Wraithwood Botanist

B2 | Chapter 96 - Soul Guardian

Congratulations! Scion Mira Hill has met the conditions to be promoted from Level 32 to Level 33. You’ve leveled up!

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Description: In case you thought I ignored your actions prior to the Harvest—I haven’t. The Oracle’s been grumpy that her attempts to witness these alleged deeds have been blocked by magic, so she has held off on making judgments, instead categorizing everything into a single concept: the promise of guardianship.

From brokering deals with guardians, guards, and Drokai to conquering crypts and obtaining sketchy, unknown seeds in the Bramble, you have, somehow—by virtue of the simple fact that everyone around you says so—earned the respect of the forest. This is a first since the standardization of Oracle chips and perhaps since the days of Brindle and Yakana.

Congratulations.

-

"Wow... that’s satisfying," I said. "It’s also... strange. I wonder how much it’s seen..."

My conversations with Brindle were encrypted by virtue of patron god privilege, and the voices of Yakana and Emael occurred within my subconscious, where the Oracle couldn’t record them. And Serenflora, the crypt, Brindle’s soul garden, and The Briar were all cloaked in anti-guide magic.

That meant that the Oracle was indeed blind. Most of what happened was alleged through afterthoughts and conversations with Kyro, Thorvel, Aiden, and Halten when spoken aloud. It was kinda relieving to read that.

I wonder if Lithco had to argue my case to the Oracle... I thought.

"I did."

I jumped when Lithco melted through the tree’s walls like a ghost, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

"Who welcomed you into my home?" I cried.

"Seriously?" Lithco asked. "Seconds from singing my praises, now banishing me like a Hollywood vampire? You’d benefit from some consistency, you know that?"

My cheek twitched. "Why can’t you let me appreciate you in silence?"

"Because people thrive on praise."

"You can hear my thoughts."

"When you share them. And it’s not the same thing."

My shoulders slumped.

"I’m waiting," Lithco said, turning his palms up.

"Thank~you," I sassed. Then I paused and looked away. "Seriously, thank you."

"Was it really that hard?"

"You’re sounding like Hadrian."

"You asked me to be like this; it seems that you have a thing for it."

I blushed furiously and looked away. "Say that again, and I’ll never let you hear a thought I say again."

"Just an observation." He then smiled at me mysteriously.

"What?" I asked hotly.

"Well? I had a pretty little present delivered. Don’t you want to open it?"

I hesitantly nodded. "Okay." I poured some cores into a bowl of water.

"Save ten," Lithco said. "You’ll want them for soul elixirs later on."

I held back, filling the bowl with about forty, then set up my ward, preparing for a long grind. Once finished, I followed his steps to create the soul well, an intense undertaking. There were forty cores, and I ended up grinding for six hours before falling unconscious, and then waking up for another twelve-hour shift. This continued on for three days and nights until I finished on the fourth, shivering from the chilling wind as I resolved myself to begin.

The soul well was intimidating when it was all said and done. It glowed bright white under my Soul Sight, and it created a suffocating pressure in the room that routinely freckled my arms with goosebumps.

"Rest up," Lithco said. "This will be the most challenging experience of your life."

I heeded his warning and slept, preparing myself for pain and suffering as I drifted to sleep.

The next morning I skipped breakfast, cleansing my body with Diktyo water and meditating. Then I summoned Lithco before my witches brew of blended soul aura.

"Take the lead," I said.

2.

To Elana’s ever-increasing annoyance, Kori kicked up his feet on Elana’s table and pulled out a different flavor of poison he bought off Hapsel, who was increasingly bitter and thus increasing the potency. Still, she kept inviting the half-demon to every major event for reasons that she still struggled to admit to herself.

"This’ll be good," Kori said as Mira began threading upon Lithco’s suggestions. "Ten to one she doesn’t follow instructions."

"Oh, she’ll follow instructions," Elana said. "The question is: whose instructions?"

"You think Yakana will come out?"

"Doubt it."

"Then who?"

"Brindle."

He turned to her. "How does that make sense? Brindle hasn’t made contact with her since his decision, right?"

"Correct. But don’t forget what he sent her. It’s an entity capable of capturing memories and thinking independently. Gods know what that thing loaded into her guardian."

"Wait... you’re saying..."

Mira’s body suddenly glowed with bright white light, and Lithco began yelling and snapping his fingers in front of her before telling Kline to back off.

"Told you," Elana said.

"Huh..." Kori popped the cork of the poison bottle. "This’ll be interesting."

3.

Something went wrong when I summoned my guardian. I had followed his chants and watched, through Soul Vision beyond my eyelids, as a faceless mannequin snaked out of the ring like a cobra from a basket.

It was terrifying thinking that I would be assimilating with that soulless puppet, the literal makings of a horror movie. Yet I was compelled to continue, so I extracted her further and opened up my core to accept her, but then I lost control of her and she walked up alone, grabbed my shoulders with icy hands, and then put her forehead against mine.

Before I could scream, my whole vision went white, and when color and shadows returned to the world, I found myself in the most beautiful forest I had ever seen.

Or perhaps it was a garden.

There were white trees with pink leaves and vines that wrapped around trees like anacondas, blooming flowers like morning glories in a dozen colors per vine, like serpentine rainbows.

That was just one sight. There were plants of every shape, color, and description, wondrous and alien, even by Areswood standards. Even the grass was fantastic. It felt holographic, turning gradients of green and orange as a light breeze combed through it.

It was the Christian’s Garden of Eden—the Elysian Fields of ancient Greece.

"Welcome to the Ethereal Gardens," Brindle said. I whirled around and found him sitting on a throne of roots. He was still wearing his normal cloak, but his antlers felt regal, like a crown, and the dryad wrapped around his body from the tree made him look like a man. "This is my home."