The hope Kaelan had synthesized was a fragile, volatile compound.
For three days, Ghostwind Manor hummed with a tense, unfamiliar energy. Lyra took charge with a ruthless efficiency Kaelan admired. The purified glow-moss was divided: a portion carefully dried and stored in the larder, a larger portion set aside in a handsome, if worn, oak chest for the tithe.
The single healthy sky-ram was kept hidden in a cellar pen, its distinctive silver fleece brushed clean. The other two, scrawny and dull-coated, were tethered in the main courtyard.
Kaelan observed it all from the arms of his mother or the makeshift crib in the solar, his mind a silent engine processing data. He learned names, relationships, and the crushing weight of their circumstances. The manor staff consisted of three aging retainers: Borin, a one-armed ex-guardsman; Elara, the cook whose hands shook with more than age; and her grandson, Finn, a wiry boy of twelve with eyes too old for his face. They were the last threads holding the estate together.
On the morning of the tithe, Lyra came to him as Liara fed him a thin, bland porridge. Her face was set in grim lines.
"The Stalkers will be here by midday," she said, kneeling beside the crib. Her voice was low. "They are beastkin of the Gloomwood—wolf heritage. Their leader, Garr, is Tier 3.2. He can smell fear and weakness. He'll see the ram is not our best. The moss… it is perfect. Too perfect. It may raise questions."
Kaelan looked at her. He understood the problem. The offering was both a lifeline and a risk. It demonstrated unexpected competence. In a world of predators, competence could be seen as a challenge.
<< Analysis: Offer must appear as desperate luck, not cultivated skill. Suggest contamination. >>
He flicked his eyes toward the hearth. Understanding flashed in Lyra's eyes. "You want to… degrade the offering? To make it seem worse?"
He blinked once. Yes.
"A calculated show of weakness," she murmured, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. "Smart. But how? We cannot simply re-blight it."
<< Utilize Ferroxic Dust. Minimal application. Surface contamination only. Mimics partial blight recovery, suggests struggle. >>
He stared intently at the small pouch on her belt where she kept the vial of red powder. She followed his gaze, and her smile widened, though it held no warmth. "Of course. A touch of the 'sickness' remains. Just enough to tell a story of a lucky, partial salvage." She nodded. "Rest. Today will be… informative."
The sun climbed, and with it, a palpable dread thickened the air. Arric donned his best tunic, the Ghostwind crest—a stylized phoenix over a mountain—faded but clean. He strapped on his old longsword, its pommel worn smooth. Lyra stood beside him on the manor steps, her posture deceptively relaxed. Kaelan was with Liara at an upper window, a vantage point for observation.
They came not with a march, but with a silent emergence from the treeline. Five figures, moving with a predator's loose-limbed grace. The Gloomwood Stalkers. They wore leathers patched with fur and chitin. Their leader, Garr, was a head taller than the rest, his grey hair streaked with black, his yellow eyes scanning the courtyard like it was a hunting ground. His aura was a smoky, violent red to Kaelan's Chip-enhanced senses. << Target: Garr. Tier: 3.3. Threat Assessment: High. Predatory instincts dominant. >>
"Lord Ghostwind," Garr's voice was a gravelly rumble, devoid of courtesy. "You have our due?"
Arric's back straightened. "We do. Two sky-rams from our flock." He gestured to the tethered animals.
Garr's nose twitched. He didn't even look at the rams. "The third is ill, I presume. A pity. And the glow-moss? The blight has not spared you, I hear."
"It has not," Lyra interjected smoothly, stepping forward. She opened the oak chest. Inside, the glow-moss shimmered with healthy light—except for a few artfully scattered patches of faint, rusty discoloration where Lyra had dusted the powder. "We managed to salvage this much from the worst of the patches. The Weave showed a sliver of mercy."
Garr's yellow eyes narrowed. He strode forward, leaned down, and took a deep sniff of the moss. He was silent for a long moment. "The sickness is on it… but the heart of it is clean. Strong." He straightened, looking from Lyra to Arric. "This is not salvage. This is cultivation. Have you hidden an earth-mage from us, Ghostwind?"
The accusation hung in the air, cold and sharp.
"My daughter has a touch for herbs," Arric said, his voice strained but firm. "And we prayed. Desperately. That is all."
Garr stared at them, his gaze calculating the worth of the moss against the implied defiance. Finally, he grunted. "The tithe is accepted. This moss is… sufficient." He motioned to his hunters, who began efficiently loading the rams and the chest onto a mule. But Garr wasn't finished. "The blight is retreating from your southern ridge. We have seen it. That land borders our hunting runs. We will require an increased tithe next season to reflect your… improved fortunes."
It was a naked land-grab, couched in false fairness. Arric's knuckles whitened on his sword hilt. Lyra placed a subtle, restraining hand on his arm.
"The Weave's blessings are fickle, Garr," she said, her voice like polished ice. "Today's health may be tomorrow's blight. We shall see what the next season brings."
Garr's lips peeled back in something resembling a smile, revealing sharp canines. "We shall." His eyes swept the crumbling manor, the overgrown gardens, the few fearful faces at the windows. They lingered for a moment on the upper window where Liara held Kaelan. A chill passed through Kaelan's tiny body. << Subject Garr: Hostile intent confirmed. Long-term threat designation: Active. >>
Then, as swiftly as they came, the Stalkers melted back into the treeline, leaving the courtyard feeling hollow and exposed.
The tension did not break; it merely changed shape. That night, in the family's private quarters, the air was thick with grim relief and simmering anger.
"He knows," Arric growled, pacing before the fire. "He knows we have some advantage now. He'll push harder. An 'increased tithe.' He means to strangle us slowly."
"But he didn't take everything today," Lyra countered, sharpening her dagger with methodical strokes. "The pure moss bought us time. And we have the dust." She touched the vial at her belt. "A surprise for anyone who gets too close."
Liara rocked Kaelan, her face pale. "We are playing with forces we don't understand. Our son… his gifts…"
"Are the only reason we're not handing over our last ram and starving through the winter," Lyra stated flatly. She looked at Kaelan. "We need more. We need something that can't be taken away. Not just a better crop, but a defense."
Kaelan, lulled by the rhythm of his mother's heartbeat and the warm fatigue of the day, felt the Chip's persistent query resurface. The anomaly. The spatial tremor from behind the vault door. It pulsed softly in his awareness, a siren call of dormant, monumental power.
<< Anomaly Scan Request: Pending. Priority Elevated. >>
<< Hypothesis: Anomaly may represent strategic asset or existential threat. Data required. >>
The family's problems were immediate: food, security, a predatory neighbor. But the Chip's logic was inescapable. To solve local equations, one sometimes needed universal constants.
As full darkness fell and the manor settled into an uneasy silence, Kaelan focused his mind. His family slept, exhausted by fear and fragile hope. He gave the mental command.
<< Initiate Passive Scan of Designated Anomaly. Low energy. Long range. Stealth protocol. >>
A thread of awareness, finer than spider-silk, extended from him, through the stone floor and walls, toward the vault. It was not true sight, but a topographical mapping of distorted reality.
The scan returned not in images, but in layers of chilling data.
`<< Scanning... >>
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The data flooded his mind, a tsunami of terrifying implications. A dragon. Not a myth. A Tier 9 apocalyptic event sleeping in their basement, with a timer ticking down to their annihilation.
But within the threat data, the Chip, ever analytical, had already begun parsing the opportunity. << Void-aspected crystalline lattice compatible with Omega Chip architecture for potential integration. Spatial Anchor principles may be replicable for interdimensional travel. Biological template represents pinnacle of native world's evolutionary synthesis. >>
The problem was no longer just Garr and his tithes. It was a countdown to oblivion. But woven into the fabric of that oblivion was the potential for transcendence.
Kaelan's eyes opened in the dark, reflecting no infantile fear, only the cold, clear light of calculation. The Omega Chip hummed softly in his soul, its core directive absolute.
<< Primary Objective: Ensure Host Survival. >>
<< New Sub-Objective: Solve "Axiom Seed" Equation. Parameters: 1. Prevent mana-drain extinction. 2. Secure entity loyalty. 3. Integrate void-lattice principles. Time Limit: 297 days. >>
<< Project: Phoenix Protocol. Step Two: Commence. >>
The synthesis had just gotten infinitely more complex. The next ingredient required was not moss, but time, power, and a plan to tame a god.