Chapter 145 - Transcendence (Patreon)

The matron pointed to the west, her extended arm shaking as her downcast eyes stared at the dirt, "There is a glade, at the edge of our forest's shade. You'll find them there, unless the hunters have taken their fare."

Jiran's aura lifted him into the air, Mayalyn and Niya in tow. They tore across the top of the tree line, unable to see far in the deep, eerie darkness. Clouds above blocked any light from the sky, leaving his eyes straining to find the indicated glade.

"There it is!" Mayalyn pointed animatedly, her tone a reflection of the boiling rage locked in Jiran’s chest.

He brought them down before another pit, this one much larger and free of mud. Inside, there was the single corpse of a young timberling man, his chest ripped apart some time ago to reveal the most center layer to the open air. Beside him, two arms and two legs had been carefully placed in the dry dirt.

This is supposed to be an offering to the hives? Would this really keep wild beasts from rampaging through the rest of their people? What the shrelkshit is going on with this place?

Jiran's aura had already picked up the limbs and dragged them to the unconscious girl. He set them in place and Mana Confluence went to work rejuvenating each one, bringing dead cells back to life. Before they could deteriorate again, he tore apart each layer of haphazardly healed tissue on the stubs of her torso. One at a time he connected them with the appropriate layers in the limbs. The process was straightforward and barely cost him any mana since she was only tier three.

Her sap-like blood slowly worked its way into the limbs and more of his mana went to work filtering out any toxins released from the once-decayed flesh. He examined every centimeter of her carefully with Mana Omnis, only breathing a sigh of relief and laying back on the ground when her innermost layer stabilized and thrummed with a smooth, even rhythm.

“Should we stay here, or go? I do not see any beasts, but we are out in the open.” Mayalyn asked while scenting the breeze and staring into the darkness.

“I’m thinking these hunters can’t be too high a tier and I have a feeling the Timberlings won’t want to follow us out of the tree cover at night. I could use a few minutes to calm down and think. Honestly, if some beasts want to come and donate their mana, I wouldn’t mind. If they do, I’ll be able to see them coming from a long way. Mana really stands out at night with my new skill. We’re fine here until we come up with a plan.” Mayalyn nodded and relaxed, though still kept up a vigilant watch.

Niya nudged his side with the toe of her boot while looking down at him with a pensive frown, "You know, healing her probably would have cost me two entire manapools. Assuming I could even begin to understand her physiology. It's seriously not fair how good you are at everything."

"I made a promise to help you become the best damn healer in the empire someday. I plan to keep it. I'd be happy to talk about healing any time. Well maybe not right this second, we need to figure out our next move."

"Take your time. Probably not the best place to hash it out," Niya turned around, joining Mayalyn in peering into the inky gloom.

Apparently satisfied they were safe enough for now, Mayalyn sat beside him, idly running her fingers through his messy hair that was splayed out across the grass, "You were very angry. Your emotions have been muted since your evolution, it is good to see them coming out more strongly. Being emotionless is no way to live."

"Yeah, ever since seeing that other Remalon, I've been trying to coax my emotions into staying out longer. I don't want to be like that… thing. The way it killed her without even batting an eye," Jiran shuddered, then turned his head to the side as the timberling let out a pained moan. A tremble ran through her entire body, wherever it passed, leaves and branches sprouted and grew before she suddenly breathed in a deep gasp. She clutched her chest and rolled onto her side with a grimace, instantly freezing stiff upon seeing Jiran’s face centimeters from hers.

Jiran watched her mana move exactly like the other timberling, activating the skill which seemed to be tied to their voice. Her song was raspy, leaking from dry, cracked lips, "The Great Spirit! You've come to guide me through my transcendence? Or perhaps to tend my garden again?” Her fingers slowly reached toward his face, her discomfort forgotten, “What have I done to deserve such resplendence?” Her touch fell just shy of reaching him, her fingertips sliding across a layer of his aura.

Tend her garden? Again? She must have been hallucinating laying in the sunslight half dead for however long. Damn, poor girl. Still, hands off, or Mayalyn might remove them for you.

"How do you feel? I'm pretty sure I fixed everything but you’re so different, it's hard to tell.” He sat up, Mana Confluence turning a chunk of dirt into a cup that he filled with water and passed to her.

Her brows drew down, the leaves growing around her shoulders turning lavender as she shook her head lightly, “I am planted, my heartwood will rise as it should, to join the ancients in creating the Shelterwood. If you are not here to guide me, then is this but another dream? Have you come to t-tempt me in my final hour? I-I would be a fool to turn you down, I accept your grace into my f-f-flower,” Her face turned rosy as she blinked at him shyly.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but this isn't a dream. I found you and healed you. Planted? Rise as you should? Are you saying that when your people die, you turn into trees?”

Niya’s head tilted as she put together Jiran’s meaning and the girl's strange behavior, her eyes lighting up with mischief. “Oh, c’mon Jiran, don’t let her down. Give her what she wants. Make her… bark.”

Jiran turned to Niya, his mouth hanging open. “You did not.”

Finally realizing they were not alone, the timberling looked between Niya and Mayalyn before her usual melody was replaced by a squeaked, “Oh.” Suddenly, the leaves sprouting from her temples grew profusely until they completely covered her brightly blushing face.

Niya threw her head back and laughed while Mayalyn wore a confused frown, “I did not understand everything Niya said. Translate for me, What is bark? And why would you give it to her?”

“Nope-nope-nope,” Jiran hopped to his feet, pulling Mayalyn up with him. He then reached out a hand to the prone girl who had formed a slit in the foliage across her eyes so she could watch them. “On your feet, we need to talk, and I need to make sure you’re healed. Let’s go, doctor's orders.”

“I understand, I-I will take your hand.” Jiran pulled her up and she shook herself lightly, sending a large amount of her leaves falling to the ground. He pressed the cup into her hands and she stared at it blankly for a moment before downing the crystal-clear water with a relieved sigh. He refilled it, the liquid seeming to pour directly out of his thumb.

While she stared in fascination at the display, Jiran spoke gently, “First off, can you try to stop the rhyming, please? I think it's tied to the skill you're using.”

“I do not understand, what is a skill? Am I using it still?”

“Okay, let’s try this,” Jiran pulled a trickle of mana out of his body and pushed it into her core where he wrapped it around her skill.

Her mouth fell open at the feeling of his energy creating a blockade inside her chest. With her mana no longer able to access the skill, she spoke in a relatively normal, if horrified, whisper, “What did you do? My connection to the song is… gone?”

“So it was your skill causing the rhyming! That’s pretty cool. Maybe some kind of mental manipulation that forces the listener to hear something slightly different than what you’re actually saying? All I did was stop your mana from feeding into your skill. I’ll release it after we get some straight answers. So far, all our questions have been met with unintelligible rhyming.”

When the girl only stared at him incomprehensibly, Mayalyn squeezed his hand, “Jiran, be nice. She has only just recovered.”

“Je-run?” She said his name slowly, a goofy grin creeping across her face.

“Yeah, Jiran. That’s my name. Not ‘Great Spirit.’ I’m not a spirit of any kind, I just came through a portal that happens to be in that pond. This is my partner, Mayalyn, and my cousin, Niya. What’s your name?”

“Oh, uhm, hello. Jiran. Mayalyn. Niya. I was Luaraluatorapa, but I no longer have a name.” Her gaze fell to the ground and she bit her lip so hard that a drop of thick, sappy blood blossomed.

Jiran translated and Niya was the first to respond, “How can you no longer have a name? Is that part of your status just blank now?” Jiran parroted her questions, curious as well.

“The matron gave me that name as a sapling, and upon learning of my transgression, she took it away before planting me, as is proper. The next of my direct kin will take the name, hopefully bringing it less shame than I did.” She was still looking at the ground when her eyes darted up to look at Jiran through her lashes, “I-I have a question, if I am permitted to speak it.”

“Absolutely,” He motioned with his hand for her to continue.

“I wish to answer your second question, but I don’t know what you meant. What is a 'status blank'?”

“Uh, I guess that would be if one of the lines in your status didn’t have anything in it.” Her shoulders hunched and the leaves around her head began to quake. Realizing his answer only made her more confused and nervous, Jiran tried to calm her. “It’s okay, we aren’t going to get mad at you no matter what you say.”

“I am so sorry Gre-Jiran. I do not understand what this 'status' is. Lines, blanks, I don’t know what any of that means.” She wrung her hands, her foliage drooping.

“Are you saying you don’t have a status? When you close your eyes you don’t see a bunch of words written on the backs of your eyelids?”

“Why would there be words on my eyelids? That sounds like a very uncomfortable place to receive a tattoo.” Both she and Jiran shuddered instinctively at the uncomfortable mental image.

“So you really don’t have a status?”

Is that why Identify deems them as having failed to integrate? Or is it something else and not having a status is just a byproduct?

When she shook her head sadly, Jiran merely shrugged and moved on. “Okay, thanks for answering as best you could. If you don’t have a name anymore, what should we call you?”

“I don’t know. I’m so sorry. You wanted answers from me but I’m not being helpful at all,” Tears began to leak from her eyes as her voice trembled.

The girl stiffened in surprise when Mayalyn’s arms wrapped around her shoulders. “Shh, everything is going to be fine. You are safe with us, and you are alive. Let it out. Let it go,” Jiran didn’t need to translate as Mayalyn’s soothing, warm voice released the floodgates holding back the girl's emotions. Mayalyn pulled her to the ground and held her as she cried. Jiran and Niya walked a short distance away, giving them some space.

“Was it like this when you met Mayalyn’s people for the first time? I wasn’t sure what to expect, but this is pretty awesome. Other than the whole finding her torn apart thing, I already like it here more than home. No Lenton or emperors to tell us what to do, no rules we have to follow, just mystery and adventure. What’s out there, you think?” She tilted her chin toward the darkness beyond the nearby pit.

“I don’t know, but you’re right. It's definitely exciting to know we’ll find out in the morning.”

Niya nodded vigorously, “Right?! I can’t wait! So, what should we do about her people? They tried to kill her because she lied to you? And that Matron lady seems pretty damn suspicious.”

“Until we get the full story, nothing. And even then, it might be best to stay out of it. We don’t know anything about them or why they did that to her. I got the impression she didn’t consider turning into a tree to be death. They’re certainly built like a tree on the inside, so maybe she really would have become a sentient tree. Who knows? As for that Matron, yeah I definitely don’t like her. Anyone willing to rip off someone’s limbs and toss them in the dirt isn’t worth the air they’re breathing.”

“If you don’t want to, I could always do it…”

“Hey, I’m the troublemaker in the party, remember? If even I think it’s a bad idea, it definitely can’t be good.”

“Whatever, the offer stands if you change your mind.”

“Thanks, cuz,” Jiran lightly punched her shoulder causing her teeth to flash in a wide grin. They walked back to Mayalyn and the girl, whose sobs had turned to light sniffles.

“Gre-Jiran. Thank you for saving me,” She scrambled out of Mayalyn’s grip and dropped to her knees. Her forehead touched the ground and she held out her arms toward him, her hands cupped. Her voice was rife with emotion, each word nearly sending her spiraling back into sobs, “I did not want to transcend. I wanted to greet you when you returned. I wanted to guide you. To sing across all the sects that you had come to fulfill the prophecy.”

Hearing the desperation to tell her story, none of them dared to interrupt. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she pushed herself to say what she desperately needed to say, “When the Matron discovered my lie, she took the honor of herald for herself, and I knew I could only accept. They came in the night, took me from my birther, and forced me to either transcend or die alone in the ancestral field. I held on as long as I could. I only wanted to hear them sing that you had returned, then I could move on, in peace. I never for a moment dreamed you would heal me as you did my birther. Thank you for saving me. Thank you eternally. From the center of my heartwood, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Jiran leaned down and patted the top of her head, the warmth swimming through his chest reflected in a beaming smile that stretched his lips, “So, what are we going to do about a name for you? I liked your old one, if you’re set on not getting it back, how about Lulu? It’s pretty close, right?”

Her head snapped up, her gaze locking onto his mouth, “Lu…lu? Lu-lu? Lulu! I-I love it,” Her eyes flew open when she realized what she had said, and in a flash, the foliage across her head bloomed, each of the leaves as scarlet as the cheeks they hid.