*****
"The link remains severed," the foreign voice said.
"How can that be," Vejax asked. "Did the death of Tillamund also destroy the Mysticnet?"
"I do not know. Possibly. But if I were to guess, I would say Tillamund's sacrifice is connected to the same event," replied the female tenor. "I do know this much, it is all tied to him."
Steffor sensed the stranger and those around her focused on his condition as he lay on his back with hands interlocked across his chest. With a deep, wakeful breath, he opened his eyes, sat up and leaned on one arm.
Calivera was by his side, curled up in a peaceful sleep. The smile stretching across his face pained him, beaming like a young boy overrun by joy at the sight of a long lost treasure. Without pause, he bent down and kissed her forehead. She inhaled with eyelids quivering in response but continued in her slumber.
"She has been through more than you know recently and in dire need of rest," said the newcomer's voice, sitting a few feet away. "She refused to sleep until you awoke, only succumbing to her body's need moments ago."
Dressed in the robes of a Mystic—a field Mystic gauging by the rural flora hewn on sleeves and hem—the sight of her eyes startled Steffor: wide, clear white pupils, contained by liquid amber irises.
"It is an honor to finally meet you master Steffor," she said with a respectful nod. "My name is Leanor." Reading his perplexed response to her presence, she added, "Please do not concern yourself about my role at this time. While the Provider deemed it important, my value will be revealed in due time."
Confused as he was, there was a comfort in Leonor's presence, a solace he sensed connected to Calivera's wellbeing. He stood up and stretched his entire body while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His gaze left the rogue Mystic, turning toward the sun creeping over the valley's east wall, a fiery protuberance of heat and light. For several moments, he squinted at the sun as it warmed his face, allowing his mind to replay recent events.
From his left the sound of a throat being cleared brought his attention to Kilton, Vejax, Grimlock and Martna stationed a few yards away before the Forging Tree. Loose fitting shorts and tanks that blended into the surrounding browns and greens of the tall grass now replaced the dark ceremonial garments adorned with capes and hoods.
Kilton sat cross-legged, patient as ever. His long Teuton Staff rested across his knees with thick forearms resting on top. Laced with a solemn edge, Kilton met Steffor's eye with a welcoming smile.
To his right, Vejax lay sprawled on his right side, propped up on an elbow, his left hand plucking the matted grass on which his staff lay. His casual manner did little to hide the fear Steffor witnessed in the brief eye contact they shared before Vejax turned his attention back to finding his next grass victim.
Grimlock and Martna stood next to Vejax. Both panted, coated with a fresh sheen of sweat, having apparently been in the midst of some type exercise moments ago. Typical, Steffor thought with amusement, studying the unlikely pair a moment longer. Grimlock, dwarfing most everyone, appeared even larger next to Martna, his bulging brawn accentuated by his minimal clothing. Taller than most men but average by Guardian standards, Martna looked a gangly child standing before Grimlock's hulking girth.
Despite the vast difference in their physical size, Steffor, intimately familiar with Martna’s well-defined muscles and deceptive dexterity, knew better than to assume the big man the more adept Guardian. Martna is reigning Ascender champion for the past six seasons for a reason, he reminded himself.
They each returned his gaze with a reverent nod.
Steffor reciprocated the respectful gesture before focusing his sight on the Forging Tree behind them. Based on his proximity, he realized that he stood in the same spot he was last, before releasing the Source. On impulse, he stepped toward the tree for closer inspection. It was not until he had walked a few steps past his friends that his mind registered the tree's recent transfiguration. The ancient archway, its broad opening and, he sensed, the once hollowed out cavern within no longer existed. In its place was a fresh growth of wood and bark.
Fascinated, not trusting his eyes from the deception of illusion, he quickened his approach and placed both hands on the new growth. His hands traced the fine line between old growth and new, the slight variances in color the only clue depicting the two. From his left periphery, he noticed a ray of sun reflecting off a mirrored object located under what was once the center of the archway. Steffor turned toward the reflecting light and moved in its direction, his right hand caressing the bark as he went.
"How long have I been unconscious?" Steffor asked, intently investigating the area of new growth.
"It’s hard to say," Kilton replied from a few yards away on his left. He had stood up to observe how Steffor would react to what the rest of them must have been struggling with prior to his awakening. "The rest of us awoke a few hours ago. Assuming today is the morning of the same day the Forging Ceremony took place, I would guess we have been out for five, maybe six hours. What do you sense?"
Steffor considered Kilton's words and question as he attempted to read his own internal clock. Thousands of lives spent connected to the Mysticnet instilled all Citizens with an innate sense of time, both of past and present. Calibrated by heightened senses, Guardians evolved this relationship with time, enabling them to slow it. This supernatural skill was most evident when competing in the Dive or other events in the Guardian Games.
Try as he might, he could not locate any record of time for the most recent events. In fact, the only record he could find was that of the time passed since waking this morning. His memories of past events were still intact but there was no time stamp to chronicle its passing.
"I have no measure of past time either," Steffor finally replied
"What of the Source? Can you now take of the Source," Kilton inquired, doing little to hide his disquieted temperament.
"Yes." Steffor offered no elaboration. Words cannot describe the sensation of how the Source now pulses through my body. In response to the thought, his soul took a reflexive inhale of the Provider's energy. My pull on the Source remains beyond measure but now I have command over it. Somehow, it is contained.
"Where are the rest?" Steffor asked.
"After a quick consult with the other Teutons, it was agreed that the conclave should disband and send each Guardian back to their post with haste."
"Why the urgency?"
"The disturbance behind the events that just took place aside," he said, gesturing with his left hand toward both Steffor and Forging Tree, "it was our inability to connect with the Mysticnet that ultimately dictated the decision. We have no way of knowing what is happening with those we are charged to protect." In the background, Vejax, Grimlock and Martna, grumbled their affirmation on the decision.
I am no longer alone, Steffor thought, struck with sudden empathy for his fellow Citizens. Still, he sensed the event was a painful step in their collective growth that must occur if the Provider and its people were to evolve.
He moved toward the once center of the archway and his eyes came to rest on the source of reflected light, his Teuton Staff. The "staff" was no longer than his forearm. It rested upon a shifted corbel, sculpted into the form of two hands held palm up. Upon closer inspection, the sun's rays did not reflect off it so much as it appeared to absorb the light, then emanate it back out. Its polished luster made it difficult to identify any specific details. Colors swirled within, from burnt orange, to forest green, to jet-black. At one moment, it exhibited qualities of a tight-grained hardwood, at others it appeared more metallic, while at others like polished marble.
"Why did the four of you stay behind?" Steffor asked, breaking the silence that had seized the group upon his discovery of the staff.
"We were told to," replied Kilton.
"By whom?" Steffor asked, his eyes still locked on the staff.
“The Provider."
Steffor's understanding of the Provider as a ben
evolent energy that pulsed in every living organisms had expanded with recent events. What had changed was his view of the Provider as an actual being, similar to himself. A sentient creature cognizant of the universe and its laws, a soul cut from the same piece of fabric, aspiring to ascend to a higher consciousness.
"How did the Provider communicate to you?"
"The message came to us all at the same time, in the same way. It was at the moment when you released the Source back into the world."
"Into Tillamund," Vejax gravely added.
Steffor sensed the other four Guardians now standing next to Kilton, observing him, waiting in anticipation to see what he did next.
"Did he come to each of you with the same dream?"
"No," Grimlock replied. "It was an experience akin to the hallowed intersection before Armotto's Staircase. The message was the same for all of us: 'Steffor and I are one and the same. Protect and serve him as you would me.'"
The desire to connect with his staff grew. It beckoned him in a way that made him feel incomplete, aware of a hole in his heart that he only now discovered existed. The Provider recreates itself in me, in all of us, so that it may flourish. Our purpose is to grow, to relearn what it means to be part of the Provider. We are ready; the time has come to sacrifice what we are for what we could become. I see the possible succession of future events; how, as one, we can manifest our growth. I accept my role as the catalyst, and it starts here and now.
He hesitated one last time, turning around to address his companions. "I do not doubt your devout faith in the Provider. Nor could I have formed a better troop to aid me in the events yet to come. We will all be asked to make sacrifices, the impact of which may never be revealed to us in this lifetime. I ask each of you to look inside your heart and choose based on what you see there, not because the Provider or I command it."
Each received his statement with varying degrees of shock. Vejax shook his head in disgust and gave Kilton a look saying: I told you.
Kilton did nothing to discourage the look, the struggle with his own introspection plain to see on his face.
Grimlock was quick to move on, taking Steffor's request at face value, and began to meditate accordingly.
"Why do you ask this of us Steffor," Martna asked. "Is it not enough that the Provider commands us to do so? I do not see the need to choose for myself."
"Going forward, your faith in the Provider will be challenged in ways beyond your comprehension. There will not be time to meditate for answers, nor will your devout faith be enough. You must learn to trust your heart now if we expect to succeed in our mission. I can no longer accept your allegiance based only on your belief in the Provider. Your decision to do so must come from within."
"I will follow you Steffor and choose to do so free of any command beyond my own," Grimlock stated.
"I too choose to follow you based on what my heart tells me to be true," Kilton followed with fresh resolve.
Martna stood silently with her eyes shut in attempt to calm her mind.
Steffor turned to Vejax who met his eye with an anticipated glare. "I cannot embrace what you ask me to do. It is not possible for me to abandon my faith in something that has flawlessly served me in life. I choose to follow and protect you because I believe without question in what the Provider has told me: the two of you are one and the same."
Steffor studied his friend's stubborn face and grew satisfied with his reply. He chooses with his heart, he simply does not see it that way, not yet.
"I share master Vejax's view but cannot deny the presence of my soul and its own desires," Martna said with uncharacteristic feminine softness. "It tells me my role in the future is intertwined with all of you. That I must be bold and find the strength to do what must be done, no matter how much it may conflict with my beliefs. I will follow you Steffor, I choose do so on my own free will."
The love I feel for these four souls spans an eternity. Our bond emotes the supportive role of friend, sibling, spouse or parent over countless lifetimes. Each personality creating the balance and collective development required for all us to grow.
"Cheer up my friends!" Steffor said. "Let us embark on our new journey confident it will lead us toward ascension. Join me as I embrace the Provider's gift." He turned back around and waited a moment for them to gather behind him. Once assembled, Steffor denied the future no longer and grasped his staff.
Its weight was deceptive. Steffor turned the rod left to right, noting the odd resistance it produced, like pushing his hand against a strong current of water.
"The movement of its color has no relation to the direction you turn it or position you hold it," Grimlock astutely observed.
"What do you feel Steffor?" Kilton inquired in a captivated whisper.
"The endless power of the Provider…" Steffor's reply trailed off as the Source within him merged with the staff. He resisted the impulse to fight and allowed the vessel to probe his essence and connect with the raw power welled deep within his being. Similar to the day he first dawned his garments, he experienced the sensation of material and body merge as one. A second later Steffor managed to utter a startled "Oh!" before he lost complete control of every muscle in his body.
"Steffor?" Kilton said in response to his sudden outcry and rigid posture. He placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. The seasoned Teuton gasped in horror at the touch of Steffor's flesh. "His flesh is like stone," he said to the others.
Steffor felt each place a hand on his back to confirm and heard their similar astonished response to his condition, but remained frozen in place.
"He no longer breathes," Vejax noted with concern.
I can't breathe! Steffor panicked, becoming aware of his lungs dormant state for the first time. Do not place boundaries on your creation. The Provider's familiar voice enabled him to relax, letting the consciousness of his staff seep into every fiber of his being. Seconds later, their connection was complete.
Steffor regained control of his body and faced his companions. He gripped the staff in both hands and held it before them. Without warning, a blinding burst of light flashed, causing all to flinch and shut their eyes. Upon looking back, the staff had transformed into a geometrically perfect pole standing shoulder high.
A transparent beam of blue light shot from both ends of the staff before anyone could comment on its magical change. The beams of light connected in the middle and, with the staff acting as its base, formed an equilateral triangle. Created from the same blue light, positioned to the side of the point formed by the two beams of light, a three dimensional rendering of the Provider materialized.
"Do the rest of you see this?" Steffor asked, catching his breath.
Heads nodded but none said a word, each fascinated by the architectural hologram of their world projected before them. Seeing the schematic with both physical and inner eye, Steffor recognized the image as the Provider viewed from outer space, just outside the atmosphere. Steffor reached out with his mind and rotated the image than zoomed in and out to view locations along the planet with blazing speed.
I can see anywhere, any time by simply thinking it!
You can see and do more, the Provider added.
On cue, revealed with minute detail, Steffor viewed the Source flowing through the world. The allegoric tributaries, streams, rivers and shoreline witnessed in his previous meditative vision, replaced by a visible blue current of energy moving through every leaf and creature.
"Do you see the Source?" Steffor asked his friends.
"Yes." Kilton said in awe.
"I am going to attempt to rectify the recent dysfunction of the Mysticnet."
Instincts confirmed what Leonor had guessed, that the creation of his staff had disrupted the Mystics' ability to connect to both one another and Citizens alike. The condition is temporary, he speculated, it is just a matter of re-syncing them back into the proper modality.
If I assume the role of both Mystic and network, for just a few moments, the action
should put things back the way they were.
He turned to the staff, the tool enabling him to both visualize and complete the intricate procedure, imploring for both affirmation and direction. A prolific voice responded.
Yes, the actions you intend to take will reconnect Mystic-to-Mystic and consequently Mystic to Citizen. Yes, in order for our society to evolve, both Mysticnet and the database of history it procures must be reinstated. No, things will never be the same once you are done.
Steffor took a deep breath, closed his eyes, opened a conduit and entered the flow of Source. Complete immersion into the energy that formed all life was instant. He was no longer limited by flesh and bone, the only remnants of either now anchored to his staff. The unique signature of the life known as Steffor, uninhibited by the ego, explored the world. Sensing everything, everywhere, being all races while none at all, elated Steffor. He honed this macro existence to explore how each race of Citizen wielded the Source.
The Guardian, the existence closest to his soul in this lifetime, was the first race experienced from this perspective. Gifted athletes with immense strength, dexterity, intelligence and charisma, the race commanded intense power shifted from the Source housed deep within Belly Briar. The challenge that faced the Guardian did not come from his physical world, but the mental. Life as a Guardian was an incarnation wrought with the highest morale challenges a soul would ever face. The warrior race was yoked by the responsibility of always choosing the good of others over oneself.
The Shifter, the most common race of Citizen, was the next to register. They were the Provider's artists, architects, builders, farmers and skilled laborers. Shifters embodied the Source accessible within the fibers forming wood, bark and leaf. In one congruent wave, Steffor relived his past roles as a Shifter, reminding him that all life was meaningful, no matter how mundane it appeared.
The rare and delicate life of a Healer was the next race to experience, transitioning from the Provider's body to its spirit. The Provider's spirit was an aura surrounding both planet and its living organisms in a protective shroud. Tuned to this natural connection between Citizen and Source, the beloved race shifted the Provider’s spirit to mend broken bone and flesh, to nurture the health and growth of man, tree and all living creatures alike.
Last, moving from spirit to mind, he entered the Provider's hollowed core, the pipeline that fed the Source to all life. Here is where the Mystic shifts the Source to cultivate and maintain the telepathic network. The Mystic united the mind and spirit of all Citizens and in turn, the Provider. Steffor viewed this symbiotic relationship between Citizen and the Provider in a new light, recognizing the beautiful union as none other than the Deeds. How the collective experiences of all Citizens fostered the continual growth of the Provider.
The Deeds, to Steffor's relief, remained intact; records from the first day man shifted the Source and became Citizen up to his own recent experience in the Forging Ceremony. The flow of Source, in every measurable facet, was stronger than ever. With these potential factors removed, he concluded the issue must lay with one or more of the Mystics.
His objective close-at-hand, Steffor jumped from one Mystic to the other. He probed each communication hub for any flaws that would explain the network's recent failure. Region by region, from the cluster of Mystics residing in Razum, to the distant field Mystic living amongst the harvest Shifters, they all functioned flawlessly.
Tillamund! His removal must be accounted for. Tillamund now resides within my staff; therefore, I must restore the balance.
Steffor dove deep into the Forging Tree and blended his essence with the compounds of Tillamund, the Forging Tree and his Teuton Staff. Once done, he ignited the concoction and in doing so, forever transformed the Forging Tree into what Citizens would come to call the Mystic Tower.
When he returned, his companions were all staring up with mouths agape. He followed their gaze. Gone was the goliath tree with its layers of fractal limbs and dense canopy. In its place loomed a wooden monolith. It was a perfect cylinder, displaying the same fluid color and refraction traits of his staff. A smile creased his face as he admired his first creation.
"What have you done?" Vejax asked in a castigating whisper, his eyes still transfixed on the Mystic Tower.
"I have reestablished the Mysticnet."
Before anyone could comment further, a sudden influx of images and sounds blared from the repaired Mysticnet. "Grab hold of my staff," Steffor ordered. They did as he said without question. He then extended his power to each and leveraged the trinity of Mystic Tower, staff and Citizen to filter the stream of data into one, comprehendible message.
The map reappeared, now displaying the location of every Mystic, denoted as pulsing blue dots. Steffor navigated from one to the other, surveying the images of groggy faces and sightless eyes, each asking the same dumfounded questions.
"Is that you…what happened....the Deeds, they are still intact...what is happening!"
"What is that?" Grimlock asked, pointing at a chaotic commotion of Source located at Provider's center.
Steffor zoomed in for a closer inspection. The area in question was at a major fork in the main pipeline of Source, located near Razum City. There, inside the Trunk’s hollow core just above Razum, a brackish red blight with a virulent black core had formed. Like an invasive island constricting a river's flow, the contaminated knot of energy throbbed, expanding with every pulse. The menacing image instilled the Guardians with a foreign fear.
"It is an abomination," Kilton replied. "We cannot allow it to spread."
Driven by paternal impulse, Steffor locked onto every Mystic within range of the area. With a quick tweak of the mind, he morphed the perspectives of each Mystic to create one, omnipotent view. The customized venue centered them a mile out and above Razum City, providing the Guardians a rare look at the immense limb.
"Kilton, sync with Traiken and the other Guardians within the city and update them on this development. Once done, do the same for the rest." With a quick nod, his old friend closed his eyes and relayed the message.
"What do we search for?" Vejax asked, understanding Steffor's recent impulse but uncertain as to what to do next.
"Any outward anomaly or sign that could be connected to this phenomenon," Steffor said, disturbed by the frantic pitch of his voice.
Steffor scanned the city, starting with the long mesa range of humped steppes and plateaus descending from the Trunk to merge with the thick limb. He then searched the relatively level two hundred mile expanse of bough. Framed by the limb and an expanse of clear blue sky, the city sparkled like a colossal crystal as morning sunrays sliced through gaps between tubular shaped buildings.
Fractal by fractal, Steffor looked for anything out of the ordinary. Each organic building was a township, the nerve center for countless generations and extended families. The network of structures united an advanced society propagating peace and harmony. One by one, each building came up clear.
"Our brethren are updated and are prepared to act." Kilton reported.
His confidence refortified by the thought of an elite army ready and waiting to help, Steffor went back to what he had control and continued to soak in the City’s activity. As the waking consciousness of Citizens and Mystic began to re-sync, there was unrest, a natural response to losing the Mysticnet, but it was not a panic.
In fact, it appeared business as usual for the productive people, moving on from the unique event and resuming their day as usual. People hustled along the plethora of stairways and elevators. Large groups congregated and communed along catwalks, bridges, verandas and large decks. Trolley cars moved along the intricate network of vine cables spanning from one end of the city to the other, transporting goods and people.
"Look!" Martna shouted. Her terrified gaze locked onto the Trunk, at a spot several thousand feet above the mighty limb.
Steffor searched the gigantic wall of wood predominating over the city. His eyes then located the three, protrudin
g black spikes. He moved in for a closer look, a few hundred feet out, altering their perspective to become level with the phenomenon.
"Are they thorns?" Grimlock asked, puzzled.
Indeed, the spikes looked more like thorns at close range. Coated by a dull shellac, the eight-to-ten feet tall thorns spread ten-to-fifteen yards apart in a vertical line. The sun reflected off the sharp inside edge and hooked ends of the curved protrusions, making their mysterious appearance all the more ominous.
"They do not grow from the Trunk, instead they look to escape from it," Martna observed, noting the torn bits of bark edging each thorn.
"There is something very wrong here...." Kilton said. "We must get to the city, now!"
Steffor had formed the same conclusion, a twisted knot gripping his gut the moment they got a closer view of the strange growths. Before they could act, the thorns began to shiver and to their amazement, start to move downward in ragged, jerking motions. Then, a few yards below the originals, another set of thorns pierced the surface with violent force. Then another. And another.
Steffor heard the Provider scream in agony as the angry blades tore at its flesh from its insides, plowing down and across.
"Those are not thorns," Kilton said with desperation, "they are claws."
They continued to watch the scene unfold, stunned by the horrifying scene. Claws and the thick appendages from which they grew tore at the Provider from the inside. Their deepest fears could not imagine the horrid creature capable of such destruction.
Claws ripped with fury, creating a jagged rupture a half mile across, edged by dilapidated chunks of wood and bark. They gasped in horror as the Source, tainted a black crimson, oozed from the gaping wound. Abruptly, the chaos stopped as the claws retreated back into the dark chasm. The screams from thousands of terrified Citizens, previously drowned out by all the commotion, broke their trance.
"It’s as the legends foretold, a truth so outrageous and terrifying that we all welcomed its denial." Kilton said as he stared at the scene with an ashen face.
"What legend do you speak of? The Deeds have never foretold of anything like this-"
Vejax's accusation stopped short, cut off by a maligned sound emanating from deep within the newly formed chasm. A rumbling vibration more than sound, it swept over the Razum, causing it to violently quake and buildings to sway. The perverted dissonance grew louder as demonic hisses and savage clacks joined in its crescendo.
"Kilton speaks of a legend that precedes the Deeds," Steffor replied, his throat dry and raspy, sharing a knowing glance with Kilton. "Events that took place long ago that removed all mystery as to the origins of the Deagrons."
Before either could answer the confounded expressions, the noise paused. They reluctantly turned their attention back to the rupture in the Trunk. For what felt like an eternity, nothing happened. Then, like a warning beacon, the Mysticnet began to blink and become sporadic. The moment before losing the feed completely, a vile giant exploded from the Provider's gut with gruesome force.