Raum | 17 Leafbloom, 1723 CE

“In all things, there is a balance; an equilibrium. Both good and evil. Light and dark. Birth and death. We must remember this as we borrow our power from the earth. We are from the earth, but different from earth. Thus, it is not our power to wield, but nature’s. We are merely the vessel, like the wind against stone.”

Raum sat in silence as her teacher recounted the lesson she had heard a nauseating amount of times over the last few years. He paced back and forth, with his back to her, staring out past the small clearing to the trees beyond. Raum sat on a stone in the center of the clearing as her mentor Gralik spoke, surrounded on all sides by thick redwoods and pine. The grass was wet with dew. Raum didn’t care for the cold sensation against her woven sandals and bare toes. The water droplets would find their way in between her toes and under the front end of her foot, causing her to slide a little in the foot coverings. 

Spring had begun, but only barely, and the lingering chill was still a little too present for Raum to ever be fully comfortable. The smell of winter was beginning to pass though. That was always the first thing Raum noticed. Overnight, the sharp smell that saturated the air would become thicker, saturated with an earthy wetness. The air felt less still, and more alive, much like the plants that would begin sprouting shortly thereafter. In the second month of the year, there would usually be a week of stunning beauty followed closely by three more weeks of rain, cold, and storms. But at the end, spring would strike in full bloom. It had been about two weeks since the last of the storms, and the world around her had embraced the coming warmth of the sun.

Gralik was one of the wild people that had set up small villages within the forests of the world. He stood around seven feet tall with olive-gray skin and old blue tattoos that covered his arms and torso. They were faded with age, but still articulated the clean artistry of the tattooist. Those inked into his arms were shaped in thick blue spirals, and runic insignias that Raum knew to be druidic text. She was able to read most of them, but the meaning of a few still eluded her. Of those she could read, she was able to ascertain the critical moments in Gralik’s life, particularly related to his greater works and accomplishments. 

Gralik was one of the village elders, and the man responsible for Raum’s current training and position within the community. She knew she was different, a creature born of conflict and not of this life, but Gralik had embraced her as a surrogate daughter. His wife Laynira and he had lost their daughter the winter before finding Raum. Lost in grief, Gralik had found Raum deep in the woods, left to die in the wilderness. There, as an infant, Gralik and Laynira took on the roles of parents to a horned baby girl. 

Raum’s mind wandered as Gralik preached to her about balance. She was too excited. As of yet, she hadn’t adopted full spells into her repertoire, but a number of smaller enchantments and minor spells were at her disposal. She could cleanse water of impurities, and could do some minor wood and stone shaping. She had yet to do anything terribly impressive though. That was about to change. Today she would try her hand at her first major growth spells.

It was an exercise that all younger druid acolytes went through. The Shaping was the novice’s first significant attempt at facilitating the cycle of life and death. One would take a dying plant, and use their talents to help strengthen the younger growth, using the strength of the older growths around it. It was a symbol of the balance that those dedicated to the druidic arts attempted to live by. Something dies, something grows. Something fades, something emerges. In all things, balance.

It was hard to focus on Gralik though, because his words seemed dull in comparison with the knowledge that she would soon help new life spring forth. Though she understood the principles behind the Cycle, it was truly magical, nearly other-worldly that it should be within her grasp to accomplish. Gralik was reaching the end of his rehearsed speech. She wondered how many times he had recited it over the many years of his life to new novices. She decided to switch her attention back to him.

“As so, today you will take the steps necessary to advance your connection with the world around you. One step closer to balancing yourself with the natural order. One step closer to becoming one with the Cycle. Novice,” he stopped his pacing, and turned to face her square on, “do you accept this challenge, and the responsibility that shall accompany it?”

“I do.” She could feel the giddiness inside her. 

“Step forward.”

As she climbed off the rock, and stepped through the wet grass towards him, he extended a small clay pot towards her. Inside was a seedling that had only begun to sprout. Now that the frosts were behind them, the community had begun sowing their crops for the spring.

She took the pot gracefully in both hands, and Gralik motioned her to a spot that lay just outside the clearing. There was a small number of trees that were considerably less old than the larger trees that encircled the grove. These were the saplings planted by previous druid novices. Even through their magical gifts, the saplings still had many centuries to go before reaching the heights of their forebears.

Raum knew that selecting the appropriate placement of the sapling was a key element of the ritual. The task was supposed to help showcase elements of the learning that each novice received years in advance of this moment, related to the growing of crops, and balance of life. 

Raum chose a spot some ways into the woods. There was proper distance between this and the other trees around it. The soil was still damp from the dew and rains of the last few weeks, but still dry enough to convince her of proper drainage. But most of all, there was something special about the location, she thought, as she looked into the forest and saw a single stream of light touching the spot, in between the canopy of leaves and branches. A ray of light to help the seedling grow.

She knelt to the ground, and dug with her hands. The hole she created was just deep enough to encompass the roots of the sapling, and stabilize the small delicate trunk that it was developing. Carefully, she removed the sapling and a small quantity of potting soil, placed both into the newly dug hole, and returned the covering of dirt to the top.

Gralik stood near her as she diligently worked. She looked up at him to signal her readiness, and he gave her a definitive nod, closing his eyes in solemn reverence for the moment as he did. Raum turned back to the seedling, and moved her hands into a cup shape just above the sapling’s peak.

“Ón Sykthriall ee oriämo. An Sykthriall gi kiernulle ee. Palahayni go ueida ee. Voia fi te saminlaas. Ald tugash saminlaas koon gin wratull aliq gi ilanim an ee,” She spoke the words methodically, purposefully, and reverently. ‘From the cycle you come. To the cycle I return you. Strength be upon you. Life be within you.’ Soar to the heavens. May the light in the heavens grant me the gift which I pass to you. Never were they more than a whisper on the breeze. Yet as she spoke, she could feel something begin inside her, moving to a tingling sensation at her fingertips. 

There was no sound, or dazzling display of energy to inform onlookers of the magical connection. But beneath her hards, the sapling began to grown. She moved her hands away gently, half expecting the connection to have failed. But instead, what she happen before her, from her own skill, was like something out of a fairy tail. It was slow at first, beginning with a single leaf. A small twinkle began at the meeting point between leaves and branch. The stalk of the planet began to expand, slowly, the wood beginning to grow taller, and thicker around. It began at the core of the plant, and slowly extended out to the small branches, which began multiplying in number as the stalk grew rapidly. What started as a plant no more than a few inches tall, continued to expand, growing nearly three feet from the ground, and establishing several dozen branches that began exploding with bright red leaves. 

Raum giggled as she saw the plant grow. Each plant in this ceremony was selected based on the person performing it. Gralik, being Raum’s mentor, had selected a dragon maple as the sapling of choice. It was a fitting choice, she thought. As it grew, the red leaves would take on a lighter shade of red, that would symbolize her own reddish-pink skin. This had been a conversation through the years, Raum feeling both connected and othered within the group, knowing that her own lineage was otherworldly. They rarely spoke of it anymore, but her heritage, her connection to the Void was something that was immediately and strikingly apparent in the tanned, rough-skinned community of humans. But the elders of the village always reveled that even in the differences, there was a beauty about her that was only rivaled by the wild flowers in the forest. This tree would be no different. It would stand apart from the brown and ashen bark colors of the other trees in the grove, with its deep ebony-colored bark, and brilliant pink and red leaves. But that difference would be a stand-alone beauty. It was a thoughtful gesture.

She looked up to see Gralik smiling in a true fatherly fashion.

“Thank you,” she whispered, a tear running down one side of her cheek.

***

A large feast was held that night. The entire community came out of their small hovels and burrows. It was always interesting hosting a party such as this, as the community had spread out amongst a midst of housing options in the forest clearings they called home. Some had built small huts and cabins from thatch, and sod, built with planks made from the outskirts of the clearing. Some had elected a more traditional burrow home, such as Raum. Digging into the earth, one was largely protected from the elements. In the winters, the small fireplace in her hole kept the space cozy and warm. In the summers, the earth protected her from the heat of the sun and humidity that seemed to cling to the skin. There was no central square or festival grounds for them to use. Celebrations such as this, a celebration of the new druid apprentices, seemed to flow throughout the community, taking up porches, and work areas alike.

They had gathered in the one central meeting spot of the community. It was delineated by three concentric rings of stone that looked as though they had been there for a hundred years or more. A soft cushion of moss had, over time, crept along the tops of the stones, providing a comfortable place to sit for the large crowd. At the center, a large bonfire was lit, keeping the chill of the early spring away from those gathered. Often, it was used as a place from which the elders and wisemen of the community made the decisions that would lead them into the next season. But tonight, the gathering had been a celebration of Raum and her three companions. The rite performed in the grove was a hallmark step towards becoming one of the central pillars of the community.

She had sat before the rows of people, and alongside Baodan, her closest friend, had recited an ancient incantation to accept the grace of the Hallowed pantheon and the Creator, as vessels for balancing the natural world. Afterwards, they had each received the mark of the druids, a small tattoo in blue ink. The tattoo resembled an elongated spiral that stretched from their shoulder, down their upper arm, and ended before reaching their elbow. At the central point of the swirl, a small symbol, representative of their tree in the grove was tattooed in black ink. It was something that she would cherish forever, a reminder of her bond to these people.

Now, she sat on the dirt roof of her barrow, Baodan beside her. She had watched as the Elder of Marks bestowed on him the symbol of an evergreen pine. She thought it too was as fitting as her own; a representation of Baodan’s resilience, dedication, and unflinching spirit. He was always proud to be involved with the community, often giving far more than he received. Regardless of difficult times, or changes in season, he was there, dependable and resilient. He was Raum’s best friend and confidant. Earlier in their childhood, they had teased one another with the idea of becoming more than friends in their adulthood. But, nothing ever blossomed from this idea. Both recognized the bond they had was special, but romantic attraction was never something that sparked up between them. In a way, she was glad about this, and she sensed he was too. There was something relieving in just being around one another without the expectations and pressures of romance to cloud the interaction.

Both had a wooden bowl filled with steaming hot stew. The meat appeared to be chicken and the remainder of the ingredients appeared to be wild roots and mushrooms grown in the moist darkhouses of the community’s farmers. Pickled vegetables also swam in the brown broth, but less than Ruam liked. She wanted to taste the sharp stab of pickled fiber and brine, but there was only so much as would add a light tangy flavor to the soup. Not everyone in the community liked the acidic taste of the brine as much as she did. 

“I will be glad when soup isn’t the staple of our diet anymore.”

She giggled her agreement, a bit of hot liquid dribbling down her chin. She spoke with her mouth full of hot chicken and a bit of dense bread, “I know what you mean. It will be nice to get something a bit more solid for a while.”

“So, now that you’re going to be one of the druid apprentices, anyone tickle your fancy?”

This time it wasn’t a giggle, but a gurgle that escaped Raum’s lips, as she half choked on her last bite of stew. She knew that was the intended effect, but it still made her blush. Thankfully, her skin didn’t change shades all that much. It never stopped Baodan from knowing that he had landed a successful one-liner though. He always said that she blushed with her eyes, rather than with flushed cheeks.

“Baodan!”

“What?” He feigned innocence, like a child offended at a scolding from a parent. “You’ll be one of the adults. About time you found someone you liked.”

It was a complicated feeling inside Raum. Being such a small community, she knew nearly all of the young men in the village by name. But none of them appealed to her in any romantic sense. There was always something missing from the interactions, she felt. And no one had pursued her in all her years in the community. She recognized it was likely due to her obvious difference in heritage. Occasionally she had heard comments made by some of the older men and women in the village, the fathers and mothers of prospective loves. They would reference darkness and omens, and other storied comments related to her.

As a child it had hurt, badly. She remembered sitting around fires with a group of children at the week’s end, listening to folktales and bedtime stories from the elders. In these stories, they told of a great war that had been fought between the Heavens and the Void. The Hallowing War, they called it. It was a war that had spilled across the lands of the Continent with an unearthly rage, consuming as much as it could with every fell step. Eventually, an alliance of the Heavens and the races of the Continent repelled the beasts, sending them back to the Seven Hells. But some creatures lingered, living on in the dark corners of the world. Sometimes the stories they told would be more specific; folklore and legends about these mysterious and vile creatures. Looking back, she knew that many of them were a means of instilling good behaviors in little children. Don’t go into the woods alone. Don’t eat random things from the ground. Mind your elders. But in each of them, the creatures used as a motivating force always bore a strong resemblance to Raum in one form or another. Sometimes it was a pair of horns. Sometimes a tail, or glowing eyes. In these moments, Raum would always become painfully aware of her place in the community. She was accepted, but only to an extent. The most memorable of these moments was when all the children would look at her and scream, having just heard of what they assumed to be her kin. Who knows, maybe they weren’t wrong.

That’s why she had spent so much time learning. She knew every herb and flower in the nearby woods, and could recall a tome of information on each one at a moment’s notice. She knew how to make ointments and salves, how to cultivate crops, how to reduce a fever, and deliver a child. She spent so much time learning, that she had largely forgotten about the other young adults in the community. That was, with the exception of Baodan. He had always been a friend, standing up for her when others wouldn’t. Whenever she would hole herself up in her studies, he would be the one to instigate her taking a break and enjoying life outside the old texts she poured over every day. He had even helped her build her barrow over the last year, helping to saw the timber and build the interior structure. He was a good friend.

“No. I haven’t!” She still responded with a twinge of defense. She knew he was being half playful, but that there was a serious question in the background. She thought to turn the tables a little, “But I’ve seen you with Milica as of late. Do I sense a budding romance there?”

Unlike Raum, Baodan’s blush was substantially more pronounced. He just laughed softly, slightly embarrassed, “Have we been that obvious?”

“A little. I think that’s okay though. She’s a good girl. Very pretty, too.” She nudged his arm playfully with her elbow. He had set the bowl of soup down beside him, but even if he’d been holding it, Raum doubted she’d really be able to shake his core with a light nudge. He was as tough as a brick wall. However, his retaliatory push of her head with his hand sent her wobbling, and a bit of hot soup spilled over onto her hand.  She laughed.

“She is beautiful, I’ll admit.”

“You two planning on carrying things forward? I’m not the only one who’s an adult tonight. You’re one of the rangers now.”

“I think so.” He looked sideways at her, smiling. It was a content smile.

“Good. I’m happy for you.” She winced a little as she lifted her freshly tattooed right arm to wrap around her friend’s shoulder. She gave him a long hug, resting her head on his shoulder. “Just make sure she knows I won’t be losing my friend in all this. She’ll just have to make it a trio.”

He just laughed.

They sat like that for a long while, just staring at the large bonfire in the center of the village, soaking up the orange glow that it cast on the blackened night around them. They listened to the joyful squeals of children running rampant through the villagers, playing all manner of games. They took in the strong aroma of the food, and listened to the people talking loudly and laughing at all manner of stories and conversations. It was a good night, and one that Raum knew she would remember forever.