Vrakhu emerged from the forest’s shadows to stand in the clearing around the Tree of purple leaves.

  The energy flowing inside and beneath the tree lit up like a bonfire the instant it recognized him.

  But there was something coming through with the energy.

  A question.

  Vrakhu understood the question even without hearing the words.

  “They are fine.”

  The energy brightened in response.

  Static hummed through the air and danced across Vrakhu’s skin.

  “You can find them if you try.”

  Another question passed through the static, though the static itself was more turbulent than before.

  “You are old enough to do that yourself.” He moved through the clearing and picked up the sack.

  Many of the herbs and greens he’d picked were fading — fast.

  He’d need to find replacements for them soon.

  He’d also need to find medicinal herbs for salves and antidotes.

  The twins didn’t need them now. But they would soon. He’d need to have them on hand when they were needed.

  An arc of condensed energy snapped at him; it struck his foot and the sound of a cracked whip rang out.

  Waves of static electricity flowed over Vrakhu’s skin.

  It was wild.

  It was impatient.

  It was coming from the Tree of purple leaves.

  Vrakhu dumped the plants in the sack on the ground inside the hollow.

  “Keep these alive as long as you can. I’ll return soon.”

  Another arc struck him; it splashed against his right cheekbone, accompanied by a — Crack! — that caused birds in the neighboring trees to flee their nests.

  After the crack, came the same question. This time louder; a scream instead of a whisper.

  “Where Child-Ren!?”

  Vrakhu tucked the sack into a jacket pocket and started for the forest.

  Energy gathered in the air.

  Arcs of green electricity flowed across the ground all across the clearing and leapt into the air: creating a dozen reverse lightning bolts that struck the sky.

  Vrakhu stopped moving with his right foot a few inches from the fire.

  He said nothing and made not one move to stop the energy building over his head.

  Vibrant green grass suddenly turned brown.

  Bushes visibly shook as the energy within them flashed wildly to his senses.

  The neighboring trees reversed their normal flow, sending energy back into the ground to protect the smaller plants from the oppressive energy.

  After a few seconds of feeling the electricity flow across his skin. Vrakhu’s head angled upwards; his pupils were long slits that bisected his glowing yellow eyes.

  He took a single breath, the first he’d taken in hours.

  The clearing shook as his core slammed against his chest.

  “Enough.”

  The fire vanished with not even an ember left to remember it.

  The electricity was gone as if it’d never existed.

  The tree felt several of its roots turn to dust and its trunk vibrate.

  Vrakhu stopped his breath mid-way and looked at the ground.

  It wasn’t enough.

  It never was.

  His core still shook the bars of his greater will, demanding he take more.

  He could feel the Tree of purple leaves’ energy shrink away, falling back into itself instead of lashing out like a petulant child.

  Which it was.

  A child with more energy than sense.

  “Instead of bullying your neighbors, use that energy to find the twins.” He tucked his arms behind his back, grabbed his right wrist with his left hand, and moved around the tree of purple leaves.

  Its energy fled from him. Running to its highest branches and deep into the ground to avoid his eyes.

  It watched him like a cat guarding its prized toy.

  He could sense its fear in the way its branches trembled.

  But that fear was tempered by another emotion; it liked him. It liked the twins. However, it did not like being yelled at.

  Its branches sagged slightly; imperceptible to most, but not to him, and the static in the air faded somewhat.

  A whispered question brushed against his senses as he reached the cliff behind the tree of purple leaves.

  “They will stay with you. At least for a while.”

  He felt a slight tingle against his skin before he dropped off the ledge, which was as close to an apology as he was ever likely to get.

  Cultivators, even non-human ones, were a proud race.

  Wars were waged, and mortals swept away over the words “I’m sorry.”

  Yet these are among the first concepts taught to children.

  Vrakhu knew he was no exception.

  He stretched out a hand and brushed his knuckles against the trunk of a pine tree.

  Its energy brightened, and churned faster beneath his touch.

  His core lurched forth and slammed against his greater will.

  Those tantalizing whispers urging him to give in.

  Take.

  Feed.

  Need.

  But Vrakhu ignored it… And marveled at how easy it was.

  Before the Agliha, he’d never been able to ignore it.

  He could resist the urge in the same way a mortal could hold their breath.

  Easy at first.

  But no matter how fiercely, how desperately you resist.

  It always ended in failure.

  It would be so easy to give in.

  To relax.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  To breathe deeply.

  But ease doesn’t equal peace.

  And might doesn’t always make right.

  Vrakhu pulled away from the tree and locked his hands behind his back.

  He walked in silence and watched the energy of the world dance around him.

  He much preferred this to the alternative.

  As the sun rose high into the sky, Vrakhu returned to the place he’d once called home.

  His mountainous cradle.

  He looked up at the cliff, sought out the very ledge he’d jumped from, then bent his knees.

  A gentle breeze rushed through the grass around his feet.

  He pushed off the ground and rose on the wind.

  He pushed off tree trunks and climbed higher.

  He kicked off rocks and climbed higher.

  Then, when he had nothing left to climb but a sheer cliff, he extended a leg; something flickered beneath his shoes, a mass of energy so dense it gave color to the wind.

  Vrakhu kicked off the pillow of energy he’d created and climbed higher — the construct popped the instant he ceased contact.

  Then he did it again, and again.

  Each step carried him a thousand feet into the air and was instantly followed by an audible — Snap! — that made the air tremble.

  He leapt beyond the cave, beyond the mine, and higher still; into the very peak of the mountain itself.

  A height so vast the trees looked like blades of grass.

  The horizon laid out before him; its secrets playing out before his eyes.

  He felt the trickle of snow in his hair and on his face.

  He felt the charge in the air and the pulse beneath his feet.

  Black clouds covered the sky in endless night, lit only by flashes of lightning and the vibrant orange of the setting sun.

  A dozen smaller mountains stretched towards the sky, each eager to one day surpass the mountain where he stood.

  Then it happened.

  A ray of errant sunlight struck something in the distance.

  The light ricocheted from one mountain unto the next until the entire range was alight with color.

  A rainbow ridge that spanned the width and breadth of the horizon.

  And then Vrakhu blinked.

  A dozen snow covered mountains spread out before him.

  Though the sun still hung in the sky, the light reflected off only bare stone and bedrock.

  Vrakhu stared at the mountains while the sun lazily drifted across the sky.

  Shortly after the sun passed its mid-day position, Vrakhu felt something brush across his senses.

  His eyes slid from the mountains’ peaks to the base of a single mountain some twenty miles away.

  A few dark clouds lingered over the mountain's peak, while trails of black smoke rose from its base.

  Vrakhu took a step closer to the edge and followed the smoke trails to their source.

  A city broke through the stone and climbed the side of the mountain; high walls isolated them from the world.

  Huge stone buildings poured black smoke into the sky above. While the mountain itself looked emaciated, as if it was on the verge of collapsing beneath its own weight.

  Vrakhu focused on the city and his pupils elongated.

  It felt wrong.

  Tens of thousands of smaller energies surrounding a handful of larger masses.

  It reminded him of a large ant colony.

  Yet even that description felt incorrect.

  Ants worked together. But these ants seemed more interested in pushing each other aside and becoming the brightest light in the nest of shadows.

  His eyes slid upwards to the dark clouds hanging overhead.

  And that was the result.

  Vrakhu set his eyes on the city and watched it throughout the day.

  Snow fell across his body and buried him to the knees.

  Still, he waited.

  His clothes soaked through until the fibers could hold no more water.

  And still, he waited.

  He remained still until the sun had long since passed its mid-day position and had fallen into Corin’s side of the sky.

  Vrakhu turned and the snow collapsed to the ground by the pound.

  He walked to the opposite edge and looked out over the forest.

  If he focused, he could barely feel the Tree of purple leaves energy.

  The lone amethyst amongst the emerald trees.

  Vrakhu bent his knees and leapt into the sky — accompanied by a flash of lightning and a howl of thunder.

  Back in the field.

  Corin and Corvin were both utterly bored.

  They’d been waiting for Vrakhu to return since Mid-day, yet they hadn’t seen a single silver hair all day.

  Did he get lost?

  Were they supposed to go look for him?

  Corin sat on the ground beside her stone.

  A crown of vibrantly colored flowers rested atop her head while she gazed at the setting sun.

  “Maybe we were supposed to go back to camp without him?” She shook the thought away as soon as it appeared. “No, he told us not to leave the field….”

  She scratched at a bug bite on her arm and sighed. “What do you think?”

  Corvin was startled awake and opened his eyes; he quickly shoved himself backwards, lest he fall to the ground.

  He’d gotten bored enough to climb one of the trees on the edge of the field. Just to see if he could, and because Corin told him not to.

  He’d climbed about halfway up the tree before he found a branch suitable enough to sit on.

  But now that he was up here, he wasn’t actually sure how to get back down... Not that he'd ever admit that to his know-it-all sister.

  So, he’d decided to take a nap and wait for the old man to show his face.

  “Ha?” He yelled while wiping the sleep from his eyes.

  “Do you think we should find our own way back to camp?”

  “Uh…” He looked over the edge and found his breakfast threatening to come back up. “Why-uh-why would we do that?”

  Corin shrugged even though he couldn’t possibly see her.

  “I was just wondering; what if this whole day was a test? What if we were supposed to find our own way home and we failed by wasting time around here?”

  Corvin started to say something but stopped before the first syllable.

  That was… actually a good point.

  “Nah. He told us to wait here, so we waited here. It’s like dad always used to say. ‘A cultivator must always—”

  “Always obey their master.” Corin rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “I remember.”

  “I don’t believe those were the instructions I gave you.”

  “Ahh!” Corin threw herself to the side and scrambled to her feet. She needed a weapon, something she could swing and… “Oh. Hello Master.” She quickly recovered her posture and clumsily bowed to Vrakhu.

  Vrakhu said nothing.

  “Corin!? What is it!? Did something happen!? Wait there — I’m coming!”

  Vrakhu dropped the heavy brown sack at her feet and found Corvin’s eyes through the trees.

  “Wait here.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  He saw Corvin swing his legs over the side of the branch and slowly, carefully, lower himself onto the next branch down.

  Vrakhu watched him struggle to climb down even as he moved to the base of Corvin’s tree.

  The boy was surprisingly athletic for a child.

  His movements were clumsy, but sensible. He seemed to instinctively know how to get down; it was his body that struggled to keep up with his instincts.

  When Corvin was nearly a third of the way down. He had to swing and let go of a branch to reach the next one down.

  — Crack! —

  The branch snapped beneath his weight and he fell.

  He caught himself on another branch, ripped the skin from his palms, yet he couldn’t hold on.

  He fell a second time.

  His head was down, his feet were up, and he was falling fast.

  Vrakhu reached out once Corvin was close enough.

  He lightly smacked the boy’s ankles with the back of one hand, while gently nudging his head with the other hand.

  Vrakhu’s hands switched places and Corvin found himself landing on his feet with a heavy — Thud —

  He landed in a crouch; pain and tremors traveled from his feet to his knees before settling in his hips.

  “Thank… you… Master. Ah.” He struggled to talk through the pain and the effort it took to straighten his legs.

  Vrakhu observed him for a moment longer before he turned and walked away.

  “Come.”

  The two rejoined Corin by the stones and Vrakhu motioned for them to take their seats.

  “Are you alright? You’re walking funny.”

  “I’m fine.” Corvin sniffed and shoved back the tears threatening to fall.

  No way would he give her the satisfaction.

  But he didn’t need to.

  Corin had seen him fall, and she’d known beforehand that he was stuck in the tree.

  A similar thing happened a few months ago and their older brother had to rescue him.

  She’d known of his fear of heights ever since then.

  She just enjoyed watching him squirm.

  Vrakhu watched them chat amongst themselves for a few moments longer.

  Then, once their attention was solely on him. “Describe your core.”

  Corin was the first to speak.

  “It’s a ball of energy that grows inside every cultivator. It’s somewhere around… here, I think.” She motioned to a spot between her stomach and chest.

  She dropped her hands to her lap while wearing a satisfied smile. She’d carefully gone over everything she’d ever heard her father — Lord Dryden say.

  She was sure this time she was—

  “No.”

  Corin’s expression faltered and her head drooped until chin touched chest.

  Vrakhu ignored her reaction and looked at Corvin.

  Corvin was watching his sister with concern etched into his face.

  She was always the smarter one.

  She was good at maths.

  She could memorize complicated words easily.

  She could parrot back almost anything said to her without pause.

  If even she got it wrong… What chance would he have?

  “I… I don’t know.” The words tasted like garbage on his tongue. But he didn’t know what else to say.

  Vrakhu blinked.

  “Better.”