Touch of Destiny
Table of Contents
Prologue The Boy What Makes a Friend? Into the Calm The Tribunal Favor Worthy and Willing The Perfect Shape A Day at the River Finding Humor One Year Later Heart of Gumber Gentle Warning Answers Secret Errand Sacrificial Promise Winter Feast Blood and Snow Metal and Magic Solstice Moon Invitation Pieces of the Past The Raven's Perch Growing Spark Rude Awakening House Arrest Confrontation High Tide Caged Justified The Elder Tree The Raven's Den King's Call No Barrier Can Hold EpilogueSecret Errand
22 May
Toward the western edge of Gumber, she came to a place where the grass was crunchy and brown beneath her steps. She didn't like this part of the wood; it emitted a deathly aura. Closer to Lothira's dwelling the forest was plentiful and scenic, but here the only plant that gave off beauty was a pink flower— a twin flower, if she were identifying it correctly. As its name suggested, the twin flower blossomed in pairs, and its twin hung shriveled from the stem. She bent down to get a closer glimpse, brushing the wilted petals.
Poor little flower, she thought, your other half is quite a beauty. It made no sense, but she had not traveled here to question plants.
Before her, a circle of jutting, sharp stones sat amongst a wide clearing of trees. The rocks were not a natural occurrence of this place, rather, they served as a sort of door; a portal that transported one to other parts of the wood. There were several Druidic portals dotted throughout the wood, and this was the furthest one she knew of. A place of true secrecy.
She felt nervous while approaching the circle, but she needed answers, even if it meant asking someone she didn't necessarily like or trust.
Her hands came up to one of the jutting rocks, the runes etched upon it lit up. Within moments, a man's figure materialized within the center. In a word, he was cunning. His face was thin and wisened by immortal age, his lanky frame was wrapped in robes sewn from skins and fabric. His hair was long and pale to match his milky eyes. The Druid had two withered antlers and a voice just as ragged. Girithane stepped forward, grasping a staff made from a twisted old branch and topped with a raven's skull.
"What do you want, Sorceress?"
She swallowed while offering the vial of blood. "I want you to glean whatever properties you can from this," she said. "I've tried to test it myself, but I fear I don't have the appropriate knowledge."
"It is knowledge you seek?" The Druid's eyes met her, read her unblocked thoughts. "What knowledge do you offer me in exchange?"
"I offer you this," she said, retrieving the glass bottle from her pocket and unstopping it. A tiny bulb of light drifted out and faded into Girithane's temple. He closed his eyes, seeing the memory in his own mind. Glimpses of shadow and dark smoke; a soul existing outside of its corporal host.
"This piece of knowledge is most intriguing," he said. "A fascinating specimen you found. Where? How...?"
"If you can unlock the mysteries of his blood, you will find your answer."
Girithane practically snatched the vial from her hands and let it vaporize into his possession. Then he nodded in a sort of cold gratitude.
"As you ask, I shall learn what I can."
The Sorceress returned his bow, bending slightly at the waist. "Thank you, Girithane. I was hoping you could send your findings to me by letter?" She bit her bottom lip. "I've been summoned back to Tyron, but I will wait for you to send your answers to me. However long it might take."
"There is not a creature like this in any of my research. This human…it is mortal?"
"Yes."
"This may take cycles to understand.”
“I know there are some beings that can be both living and shadow. I think they’re called seethers.”
"No..." Grithane's eyes sparked with insight. "Seethers are not living. They slip between seams of the material and immaterial. But this…this is a young man.”
She ached to learn more but decided better of it. The longer she talked to Girithane, the more likely she would follow him to his den. She had never seen the place for herself but had heard it was a macabre dwelling, a place filled with the remnants of his experiments.
"I should get going," she said, picking up the hem of her long blue cape. "Thank you, Girithane."
Turning, the Druid stepped back into his portal and said, "A word to the wise, child, one must not be attached to their specimens."
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