Chapter 5: Solemn Realisation

 

“It’s strange,” said Ezekiel as he tugged the coat closer to his body.

 

Yura threw another piece of wood to the fire. It crackled loudly, a soothing sound in the symphony of wind hitting the crowns above. “The forest?” she asked distractedly.

 

“No. The people from the clan, they talk to me now. I don’t know how to feel about it.”

 

They were seated around a fire in the outskirts of the camp. Further away, the fire and water clan members were eating stew prepared by the chefs they had brought along. Voices filled the large meadow, shadows dancing from the countless campfires.

 

“You’ll get used to it,” Kyro said, fiddling with some kind of amulet opposite him. It was an enchanted item, he had told them some days ago, that stored fire essence.

 

Ezekiel didn’t know if he would get used to it but didn’t speak up.

 

“Now, if you have time to think about such things,” the older man proclaimed. “Then you aren’t doing it right. So get back to work.”

 

“Cut him some slack,” Yura interjected from Ezekiel’s left. “The soup will be gone if we don’t hurry.”

 

“Good thing your brother prepared then. Unlike you.”

 

“A warm stomach is better for cultivation, Grandpa.”

 

“So is massive amounts of fire essence. But until Ezekiel reaches his first compression, fire treasures are too dense for him.” Kyro pointed out.

 

“Teacher is right, sister,” Ezekiel said. “He did tell me I wouldn’t get to eat dinner until I meditated for at least two hours after the afternoon practice.”

 

“But it’s my fault then, not yours!” Yura exclaimed. “I was the one who pulled you away to meet Mika and Teresa again.”

 

“Go get some stew, child.” The old man said as he finally looked up from the amulet. “You can talk to him after he has finished.

 

Yura groaned and puffed, as she always did when something didn’t go her way but took off nonetheless. Ezekiel smirked inwardly. Hunger overcame anger when it came to his sister.

 

With no one to distract him, he went back to drawing in strands of fire essence from the campfire. He pulled it into his core and fed it to the lifeflame that burned brightly in the center. It had widened since they started the journey, from a small flame to, well, a slightly larger one.

 

Kyro told him that he would soon reach his first compression, a stage where a cultivator forced his element to become denser. For fire cultivators, this made their life-flame hotter.

 

The next day began the way all the days at travel had done. A quick breakfast and then a slow march through the chest-nut-colored trees. They pierced the sky like lone guardians, giving each other an almost respectful berth.

 

Ezekiel wondered about the history of these woods as he crushed undergrowth under his boots and stepped over protruding rocks. The beauty of it all made him feel warm inside, the silent and peaceful embrace it provided.

 

“With the way you’re daydreaming, I wouldn’t be surprised if you tripped over right here and now.”

 

A familiar voice broke him out of his reverie.

 

Teresa, with that gentle smile of hers, appeared next to him. Coincidentally, Ezekiel almost stumbled as he saw her. She laughed as he righted himself.

 

“I was–eh– thinking.” He said as he watched her wild hair dance in a gentle breeze.

 

“Thinking? About who.” She asked as she jumped over an overgrown, mossy rock. Her eyes twinkled as she waited for a response.

 

Ezekiel felt like saying that he was thinking about her, about how her hair matched the color of the trees, how he thought she resembled the description of a forest nymph, with those green eyes and full lips, and hair that swirled like tussles of thin, barbless vines.

 

“About the forest. It’s beautiful.” He said instead.

 

“It is.” She agreed. “Maybe I’ll choose it for my branch. Teresa, the wood cultivator.”

 

“It’s a good choice.”

 

She nodded, her gaze forward. “What about you?”

 

“Blast or Magma.” He replied.

 

Teresa let out a small laugh as she turned her head to look at him. It was a beautiful laugh, like birdsong. “I didn’t take you for the forceful type, Ezekiel.”

 

“Fire is forceful.” He said with a shrug.

 

“It’s also gentle.” She refused, pointing to the sun. Its rays streamed through the glittering forest ceiling. “The sun wakes us up every morning, while campfires keep us warm at night.”

 

“So, I think of it as a rather passionate element, don’t you, Ezekiel?”

 

He agreed and said as such.

 

She laughed in return, and they continued to small-talk throughout the day. Where Yura and Mika was, he had no idea. On the other hand, he was glad to finally talk with the water clan girl alone for once.

 

–Break–

 

Ezekiel woke up in the middle of the night the same day, startled. His head hurt, and he first thought it was a migraine. But, then, he realized it was something else.

 

There was a strange tugging at his mind, a calling. It was familiar to him, it reminded him of–

 

He turned around, locking his eyes on a shadow that sat by an almond guardian not far away, leaning against its firm and robust trunk. He blinked, and it was gone.

 

A voice of no words entered his mind, beckoned him away from the camp. He knew it wasn’t a request but a command.

 

Ezekiel felt revulsion but knew he had no choice. He got up slowly to not wake up the others and strapped on his sword belt. Afterward, the boy tip-toed over both Yura and Kyro. Finally, he made it to the clearing and let out a small breath when he passed under cover of the trees.

 

“How about that. Young master going out for a walk?”

 

He froze in his tracks. To his left, a figure trotted over. As he came closer, the torch in his illuminated him enough for Ezekiel to see him clearly.

 

A headache unrelated to the Primordial demon’s calling came to life.

 

With twenty years to his name, the young man had a broad build, with a thick neck and sharp nose. The light from the torch revealed the flat look he was giving Ezekiel, along with the narrowed gaze.

 

“Going somewhere?” he asked, in that disgusting deep voice of his.

 

Ezekiel wanted to hit himself. But of course, of all the people placed for guard duty, he just had to cross paths with Regan Tresh.

 

“To pee.” He told the young man.

 

“With your sword?”

 

“I might get attacked.”

 

Regan Tresh scoffed. “I doubt someone like you would last a second against a fiend even with a sword in hand.” He leaned in and showed a cold smile with very white teeth. “Not that I care.”

 

Ezekiel took a step back. Phantom pain from long ago resurfaced, and he suppressed an urge to grind his teeth.

 

“Once a coward, always a coward,” Regan said with a smirk. “Run along, trash.”

 

The young man turned around and walked back from where he came.

 

Ezekiel stood rooted in place. His eyes and cheeks were hot, and even more so when he noticed how he untensed at the sight of Regan leaving.

 

“Pathetic.” A voice whispered in his ear, cold and full of belittlement. “I wonder, truly, what use do I even have of you.”

 

Ezekiel twirled around. The appearance of two slitted eyes, centimeters from his face, made him fall to his ass.

 

He looked up, and they were gone.

 

His cheeks burned, and this time, he really did gnash his teeth.

 

Swearing, he crawled to his feet and made his way deeper into the forest.

 

The Primordial demon stood waiting for him in a small meadow where a small stream ran across in the center. Mossy stones protruded from the shallow water, and pebbles were scattered around and about.

 

“I told you we’d meet again soon.” The primordial demon said, once again leaning against a tree.

 

Ezekiel wanted to retort the being somehow but didn’t dare. He berated himself for being a timid mouse, but he feared the Primordial demon would take away what was given. And this time, he didn’t have plum wine to bolster his confidence.

 

“What do you want me to do?”

 

“Oh, little Ezekiel.” The Primordial demon said in his cold voice. “I’ll make a man out of you someday. We will have such a good time together. I just know it.”

 

Ezekiel clenched his jaw but said nothing.

 

The deity laughed. “There’s a certain item I want you to retrieve. The crown of malice. It shall be counted as the first favor.”

 

“What is it?” the boy asked.

 

The Primordial demon waved his question away. “All you need to know is that I want it. It lies deep within the tomb of Areth-Testora, in the coffin of the darkness cultivator buried there.”

 

Ezekiel nodded but ultimately frowned and spoke up. “If it’s so precious,” how can I get ahold of it? I haven’t even gone through my first compression.”

 

“Certain events will unfold,” the deity explained, “that will even out the playing field. Slightly.”

 

A feeling of unease crept over Ezekiel, but he nodded again. “I will try.”

 

“Oh no, little Ezekiel.” The primordial demon flashed him his trademark smile, his slitted cat-eyes zooming in on him like a predator. “You will not try. You will get me that item. Do you understand?”

 

The boy gulped, and a part of him already wished he hadn’t taken that deal.

 

“I will.”

 

“Gooood.” The primordial demon hummed. “Now, what was is that mortal said… oh yes, run along, trash.”

 

A feeling of extreme danger overcame his senses, and he fell back on his ass again, straight into the small stream. A sharp pain dulled his vision as the icy water drenched him and his clothes.

 

The primordial demon’s cackle faded like a bad dream.

 

Ezekiel rolled over to dry land, groaning as he touched the back of his head. His hand came away bloody.

 

A small pebble lay visible just above the stream’s surface, colored crimson.

 

He closed his eyes hard and refused to cry. The physical pain was far less than the mental.

 

“So what if I can cultivate.” He asked aloud, staring up into the night sky. The eternal watcher’s eye gazed down at him indifferently, followed by his brightly twinkling children. The forest was dark and quiet around him, and he felt as if even its guardians looked down at him judgingly.

 

“It doesn’t change a damn thing.”