, Moira."

Her magical giggles followed him to his cottage, a mischievous melody punctuated by popping bubbles of golden light that faded into the night. Robert slipped inside, leaning against the door with a sigh. His heart beat too fast, and a foolish smile curved his lips.

The world outside grew quiet as Robert crawled into bed, his thoughts drifting to Lilia's bright green eyes and her fearless, playful nature. As sleep claimed him, he dreamed of laughter, warmth, and a future that didn't seem so lonely anymore.

March 30, 2025.

Morning came too fast. Robert's dreams could have lasted forever, and he would have been content in that realm within his mind. But he had promised a tour, and he wasn't going to keep anyone waiting.

He threw on nicer clothes from the market, Snow's overzealous effort to "upgrade his aesthetic." Adjusting the fitted shirt's collar, Robert brushed his hair with his fingers, noting to get a brush soon.

Passing a silvery mirror, Robert caught his reflection and paused. He straightened, smirking wryly. "Suddenly worried about your appearance, Robert?" he muttered.

He knew exactly why.

Robert shook his head with a soft laugh, grabbed his shillelagh, and stepped outside. The sun painted the Grove's golden leaves in radiant light, motes drifting like fireflies. The breeze carried the earthy scent of recent diggings, a promise of new beginnings.

Chaucer stood at the gates, his armor gleaming. "Morning, Master," he said smoothly, saluting crisply, his eloquent voice startling Robert.

"Morning, Chaucer," Robert replied, returning the salute with a nod.

Beyond the gates, Clan MacEwan stirred, children darting between wagons as adults packed supplies. Ewan, Ruari, Sorcha, and Lilia stood near the lead wagon, chatting.

Robert faltered briefly at the sight of Lilia, her dark curls catching the morning light, her grace stirring his nerves in the best way.

Ewan raised a hand in greeting. "There he is! The great Laird Robert!"

Robert flushed at the title. "Good morning, Laird Ewan. I trust your clan rested well?"

"Like babes in cradles," Ewan said with a grin. "And we're eager to see what you've built here, lad. Lead the way!"

Robert gestured toward the gates, pride swelling as Chaucer opened them wide. The MacEwans moved like a wave, spreading out with curiosity. Some admired the gate's stone construction, others wandered toward market stalls, pointing at wares.

Ewan, Sorcha, Ruari, Lilia, and a few others stayed close as Robert began the tour.

"This is the market," Robert said, gesturing to the stalls lining the main path. "It's still in its infancy, but Snow's done an excellent job managing it. There's food, textiles, and tools available, all produced here or brought in by merchants."

Robert saw Lilia's eyes sparkle as she examined vibrant displays, her hands brushing over fabrics and trinkets. She turned to him with a broad smile, giving a quick thumbs-up before skipping back to Ewan's side.

Sorcha rested her hands on her walking stick. "Looks like you've got a solid foundation here, Robert," she said. "But markets thrive on diversity. You'll need more traders coming through if you want it to grow."

Robert nodded. "That's the plan. I'm hoping the Grove and its unique resources will draw more interest over time."

They passed the training grounds, a sandy arena with targets and dummies, motes of healing magic drifting like fireflies from STEVE's installation.

Ruari's face lit up. "Now that's what I like to see! A proper place for a man to sharpen his skills."

Ewan clapped Ruari on the back. "Don't get too eager, lad. You'll be swingin your sword soon enough," he laughed.

Sorcha raised an eyebrow at Robert. "I assume this is Hamish's doing?"

"Partially," Robert admitted. "He's helped me shape it into something practical for combat training and magic practice."

Ruari inspected a scorched dummy, glancing back with a challenging grin. "Care for a demonstration later, Robert? I'd like to see what kind of tricks you've got up your sleeve."

"Maybe," Robert said with a smirk. "But I'd hate to embarrass you in front of your clan."

Ruari's hearty laugh promised he'd take up the challenge soon.

They moved deeper, passing new housing, the mess hall, and recreation spaces STEVE designed. The clan's reactions ranged from curiosity to delight.

Lilia twirled in an open courtyard, as if testing the space for a dance.

They reached the arch, its granite structure looming, runes etched on weathered stones. A golden light bubble popped near the keystone rune, drawing the clan's awe.

Ewan let out a low whistle. "Now that's a sight."

Sorcha brushed her fingers over a stone's surface. "What is it, Robert?" she asked.

"A gateway," Robert said, his voice quieter. "Or it will be, once it's restored. It's called the Keystone Gateway, and it has the potential to connect this place to over a hundred others across the world."

Ruari crossed his arms, thoughtful. "And how do you restore it?"

Robert gestured to the indentations on the blocks. "Each one requires a rune, one for every location it connects to. The keystone rune up there is just the start. The rest…" He sighed. "Well, they're scattered across the globe."

Ewan nodded slowly, gazing at the arch. "A project of this magnitude will take years, maybe decades."

"Maybe," Robert admitted. "But it's worth it. If we can rebuild this, it could change everything."

Robert saw Lilia step closer to the arch, her eyes wide with wonder. She glanced back at him, her expression full of curiosity and hope.

He gestured for them to follow toward a smaller structure near the settlement's heart. Blue light motes flickered inside, STEVE's presence radiating.

"Come on," Robert said, glancing back. "I'd like you to meet someone."

Ruari raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Someone? Or something?"

"You'll see," Robert said with a grin.

The air shimmered as they approached, and inside, STEVE's crystalline core hovered, its bluish glow steady. Light motes popped around it, a testament to its magic.

"STEVE," Robert said firmly, "I'd like to introduce you to the Clan MacEwan. These are my allies, and you will treat them with the utmost respect. If they offer to help, you may provide them with tasks, but you are not to make demands of them. Is that clear?"

STEVE's glow pulsed, processing the order. "Understood, Master Robert. I shall accommodate them, though it is hardly optimal to deviate from more efficient resource allocation," he said dryly.

"Good," Robert said, crossing his arms. "And polite, remember? You're representing us now."

STEVE's crystal dimmed slightly, like a sulking child. "Very well. Welcome, Clan MacEwan. Should you wish to contribute to the settlement's development, I can provide recommendations. However, rest assured, your presence will not be a requirement for continued efficiency," he said in his monotone.

The clan stared in astonishment, their eyes wide. Sorcha spoke first, her tone filled with awe. "A talking crystal. By the gods, I thought that was just a tale to scare children!"

Ruari snorted. "Looks more like a floating gem than a rock, but I'll admit, it's impressive."

Sorcha muttered, her eyes glued to the shard. "Impressive doesn't begin to cover it."

Robert noticed Lilia step forward, her gaze intense as she stared at the nearby swirling blue-green portal.

He followed her line of sight, realizing the portal to DAVE's Sanctum was active. Robert saw her furrowed brow and searching eyes turn to him, silently demanding an explanation.

"It's her magic," Robert said softly, meeting her gaze. "Moira. The magic I use comes from her, and this portal, and everything you've seen here, exists because of her. She gave me the spark and the ability to share it with others."

Robert saw Lilia's expression remain steady, her hands clenching slightly at her sides, her curiosity and doubt palpable. She pointed at him, then at the portal, her gestures sharp.

"I can share it with you, Lilia. If you're willing to trust me," Robert said, offering a tentative smile.

Robert saw Lilia's eyes widen slightly, surprise flashing across her face, followed by a hesitant shake of her head, doubt lingering.

"Moira," Robert said internally, "can you help me out here? Can you analyze her potential?"

Moira's voice responded instantly, warm and eager. "Of course, Vessel. One moment."

A swirl of golden light appeared, motes dancing like fireflies as the clan gasped. Golden text materialized on the disk, visible to all.

Name: Lilia MacEwan

Race: Human Female, Nomad

Age: 26

Class: Not Defined

Potential Values:

Combat Magic: Above Average

Healing Magic: Peak Ultimate

Utility Magic: Genius

Melee Combat: Average

Bloodline Traits:

Undiscovered Traits: 3

Detected Trait: Soul of Song (Potential to weave magic into song and harp when used together.)

Stats:

Strength: 11

Dexterity: 16

Constitution: 12

Wisdom: 22

Intellect: 19

Charisma: 36

Silence reigned. The clan's gazes locked on the glowing text.

Ruari whispered, his voice quiet. "What is this?"

"It's her potential," Robert said simply, his awe mingling with theirs. "What she's capable of, if she chooses to take the spark."

Robert saw Lilia's hands clasp at her chest, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She turned to Ewan, gesturing from her throat as if singing, lip-syncing a song with little hops of desperation, her plea clear: "Please, Father. I want to sing!"

Ewan rubbed his chin, his gaze shifting from the disk to the portal, then to Robert. He looked to Sorcha, who nodded slowly, her intense gaze fixed on the text.

Sorcha stepped forward, her presence commanding. "You may," she said, her voice resolute, like a distant bell. "Lilia, this spark belongs to you, if you'll have it."

Ewan stepped back, deferring to Sorcha's judgment, his respect clear.

Sorcha turned to Robert, her expression softening. "But," she continued, "I want it too. The spark. Not to see my potential displayed like this, I would prefer to discover it on my own, in my own time. But I wish to walk this path as well."

Robert saw Lilia's eyes widen in surprise and gratitude. She spun and hugged Sorcha quickly before looking back at Robert, her expression pleading and hopeful.

Robert nodded at Sorcha, respect in his voice. "That can be arranged. But as with all of this, what happens next is between you and Moira."

Moira's voice chimed, rich with warmth. "This is exactly what must be, Vessel. Thank you."

Robert watched Lilia, her green eyes shining with excitement and nervous energy. Her trust swelled his heart.

He summoned the spark, glowing brighter with motes of light. Moira's voice guided him softly. "More. Make the spark large, it will be required for this one." Robert obliged, gathering more energy, bringing his hands together into a large, intangible sphere of magic that shimmered with popping bubbles. He held it out to Lilia, its radiance illuminating her face.