Magus Reborn [Stubbing in Three Weeks]

378. Always a way out

Killian felt anger flare through him the moment Lord Arzan stood and left the camp.One second he had been right there in front of him, seated by the fire with the rest of them. The next, he was gone, already disappearing into the dark between the trees before Killian could call after him properly, let alone stop him.

Instinct made him rise at once.

He even took a step forward, ready to follow. The whole forest was full of dangerous spirits and whatever else that might be lurking in the earth plane’s shadows, and the natural light above had already begun to dim. Beneath the thick cover of branches, it felt almost like night. Letting Lord Arzan vanish alone into a place like that went against every instinct Killian had.

But after that first step, he stopped himself.

Lord Arzan was the strongest among them. If anyone here could handle what the forest might throw at him, it was him. More than that, Killian had already tried to reach him during the walk back. He had spoken, offered reassurance, tried to pull him out of his own thoughts, and it all fell on deaf ears. If he chased after him now, it would likely be no different.

Sometimes a man needed space to think alone.

Killian knew that well enough from his own life. In his early years as a Knight, there had been times he had done the same, especially after letters arrived from home, stirring things in him he could not settle while surrounded by others. In the end, he had always returned steadier than before.

Maybe Lord Arzan would too. At least, Killian hoped so. But the hope did nothing to drain the anger from him.

It remained restless in his mind, and before long it found a target.

Veridia sat there by the fire, drinking her soup as though nothing of consequence had just happened. As though she had not been the one to press the conversation until Lord Arzan walked out into the dark.

Killian turned toward her immediately. “Why did you do that?” he asked. “There was no need to force it. We don’t have to rush back home.”

Veridia looked up at him slowly. “Calm yourself, Knight,” she said. “You may be growing fond of this place, but the dangers here will catch up to us soon enough. And unless you have suddenly found a way into the spirit king’s castle, we are not going there anyway. I only hurried along what was always going to happen. All of you would have spent hours circling around the truth instead of saying it.”

Killian let out a slow breath. “We all took a bad blow today,” he said. “You could have given him a few hours before pressing him like that. I’m sure Lord Arzan would have thought of something.”

Veridia frowned at him over the rim of her bowl.

“Even if I respect him and the way he thinks, there is nothing he can do about the spirit king,” she said. “A few hours can change a great deal, especially in a place like this. At least now, when he comes back, he is more likely to accept reality and build the ritual to get us home.”

As she said that, her eyes shifted past Killian toward Elias and Elder Caelith.

“In the meantime,” she said, “I think the two of you should consider what resources we can take from this plane before we leave. I have no desire to return empty-handed when there is so much here worth claiming.”

That nearly started an argument all on its own.

Killian felt the anger in him flare again at once. Resources? That was what she was thinking about now? When they should have been still searching for some other path to an elder tree seed?

He was on the verge of answering when he felt a hand settle on his shoulder. He turned just enough to see Claire shaking her head behind him.

Killian closed his mouth and let out another breath instead. The anger in him did not disappear, but it loosened enough for him to hold it back. After a few moments, he reminded himself of something he already knew well enough: Veridia was here because of a mana oath. Whatever happened to the world beyond this plane, she did not seem the type to care much unless it affected her directly.

But before he could say anything else, Elias spoke.

“I don’t think we should go wandering around for resources,” he said. “It sounds nice in theory, but it could easily draw more spirits onto us. They’re probably still unsettled after what we did today.”

Elder Caelith gave a slow nod in agreement. “Yes. I think we should remain here for now. Let Lord Arzan return first. He will decide what comes next.”

Veridia frowned at their answers, but she did not argue further. She simply lifted the bowl again and drank from it, and before long the camp slid back into silence.

Killian moved away from her before sitting down again.

For a while he looked only at the ground near his boots, at roots and dirt and the dim glow of the firelight spreading over them. Then his eyes lifted toward the sky beyond the trees. There were no stars there. Only that strange, natural brightness filling the earth plane from some unseen source. Under different circumstances, he thought, it might have been beautiful in its own strange way. The sort of sight that would have settled his thoughts instead of stirring them.

Now it only made him uneasy.

He kept thinking of Lord Arzan alone in the forest. Perhaps if a few hours passed and he still had not returned, Killian should go after him after all. Elias would likely have some tracking spell that could help. The old Magus always seemed to have one more spell tucked away than anyone expected. But until then, there was nothing to do except wait.

Killian hated that.

A Knight was not meant to sit still when things had gone wrong. A Knight was meant to act. That was the point of the title, the training, the oath behind the blade. To move when movement was needed. To stand when standing was required. Not to sit by a fire and wait for answers to come on their own.

He had been too—

“May I sit here, Knight?”

The voice came from so close beside him that Killian shuddered.

Veridia had moved over without him properly noticing. He had sensed someone approaching, but his thoughts had been too tangled to pay attention, and now she stood there with her empty bowl in hand, looking down at him.

His expression sharpened immediately. “What do you want to ask now?” he said.

To his surprise, Veridia laughed. It was not a loud sound, but it was enough to make his irritation rise again.

“What are you laughing at?” Killian asked.

Veridia let out a small sigh and lowered herself to sit nearby. “Nothing,” she said. “It’s just strange.”

Her eyes drifted ahead for a moment.

“A few years ago—perhaps even a year ago—you would not have spoken to me like that. None of you would have.” Then she glanced back at him. “Things have changed quickly, first Sword of the King.”

Killian frowned at the tone in her voice. “They wouldn’t have,” he said, “if you had not done so much to earn otherwise.” Then his expression hardened further. “Just ask what you want to ask. I respected you once as a Magus, but that was before I saw your true face. I have no desire to speak with you any more than necessary.”

Veridia smiled at that, looking entirely unbothered. “I only want to know one thing,” she said. “Do you truly believe Arzan can find a way to get us to the Elder Tree seed?”

Killian’s frown deepened, but his answer came without hesitation. “Of course he can,” he said quietly. “Maybe not this very moment. Maybe not in a way any of us can see yet. But I believe Lord Arzan will find one.” His eyes stayed on hers. “He is the only one who can.”

For the first time since sitting down beside him, Veridia looked genuinely surprised. Her gaze moved over his face, as though trying to find some uncertainty there and failing.

“You didn’t even stop to think before answering,” she said. “Your faith in him runs too deep. Why?” Her head tilted slightly. “It cannot only be because he is your lord.”

Killian shook his head, already disliking where the conversation seemed to be going. “It is because of many things,” he said. “And I do not owe you an explanation for each of them. Just understand this—whatever decision Lord Arzan makes when he returns, it will not be careless. He will have thought it through.”

Veridia looked up for a moment, toward the strange light overhead where no sun or stars could be seen, then back at him.

“And if he comes back and says we must walk straight to the spirit king’s castle and die there for a chance at the seed,” she asked, “will you still tell yourself there is reason behind it?”

Killian let out a breath. “What sort of question is that?”

“Just answer it,” Veridia said. “Then I’ll leave you alone.”

Killian looked at her properly. For a moment, he did think it over, not because the answer was difficult, but because he knew exactly what she would make of it once he spoke.

In the end, there was only one answer he could give. “Yes,” he said. “I would believe in him.”

Veridia exhaled through her nose. “I thought you were less of an idiot than that.”

At that, Killian smiled.

“No,” he said. “I’m a great fool. But I still know where to place my bets.” His smile faded, leaving only certainty behind. “And believe me on this—if Lord Arzan says that is the only path to the Elder Tree seed, then he says it because it is the truth.”

***

Kai sat with his back against a tree and let the wind move over him, hoping it would cool the last of the heat in his thoughts.

When he had first left the camp, he had been full of anger and helplessness in equal measure. The whole situation had pressed on him so hard that staying there another moment had felt unbearable. But distance had a way of wearing sharp feelings down. By the time he had put enough ground between himself and the others, the anger had mostly faded. What remained was disappointment, and beneath it was regret.

Leaving like that had not been worthy of him.

The more he thought about it, the more it felt as though he had acted like a child throwing a tantrum because the world had refused to move the way he wanted. He knew that almost immediately. Even so, he had not turned back at once. Some time alone had felt necessary, if only to stop himself from returning with the same storm still churning inside him.

While moving through the forest, he had come across a small pond tucked between the roots of several enormous trees. The place had been quiet enough that he chose to stop there, and now he sat by the water’s edge, gazing at its surface as the strange natural light of the plane shimmered over it.

On the far side of the pond, a few spirits lingered.

They were smaller earth spirits for the most part, the kind that he didn't have to worry about. One looked almost like a squat deer carved from smooth stone, with crystal growths rising from its back like dull antlers. Another was little more than a bundle of roots and moss pulled into the rough shape of a crouching animal, its body shifting faintly whenever it moved. A third spirit stood half-submerged near the water, long-limbed, its skin the color of wet bark and its eyes glowing with a muted amber light. They had all stirred the moment Kai arrived. Some had lifted their heads. One had stepped back. For a few breaths, the whole clearing had felt ready to break into violence.

But when Kai did nothing except sit, they gradually calmed down.

That alone was a strange relief.

He had half-expected every spirit in the earth plane to lunge at him on sight. Instead, these ones had simply watched him for a while and then gone back to drinking from the pond or standing in the shallows without concern. It was a small thing, but it felt almost peaceful.

Under different circumstances, the place might have settled him completely.

The pond, the low sound of water, the hush of wind through the trees, the quiet presence of the spirits, all of it should have been enough to ease his mind further. In another mood, he might even have stayed there longer than he should, letting the stillness sink into him.

But the chaos at the center of his thoughts had not gone anywhere.

It remained beneath everything else, too tangled to quiet fully.

Kai lifted his head and looked beyond the pond, beyond the trees, to where he could still glimpse the spirit king’s castle through breaks in the canopy and the thick trunks around him. He could not see the whole of it from where he sat. Only pieces, but it was there.

And somewhere within it, several seeds of the elder trees waited.

That was what made it worse.

They were no longer some rumor hidden in the dark, no longer an answer he was still chasing. He knew where they were. He knew they existed. He knew they might save Sylvastra, and the whole world.

And he still could not take even one.

The whole thing felt cruel in a way he had no words for. As if he had climbed all the way to the threshold of the ninth circle only to find the final step forever beyond his reach.

If there was any real tragedy in the world, perhaps it was this. But what could he actually do here?

Kai wanted an answer badly enough that part of him kept reaching for one anyway, as if his mind might suddenly split the problem open and offer him a path he had somehow missed. But he knew better than that. The world had never worked so kindly for him. Anything worth having had always demanded effort, and anything truly important had demanded far more than effort alone.

In the past, when he had run into problems this deep, he had rarely faced them entirely alone.

There had always been someone he could go to. Most often his master. Even when the old man refused to hand over an answer directly, he had known how to press, how to provoke thought in the right direction, how to force Kai to reach the edge of understanding and then step over it himself. The answer had never come easily, but there had always been someone there to sharpen his mind.

Here, Kai had no one to consult. No one to turn to. No one to—

The thought broke off as something shifted in his mind.

It was not a solution, not even close, but it was enough to loosen something in his chest. If nothing else, it might give him the quiet he needed to think properly.

At once, mana gathered around him as he began shaping one spell structure, then another, the patterns forming cleanly and quickly beneath his will. The first spread outward into a defensive barrier, a pale shimmer settling around him in a smooth curve that pressed itself close to the tree and the patch of ground where he sat. The second layered over it more carefully—an alarm formation threaded through the first like a web of nearly invisible lines, fine enough that even the slightest intrusion would send warning back to him. After that came the concealment spell. That one he built with more care, drawing it down over the others until the air around him seemed to blur and settle, bending light and presence just enough to make the space feel empty to casual notice.

Only after the last thread of mana fell into place did he breathe out. If anything came close, he would know. If anything struck, he would wake.

For now, that was enough.

Kai adjusted his breathing and closed his eyes. Calming himself was slower work.

His thoughts still caught on the same bitter places they had been scraping against since he left the camp, and more than once he felt his focus slip before it could settle. But he kept at it, breath after breath, letting the noise inside him wear itself down little by little until his awareness finally loosened from the forest around him and sank inward.

Then the shift came.

When Kai opened his eyes again, he was standing in his astral space, inside the library his master had left him.

It always felt, in some small impossible way, like returning home.

Something in the air of the place touched him differently from the world outside. It was not only the stillness, nor the familiar order of shelves and tables and books waiting where they had always been. It was something harder to name. A quiet that reached him before thought did. A feeling of being somewhere he did not have to defend himself every second he existed. Even knowing that much of it was illusion had never lessened what it did to him.

Kai moved deeper into the library at an unhurried pace.

He passed the tables and went to the shelves without any clear title in mind, his hand drifting across spines until he began pulling books free almost at random. One became three, then five, then more, until he had gathered a small stack in his arms. He carried them back to the desk, set them down, and opened the first.

It was a book on fire spells.

Not an advanced one either. An introductory text, the sort Kai would once have glanced through quickly and left behind without much care. Under normal circumstances, there was little in it he actually needed.

But he kept reading anyway—because of the notes.

His master’s handwriting appeared in the margins, familiar and impossible to mistake. A line undercut with criticism. A section marked useful. A short piece of advice added where the original author had left something incomplete. The old man had done this in nearly every book worth keeping his attention on, not for himself, but for Kai. Even now, it felt less like reading a text and more like listening to a voice he already knew too well.

That was what steadied him—the notes.

They brought back another version of his life, one that seemed simpler now than it ever had while he was living it. There had been days when he could disappear into this library and let everything else fall away, leaving only shelves, books, and the sharp edge of his master’s opinions waiting between the lines. Even when the man himself had not been there, the notes had made the place feel occupied.

So Kai kept turning pages.

One book led to another without hurry. He read less for information than for the scattered traces of thought left in the margins, taking them in as though a conversation had been paused there long ago and was only now being resumed. Slowly, almost without his noticing, the turmoil inside him began to loosen. Not all at once. The storm did not break and vanish. But it thinned.

The pressure behind his thoughts eased. What had been knotted and restless when he entered the astral space slowly gave way beneath the soft repetition of pages turning and familiar words meeting his eyes.

When the first stack ran out, he rose almost absently and gathered more.

Those books carried the same comfort in different forms. A harsh correction here. A dry remark there. Once in a while, a line of praise so rare it struck harder than any criticism. And with each one came some memory tugged loose from where it had been sitting untouched—another long afternoon at a table, another argument over spell structures, another moment in which the world had seemed difficult, but still nice.

By the time Kai looked up again, he realized his breathing had changed.

The weight on his mind was still there, but it no longer pressed on him like a hand around the throat. It had become something he could hold and examine rather than something he was drowning in.

For the first time since leaving the camp, he found he could turn the problem of the elder tree seeds over properly, without anger blinding him, and ask whether there might still be a path through it after all.

Even then, he never would have guessed that one of his master’s notes would hold the answer he needed.

***

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