15-43. The Mycelial Crown

“Are you certain?” asked Baryx. “Do you even know what it is?”

Elijah could scarcely take his eyes off the jar. It radiated such familiar energy that he knew he didn’t really have a choice in the matter. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to take that jar and run away, consequences be damned. Still, closing his eyes and taking a long, deep breath, he pummeled his instincts with logic. By the time he opened his eyes, his analytical side had regained control.

“I think you’d better tell me what it is and how it works,” Elijah said.

Baryx started by saying, “The Mycelial Crown should not be here.”

“Why not?” Elijah asked.

“Two reasons,” the ghost answered. “First, it is far too powerful to be relegated to the Fourth Treasury. The spores in that jar come from the trunk of the World Tree itself. The fungi in question – called mycorr supremum – forms a symbiotic relationship with the World Tree, and some people believe that unique synergy is responsible for its ascension beyond transcendence.”

“That all sounds amazing,” Elijah said. “What’s the catch?”

“It is useless.”

“Huh?”

“The symbiosis is a requirement for its survival,” Baryx stated. “Without the World Tree, it will quickly wither away into nothing. Some transcendent Brewers once attempted to use it in mead, but the results were less than enthralling. Its uselessness is why it is here instead of the Second Treasury, where its power dictates that it belongs.”

“That settles it, then.”

“Yes, I predicted it would. Now, we can move on to the –”

“No – you don’t understand,” Elijah said. “I’m definitely taking it. I would fight the entire empire to get my hands on that jar.”

“You…you would? But it’s useless.”

“Not to me.”

“To everyone. Druids much more powerful than you have studied it,” said Baryx. “The World Tree requirement is just that – a necessity. Without it, the –”

“Can you keep a secret, Baryx?” Elijah interrupted.

“What? Of course. I am bound to confidentiality. What any petitioner does or says in here will remain between us.”

“Really?” Elijah asked. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Most petitioners ask for my assistance. To properly give that, I must know the state of their power. That includes any equipment, their levels, and their cultivation. For a full accounting, I also require a list of their abilities,” he explained. “Needless to say, most would never agree to give that information. Therefore, the confidentiality dictate exists. On pain of nonexistence, I may not reveal any petitioner’s secrets.”

“Oh. Cool. I would’ve settled for a pinky promise, but okay.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Never mind that. Just Earth nonsense.”

“I see.”

“Anyway, my big reveal is that I might just have a baby World Tree on my hands,” Elijah said without fanfare or further preamble.

The ghost stepped back, which was quite a thing considering that he’d been floating a couple of inches off the ground. “W-what?”

“Okay, so I don’t want you to misunderstand. I’m not entirely certain if Treebie is a juvenile World Tree, but I think he is. And I think that his jar of spores might just give him the kick in the pants he needs to become something closer to the real thing,” Elijah revealed.

“You must tell me more,” Baryx stated.

“Treebie started from an ancestral tree seed that came from the one at the center of my grove,” Elijah explained. “That makes it special, but not super special, right? I’ve planted lots of those. But what really set my boy apart was when I had him absorb a sliver from the Branch of the World Tree.”

“How?”

“I kind of just shoved in there. Metaphorically, metaphysically, and literally.”

“No. How did you acquire a splinter from a Branch?” Baryx asked.

Elijah sighed. “I guess I’m going to have to start from the beginning, here,” he conceded. “First question – have you ever been the abyss?”

“Of course.”

“Well, so have I. But I arrived when I was only an ascendent,” Elijah recounted. “I fell through a portal in a Primal Realm and ended up on an excised planet called Gorveth.”

“That shouldn’t be possible. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless the Primal Realm was uniquely powerful. Was it?” he asked.

“First clear on a newly integrated planet,” Elijah answered. “It was also dedicated to the djinn, and the big boss was really liberal with how he manipulated space and time. He’d also opened a portal to the abyss, from which he siphoned power to fuel…something. I can’t remember. The point is that I think the whole thing kind of came together to create a somewhat unique situation. Thus, portal to the real abyss.

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“My buddy said that Primal Realms are already abyssal tears into our dimension, so that probably contributed as well,” Elijah finished. “Does that make any sense to you?”

“Some,” allowed Baryx. “Theoretically, it would all work. But the power requirements…”

“I also get the feeling that there’s something different about Earth. Maybe it’s because of me, but that kind of feels presumptuous on my part. Still, I’m a Druid, and I know for a fact that my grove influences the ambient ethera,” Elijah allowed. “So, who am I to say that I didn’t affect it? Regardless, our Primal Realms always felt a little stronger than they should’ve been. They were also linked to the elder races, with one of them even being dedicated to a shattered planet that the Primal Realm scenario presented as the original planet of dragons.”

“That is odd,” Baryx agreed. “Most Primal Realms are tied to elder races, but not so strongly as that suggests.”

“Figured as much.”

“Perhaps what you say is possible. I will allow that you were thrown from a Primal Realm into the abyss. What happened then? How did you survive as a mere ascendent?” he asked.

From there, Elijah recounted the story of his struggle to survive on Gorveth. Using his Mantle of Authority, then upgrading the tent were the highlights, but he also mentioned protecting Benedict.

“I hope he’s still alive. He should be, but…well, nowhere is really safe,” Elijah allowed.

“Indeed. Go on.”

Next, Elijah described how he discovered Dravkein and found survivors. Baryx found that particularly interesting, remarking that most worlds manage to survive for a few decades after excisement. “But few make it long enough for new generations to flourish,” he said.

“They weren’t flourishing,” Elijah corrected. “Surviving. Everyone there was corrupted, at least to some extent. But it wasn’t as bad as Ithalon.”

Over the next few minutes, Elijah told the story of how he’d infiltrated that decrepit city, only to find that, despite its façade, it was even more infected than Dravkein. “It was dying, and the Synod – the people in charge – weren’t helping. So, I decided to visit their Branch. It was corrupted too. But with my mantle, I managed to drive back that corruption. I cleansed a single limb. It broke free, and I took it, escaping the city.”

Of course, the story didn’t end there. He went on to talk about how he found Cyst and used it to empower his cultivation. From that he came upon the cleansing of Druhmor.

“Then, I started terraforming. I don’t really know what prompted it. I just wanted to change something. To make it better,” Elijah revealed. “And I did. I bumbled my way through the first stages, but I got better at it as I went along. Years passed, and eventually, I planted the seed that would become Treebie. I nurtured him like he was my own child, using my soul to commune with him and teach him how to grow. But everything changed when he merged with that shard from the Branch. That was when the World Tree connected and declared it a nascent Branch. I think that when the true connection completes, something special will happen. By that time, I want to have incorporated the spores in that jar into Treebie’s development.”

“I see.”

“That’s it?” Elijah asked, surprised.

“It is an interesting story, and all but unique as well,” Baryx acknowledged. “Impressive at any stage, much less as an ascendent.”

“I was a demigod by the time I left.”

“An impossible feat. Your Legacy must be quite intimidating,” Baryx stated. “May I ask – what is the name of your class?”

“Emerald Archon.”

Baryx paled – quite a feat for a ghost.

“What?” Elijah asked.

“That is a powerful class.”

“I’m aware,” Elijah responded. “Primeval-grade. I had an Eldritch option, but it didn’t suit me.”

“At demigod.”

“Yeah.”

“Unprecedented. Would you be embarrassed if I called you a genius?” Baryx asked. “It is no wonder you were given this reward. How did you earn it?”

Elijah massaged the back of his neck. “I won the Tournament of the First Fang.”

“Of course. I should have guessed it was time for that. But the years, they tend to blur.”

Elijah nodded, but he didn’t know what to say. He’d experienced something similar when he was stranded on Gorveth – especially his time spent on Druhmor, where the passage of most days was only marked by his constant toil. At the time he’d likened it to getting in the zone – or a flow state – but in reality, it was a defense mechanism so he didn’t go entirely insane.

Baryx didn’t even have that, as far as Elijah understood. And he’d been living in relative isolation for longer than Elijah could imagine.

“So? What do you think? Good choice?” he asked in an attempt to change the subject. Being around Baryx brought out some uncomfortable truths, chiefly that one day, Elijah might look at the passing years as mere instants. Hopefully, he would have people around him to break that spell.

Baryx frowned. “I cannot in good conscience tell you to take the Mycelial Crown. Mycorr supremum has never survived away from the World Tree,” he stated, his voice flat. “However, I cannot tell you not to take it, either. Your situation is unique. You have shown resilience, cunning, and uncommon resourcefulness. If anyone can make use of this treasure, it is you. Though the chances that you will do so remain slim.”

“Not exactly a ringing endorsement,” Elijah acknowledged.

“It is not.”

Elijah glanced back at the jar, which was made of some clay-like material and inscribed with thousands of tiny runes. From afar, they were nearly imperceptible, but now that he’d gotten closer, he couldn’t miss them.

He said, “It would be smarter to take the ring.”

“Yes.”

“But it’s not the right choice,” Elijah declared. “I will stick by my initial impulse. My instincts aren’t always right, but I don’t think it would be smart to ignore them in this case.”

His reasoning was simple enough. The Mycelial Crown was as close to a priceless treasure as he was going to find. All but unique, in fact. And what’s more, it called to him in a way that few things ever did. It was like listening to nature’s call, though through an odd filter.

Ignoring that would be like cutting off a part of himself. He could do it, but only with good reason. What’s more, the Mycelial Crown offered something he could never get anywhere else – the chance to help Treebie.

And for all that he was a tree, Treebie was very much like his child. What would a man do for his son? In Elijah’s case, the answer was a resounding declaration that he would do anything in his power. That obviously included taking the Mycelial Crown as his first reward for winning the Tournament of the First Fang.

In a way, it made sense. The jar of spores for Treebie. The First Fang for Elijah.

“Are you certain?” asked Baryx.

“I am,” Elijah answered, and with a conviction that left no room for doubt.

“Then, with my blessing as the Custodian of the Fourth Treasury, take your reward, dragon,” Baryx declared. A ripple flowed outward from the ghost, as powerful as any that came from Mano. Gentler, though. Almost comforting, where Mano’s aura was filled with intimidation, superiority, and dominance.

Elijah took a step forward and grabbed the jar. The surface was warm to the touch, though not uncomfortably so. The token he’d carried since his arrival disintegrated, and Baryx said, “Your reward has been claimed. Go now and use it to bring glory to your name, your clan, and to the Empire of Scale.”

Elijah put the jar into his Arcane Loop.

Then, he turned to Baryx. “Thank you.”

“I merely do my duty.”

“Doesn’t negate my gratitude,” Elijah persisted. “Is it possible that I could visit sometime? Not to get a reward or anything. Just to talk.”

“That…that would be nice. I shall make arrangements,” Baryx said.

With that, the ghost led Elijah to the exit. Leaving Baryx behind came with a sense of melancholy he couldn’t really describe. Not like parting with a friend. Lighter, but no less profound for it. Like seeing a sunset and knowing you would never see exactly the same thing again.

Upon rejoining the others, Elijah greeted Mano, who asked, “What did you choose?”

“Not seeds, but close.”

“What?”

“Think of them like fungus seeds. Spores.”

Mano just looked at him like he’d gone insane.