After having been brought back to the edge of the clearing by Vol, Niko had simply waited for his companions to return from their own meetings with the entity that was older and more powerful than virtually anything Niko had ever imagined. He distracted himself by pondering at the strangeness of the essence around him, pointedly trying not to think of how he might have been magically compelled to calmness during their meeting. There were, Niko admitted, many things that would probably never fully sit well with him in this life. Anything influencing his mental state would obviously be regarded with wariness, but he’d also be the first to say that not everything that affected the mind was a bad thing.

His first nest, afterall, had been a mental sanctuary that helped him get through and adjust to this new way of life.

‘On that note, though… This much essence in the environment is making for some pecking, trippy moments.’ Niko’s eyes followed a leaf as it floated through the air, the essence contained within both it and the space around it making it seem somehow hyper real. Color and form was sharper than it seemed like it should be, and the harder he concentrated on it the more he could see. It wasn’t as though he could see it more clearly, but more like it was somehow more than just a regular leaf. He couldn’t ascribe more meaning to it than that, but it certainly made him curious about what would happen in the parts of the world with more essence.

Niko’s thoughts were interrupted when he saw the first people seemingly appear from nothing around him. There wasn’t even a noticeable flicker of essence; one moment he was alone on the edge of the clearing, and the next he was surrounded by his group and the Gilded Feathers. He was about to greet them when the aura of the atmosphere around them changed. Niko felt his feathers stand on end as a feeling of being wholly out of place crashed into his brain.

Sharply, the words Crowe and Vol spoke to him came into focus, and Niko felt his mind blur at the edges. It was as though he could feel the world around him, reaching into Greenleaf, the Evergreen, the Eldergreen, the distant Daurghast, and further still away from him into the Primordial Green. The distance was immense, far greater than he could really begin to fully understand himself. Yet, he felt that the intrinsic purpose of this had nothing to do with what he could see and comprehend.

He felt himself in this space, but was distantly aware that another place existed besides his own. It was strange that he could feel them, a group of eight flares both an impossible distance to his awareness, yet somehow within reach of his senses. He instinctively could identify five of them, kindred souls belonging to his siblings, and so assumed the three with them were the ex-Oath Sworn. Niko turned his attention back to the space around him as the fabric of reality seemingly rippled at the touch of other beings he knew.

Mind after mind touched against his own, each familiar in at least a shallow way, but already with more of a sense of closeness to Niko than he’d thought he’d experience again. Each awareness was as wide and far-reaching as his own. He could almost make out his own ‘mind’ in this strange dream-like state, a twisting and churning orange-gold inferno with streaking gemstones of feathers on the body of something resembling Niko. Yet, beneath the gems lay shattered and swirling dust-like pieces of himself, fragments of memories and dreams that moved gently with him glittering all the while, casting him in an almost ethereal glow.

The next mind he sensed was green and blue, with branches shooting outwards from a spiraling core that resembled Skye, if she didn’t look so much like a dryad than an elf. Her expression was one filled with a fearful sort of determination, with claws in place of fingers made of deep green wood.

Another of the minds looked and felt like a robust steel shelled golem, whose large body housed a warm hearth, a place of protection and peace. The likeness of Ronald was clear on the metal man however, a powerful tower shield in one hand, and a glaive in the other.

An acidic, crackling almost-cauldron roiled loudly, drawing Niko’s attention to the metallic oversized pot. Claw-foot stands held and moved the alchemical equipment while mercury sprites, a duo, whipped their flexible and amorphous limbs back and forth for ingredients and tools. One looked like a wizened old woman with a deep set frown, and the other was a younger gnome that Niko recognized as Mithel, with a wide, mischievous smile on her gnomish features.

The last was a visage of bruised purple and reddish shadows that twisted around a two-sided mask, one side of which was a disdain filled expression, and the other a warm and jovial smile that was as inviting as it was enthralling. The figure was wrapped heavily in shredded and bloody finery on its disdainful half, while it wore clean patchwork made from rough cloth on the other; careless feet trod upon gold, silver, and gemstones warped into sharp forms like caltrops, daggers, or goblets overflowing with spoiled wine. Niko had to do a double take upon realizing that this was Dachna; he didn’t really know the man at all, it seemed.

Each of them were laid bare to one another, Niko himself was unafraid and unapologetic for who he was. He'd been through enough getting to this point and he wasn't going to feel shy now. For several seconds, they stood together, overlapping minds that drank deeply of what they could sense and see.

“I see you,” Niko felt his soul tremble as words from all around them reverberated through the space, “I witness you and all you are. Let this be your epoch, that you shall be known as one, to tread upon the pilgrimage for power, for peace, for glory. To claim, to protect, to persevere, your will be done,” Niko felt a deep part of his soul resonate with the words, and Niko startled as he realized who was talking to them.

“I call upon ye, name yourselves to this humble witness, that you may mark your path for eons to come.” The world around them lifted them up, as though the forests, distant mountains, rivers, plains, and every piece of reality waited with expectation.

“I am Niko, The Miracle Seed, The Ravaging End.”

“I am Skye, The Grovekeeper of Allgreen.”

“I am Ronald, The Centurion of Hearth’s Steel.”

“I am Mithel, The Twin-Souled Alchemist.”

“I am Dachna, The Reveler of Treasured Lies and Disavowed Truths.”

“We are the Wyldwalkers of The Pilgrimage.”

Niko felt something click into focus around them all, and in the next moment an overload of information poured through their minds.

“I hereby witness you, Wyldwalkers. Go forth and embark upon your pilgrimage, and prove yourselves worthy of your names.”

As the words faded, Niko felt his consciousness fade to black, a slumber of deep weariness that didn’t allow even the slightest resistance.

Then, the lightest touch of Alterra graced upon him, with a whispered and later half-remembered, “Grow well, little one…” to set him aloft into sleep.

—--------------------------

Crowe waited patiently as the two groups of young men and women appeared before him. They stayed standing for several seconds, before all at once they collapsed, like puppets with their strings cut. Even before Crowe could move to help, he felt the essence of the air around them harden enough to slow their fall gently.

He exchanged a look with his sister, whose gaze met his own for the first time in the hour that the entire process had taken. Truth be told, it was the longest initiation he’d ever heard of, and he would have been lying if he said he hadn’t been worried. Yet, here they lay, before him and in one piece.

For several seconds, still, no one moved. Oum, Crowe, Camille, and the shadowing guards that had come with them at a respectable distance, felt that all was not yet done. There was a strange sensation thick in the air, the essence tasted heavier, more meaningful. Crowe had never felt essence pressure him the way it was now, and he’d been to some of the most essence dense places on the continent.

When the essence swirled in the air, and the Grovetender appeared just as suddenly as their charges, Crowe did his best not to flinch. Normally, he could at least tell when something was going to move through essence like that, but apparently not for the Grovetender.

The stooped old figure, whether he truly be man or not, lifted his head fractionally as though listening to a distant voice. His form shook, and Crowe distantly felt some kind of titanic ebb and flow of essence in the Grovetender’s body. Whoever the Druid claimed to be, he was far more powerful than he’d ever bothered demonstrating. Crowe counted himself and Guildmaster Orson lucky that he was more than happy–or as close to it as he figured the man could be–to induct new individuals on the pilgrimage. If he hadn’t been, there wasn’t a thing they could have really done about it to change his mind.

With a voice like a groaning tree, the Grovetender spoke, his face hidden under a deep, moss-covered hood, “Their Pilgrimage has commenced. The Wyldwalkers and the Gilded Feathers are witnessed by The Great Mother from this day forth. You may take them from this place now.”

As soon as the man finished speaking, he vanished, and Crowe felt his insides unclench slightly as his subconscious relaxed. Crowe immediately turned his attention to one of his companions, “Oum, when you are done getting the Gilded Feathers team to their destination, could I bother you to come back and obscure our path to and from the city entirely?”

The plan had initially been to leave just the Greenh–no, the Wyldwalkers path visible for anyone curious, but given the fact that the Grovetender had shown his face, let alone spoken to them, meant that they would take extra precautions from thereon.

“Done. I’ll get a few teams running to contaminate the trail further.” Oum was deadly serious as he gestured to the Gilded Feathers, a group of men wordlessly, and perhaps a bit more briskly than necessary, picked them up and began to carry them to where they’d hidden another form of transportation.

“When you get back to town, tell Orson that I’m going to be running reconnaissance, yeah? Just… just in case.” Oum nervously shuffled, and Crowe couldn’t fault the man in the slightest.

“Will do. I know I do not need to tell you, but… be safe, and be careful.” Crowe cautioned the man.

Quickly, Oum and his people spirited away the Gilded Feathers. Crowe and Camille would have preferred to give them time to awaken and say their farewells, but circumstances being as they were, they would leave nothing to chance.

“The damn Grovetender showed.” Camille spoke as she hefted Niko over her broad shoulders.

“Yes.” Answered Crowe as he watched his attendants collect the rest of the Wyldwalkers.

“And he spoke, Crowe.” She continued on, her excited and wild expression only growing.

“Yes, Sister, I was, indeed, there as well. You are getting somewhere with this?” Crowe felt his eyebrow twitch as he desperately wished she would just get on with it.

She positively glowed and with a smile that was all teeth, said, “They’re going to be so fucked on this pilgrimage! Hah! I thought ours was bad, whoooooweee! They’re gonna–”

Crowe tuned her out with an aggrieved expression on his face. He would never hear the end of it if he engaged her at all. It wasn’t as though she were laughing at the young pilgrims, more that she was laughing at how ridiculous their pilgrimage was going to be if it needed the Grovetender to announce it.

“Camille,” he cut her off, “Do not tell them. We may need to suggest some harder training, but refrain from making them any more wary than they should be.”

She snorted, “Of course, I’m not a fool, Crowe. I’m aware that their ignorance is only going to be helpful in the early stages.”

Crowe nodded gratefully at that. If they played their cards right, the Wyldwalkers would know as little as possible about the inner workings of the pilgrimage going forward. Any attempts at planning around the ‘rules’ of the pilgrimage often ended in much more complicated circumstances. Hopefully, that wouldn’t happen any time soon.

As they loaded their unconscious charges into the cart and set off back to the city, Crowe couldn’t help but wish them the best.

‘Hopefully, Niko’s Chosen status is a boon, and not a bane… Not many ordinary people can keep up with even the least of the Chosen.’ Crowe worried silently to himself. Either way, the amount of free aid they could provide them from here on out would be very low. A pilgrim had to make their own way, afterall.

“Man, their meeting with the Baron is going to just suck.”

“Camille, I beg of you, please stop talking.”