The world dissolved around Leonotis, the dusty track and the scent of pine replaced by a swirling mist the color of bruised twilight. Then, with a sudden, jarring clarity, the scene bloomed around him. He stood in a glade bathed in an ethereal, moon-like glow, though no moon or stars were visible in the velvet sky above. Ancient trees, their bark etched with glowing green symbols he didn't recognize, formed a silent, watchful circle around him.
And then he saw her.
She stood near the base of the largest tree, a figure both fragile and fiercely radiant. Her hair cascaded down her back like woven moonlight, interspersed with living leaves of shimmering, impossible green. Her eyes, large and luminous, held the deep, vital color of a forest after a spring rain, and they were fixed on him with an intensity that made his heart pound against his ribs. She wore a gown of woven vines and blossoms, and a soft, gentle light seemed to emanate from her very being.
Her lips moved, and though no sound reached his ears, the words resonated directly within his mind, clear, urgent, and filled with a profound sorrow.
"Time... short," she continued, her brow furrowed with a palpable distress. "...control... save her..."
The urgency in her voice intensified, and a knot of anxiety tightened in his chest. He wanted to speak, to ask questions but the vision began to waver. The luminous glow flickered, the ancient trees seemed to sway and dissolve like smoke, and the woman's form grew indistinct.
"Remember," her voice echoed, fading like the whisper of wind through distant leaves, "Aetherium… Genesis… save her…"
Then, darkness.
Leonotis jolted awake, his heart hammering against his ribs. The familiar rough canvas of his bedroll and the soft, rhythmic snores of Low nearby grounded him in the chilly reality of their makeshift shelter. The sun, now a hazy orange as dawn approached, filtered through the trees. He sat up, his brow damp with a cold sweat.
"Just a dream," he murmured, his own voice sounding distant as he tried to shake off the lingering, haunting vividness of the encounter. The woman's image, her luminous green eyes and desperate plea, remained in his mind with painful clarity. He told himself it was just the fatigue of the journey, the strange tales they'd heard around campfires seeping into his subconscious.
Yet, a seed of profound unease had been planted. The name she had spoken, Aetherium Genesis was now etched in his mind. The intensity of her plea, the overwhelming feeling that the fate of someone vital rested on his actions… it felt like much more than just a fleeting, meaningless nightmare.
As the others began to stir, Leonotis tried to push the dream aside, focusing on the immediate, gnawing problem of their empty stomachs. His thoughts drifted to the vegetable seeds they had got recently. He placed a few in the ground and put his root-sword into the ground. stalks of corn, yams, tomatoes and other veggies sprouted. Leonotis grinned as a bead of sweat rolled down his forhead. He wiped it off. "This would be good for a while," he said. But now it was time for something sweeter.
He retrieved a few wrinkled, saved apple seeds from his pouch. He carefully placed them in a patch of soft earth, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. He closed his eyes, vividly imagining a mature apple tree, its branches laden with ripe, ruby-red fruit. Then, with a grunt of effort, he plunged the tip of his root-sword into the spot where the seeds lay buried.
The earth trembled slightly, and with a visible rush of verdant energy that made the air hum, a sapling erupted from the ground. It grew with breathtaking speed, leaves unfurling and branches extending until it stood nearly ten feet tall, its boughs heavy with glistening, perfect apples that seemed to glow from within. Leonotis stared in awe at his handiwork, a surge of pride swelling in his chest. But the feeling was fleeting, quickly replaced by a wave of unexpected weakness that washed over him, making him sway on his feet. A cold sweat slicked his skin, and his limbs felt heavy as lead. Conjuring this fully grown, fruit-bearing tree had clearly demanded a far greater expenditure of his ase than the simple other vegetables he had commanded.
Low, Jacqueline, and Zombiel gazed up at the newly made apple tree, its branches laden with fruit that glowed with a soft, inner light. Intrigued by the magical display, Low plucked a ruby-red apple and, after a brief, suspicious sniff, took a tentative bite. Her eyes widened in genuine surprise. "By the Orisha," she exclaimed, her mouth full, "this is sweeter than honey!"
Soon, all three were happily munching on the delicious, life-infused fruit. Jacqueline, however, noticed the slight tremor in Leonotis's hands as he reached for his third apple. "Easy there," she cautioned, her eyes sharp with a gentle concern. "Remember, magic, even life-giving magic, draws from your own wellspring. Restraint is the truest mark of a skilled wielder."
Leonotis nodded sheepishly. He knew Jacqueline spoke from experience; her precise control over the volatile element of water was something he deeply admired. Satisfied with their unexpected feast, they packed their meager belongings, a renewed energy bubbling within them. The taste of the enchanted apples and the thought that their destination was drawing closer had lifted their spirits. Ọ̀yọ́-Ìlú, the magnificent Capital, was almost within their grasp.
They rounded a bend in the trail when Leonotis stopped abruptly, his bright green eyes widening. Planted firmly in the middle of the path, looking strangely new against the ancient trees, was a weathered wooden signpost. One arm pointed back the way they'd come, the faded lettering barely legible. The other arm, however, was starkly clear, the freshly painted words a crisp, unsettling black: "Aetherium Genesis Institute – Official Kingdom Business Only. Proceed with Caution."
Low groaned, the sound rumbling deep in her chest. "An institute? What in the blazes is an institute doing out here in the middle of nowhere? Let's just keep going. Ọ̀yọ́-Ìlú can't be more than a few more days' travel."
Jacqueline frowned, her gaze fixed on the ominous warning beneath the institute's name. "It does seem rather… out of place. And 'proceed with caution' is hardly an invitation. The capital is our goal. We shouldn't get sidetracked by forgotten kingdom outposts."
Zombiel tilted his head, his eyes flickering with a hint of the salamander's inherent curiosity as he stared at the sign. "Funny name. Genesis. Like something gets born there. Or made.?" he offered.
Leonotis, despite having consciously dismissed his strange dream that very morning, felt a powerful prickle of recognition, a faint, undeniable echo of the mysterious woman's urgent plea. He tried to ignore it, to tell himself it was just a bizarre coincidence. Yet, the pull was undeniable, a strange current tugging him off their intended course.
Leonotis forced a laugh that didn't land. "Maybe it's worth a quick stop. If someone there has a carraige we could ask for a ride, we'd save trouble down the road. It could actually be a shortcut! Or, you know, maybe they have interesting plants there! Botanical studies and all that. We could learn something new before we reach the old Capital."
Low snorted, planting her hands on her hips. "A shortcut to what? Trouble, most likely. I'm done with creepy villages, forests and graveyards Leonotis. I want to see a city. I want to see crowds, and markets, and eat something that wasn't grown by magic five minutes ago. I doubt some secret backwater institute has anything Ọ̀yọ́-Ìlú's grand libraries won't."
"Besides," Jacqueline added, her arms crossed, her expression logical and firm, "we are on something resembling a schedule. We need to find your guardians in the Capital so we can ascertain if they can assist in my journey south. A detour of this nature is inefficient and, judging by the warning, needlessly dangerous."
Leonotis's brow furrowed slightly. The image of the woman's pleading face, the raw pain in her voice, flashed in his mind. He pushed it away, focusing on a more logical-sounding argument, his desperation making his voice tight. "But think about it! An official institute… they have to have supplies we need for the journey! Real food, maybe better maps. I can't keep making apple trees every morning; it takes too much out of me. It wouldn't hurt just to take a quick look, would it? For supplies!" He tried to sound casual, but the underlying urgency in his voice was unmistakable.
Low shifted her weight, her gaze flicking nervously from the ominous sign back to Leonotis's strangely intense face. "A 'quick look' can turn into a day lost in some dusty old building, or worse, a cell. I want to move forward, not sideways."
Jacqueline sighed, rubbing her temples. She looked at Leonotis, her analytical gaze softening as she saw not just stubbornness, but a deep, almost pained conviction in his eyes. "He has a point, Low. But Leonotis… are you truly sure about this? You seemed so set on reaching Ọ̀yọ́-Ìlú just this morning."
Leonotis hesitated, the weight of the dream battling with his desire to appear sensible and logical. He couldn't tell them the truth; they'd think he was crazy. "I am! The Capital is the most important thing," he insisted, then took a breath. "But… something about this just… feels important. Like we're meant to see what's down this path. Please? Just a quick look. For supplies… and maybe a ride?"
He avoided their gazes, a strange, unfamiliar compulsion guiding his words. The weathered sign, seemingly innocuous, had somehow become a beacon, pulling him inexorably away from their intended path. The seed of the dream, though consciously dismissed, had begun to sprout.
The Aetherium Genesis Institute loomed before them, a stark, tower of pale, windowless stone that seemed to absorb the very light and sound around it. It was a scar on the landscape, utterly devoid of the vibrant life of the surrounding green plains. High walls, topped with a glittering carpet of what looked suspiciously like magically reinforced, razor-sharp glass shards, encircled the entire perimeter. Patrolling figures in dark, uniform cloaks moved with an unnerving, clockwork regularity along the ramparts, their movements precise and their faces completely obscured by deep cowls.
"Looks like they aren't expecting guests," Jacqueline murmured, her voice a low whisper as they huddled in the deep shadow of an ancient, gnarled tree a short distance away.
The air around the institute hummed with a subtle, oppressive energy, a faint tingling sensation on their skin that spoke of powerful wards and unseen, magical defenses.
Low, her senses heightened even in her human form, sniffed the air, her nose wrinkling in distaste. "Smells… sterile. Like a hospital. And something else… something cold and metallic, like old blood." She shivered, despite the warmth of the afternoon sun.
Leonotis, his usual cheerfulness completely dimmed by the oppressive, foreboding atmosphere, pointed to a section of the wall where thick, strangling ivy had grown, partially obscuring a narrow drainage gap near the ground. "Maybe… maybe we can squeeze through there? It looks like it's been neglected."
Jacqueline considered it, her gaze sweeping over the vigilant, pacing guards. "Too exposed. The moment we break the foliage cover, they'd spot us. We need something… less direct." Her eyes fell upon a series of large, wrought-iron ventilation grates set into the lower levels of the building's foundation. "The air ducts. Risky, cramped, and likely filled with spiders, but it might be our only option."
Zombiel, who had been silent throughout their approach, nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on one of the grates. His past undead nature, though cured, seemed to have left him with a different kind of awareness, a sensitivity to the unseen magical currents flowing around the building. He pointed a finger towards a specific grate that was almost completely obscured by a thicket of overgrown, thorny bushes.
Under the cover of the dense foliage, Low managed to pry open the rusted grate with a low groan of protesting metal. The opening revealed a dark, narrow shaft, the air that puffed out from within thick with the smell of dust, disuse, and stale, recycled air.
"Lovely," Low muttered, peering into the claustrophobic gloom. "A tight squeeze, and probably full of spiders." She glanced back at the others, a grim, determined look on her face. "Well, what are we waiting for?"