Mortal life is fleeting, like a song. Some songs are short and sweet, some bitter, and some filled with longing or hate. Occasionally, a song comes along like a bolt lighting, smashing through every barrier and preconceived notion about life, love, or hate. A song so powerful that it changes you for hearing it. My mortal friend, when you hear that song, you’ll know. The best part is... you won’t even need to know how to dance because you’ll realize you always knew what to do.

~Taliesin, God of Rhapsody

~Patron God of the Bards

“Crow!” Conall called out. “We still have something to do. Tell Xue’er goodbye. They are staying for dinner so you can see her tonight.”

“Good,” Crow said with a smile. He waved his hand almost directly in the little girl’s face, and Xue’er backed up with a scrunched-up look.

“Eww, your hand is dirty. Dirty boys are gross.”

“Nuh-uh. Papa told cousin Brian that he couldn’t be a man unless he got his hands dirty. See, I’m a man. Bye.” Crow said and pumped his legs to catch up to his father.

A beautiful giggle echoed over the courtyard, and by Crow’s innocent face, he didn’t see the look of embarrassment in his father’s eyes.

“Kid, don’t go telling people the things I say,” Conall grumbled.

“Why? Papa is smart and strong. I’m gonna remember everything papa says. Then I’ll be smart and strong!” Crow’s smile stretched from ear to ear as if thinking about it. Conall stared at his boy in shock, not sure how to reply. Instead, he picked up his son and hugged him. “Papa also says a man should marry a woman with a beautiful laugh. Aunty Lin has a beautiful laugh. I’ll marry her.”

Conall choked in shock, and Song Lin’s laughter grew even louder. She held onto her sides, and her head tilted forward as she tried to get a breath.

“No. Crow is my friend.” Song Xue angrily stomped her foot.

“I’ll marry you too,” Crow said matter-of-factly.

Conall shook his head, not sure what to say.

“Uhmm, see you later,” he told Song Lin and powered his legs with his Source to run away. “Where the hell are you learning this stuff, kid? I didn’t tell you any of those things.”

“You said them. You did.” Crow nodded his head and spoke in a severe tone. “I heard them.”

It slowly dawned on Conall that his son had followed him around for the last year, and with the boy’s Druid bloodline, Crow would remember every bit of advice Conall gave the younger generation. He felt a headache coming on and tried to recall everything he had said about life, women, and more.

He’d known the boy awakened the bloodline by the gold and green eyes, the memory, and his innate ability to sense the natural order in things. Crow wasn’t unique, but the diluted bloodline was awakening less and less. Climbing the tower had the added benefit of purifying awakened bloodlines, renewing it for future generations, but only if they climbed high enough. If a clan was declining, like the Maddox clan, it was because their bloodline was thinning too much. In the last two centuries, Crow was the only Maddox that had awakened.

The Druid Order would already consider Crow a Bard—a title that carried prestige. Bards had one requirement: the Sage’s Mind, which was a perfect memory of the awakened. The title alone would allow the kid to access many of the hidden libraries.

Ovate, Druid, and ArchDruid were the three titles granted to cultivators. Opening one’s Source allowed a person to call themselves a cultivator and become an Ovate. Creating the Shield graduated the cultivator from Ovate to Druid. An ArchDruid was a Druid that reached the fortieth floor and gained their Iron Shield.

He didn’t show it outwardly, but he feared for his son. The vultures were waiting to take down the Maddox clan, and if they knew about Crow… Already they were circling, and if it wasn’t for Conall, Luthais, Niall, and a few old monsters that wouldn’t die, who all had power beyond the norm, Maddox might already be at war.

The only upside to all of this was that no one would openly scheme against Crow. The bloodline was too sacred. Besides, Crow could always become a Bard, putting him above all clans and part of none of them. Regardless, it strengthened Conall’s resolve to train the boy to fight.

One secret that Conall buried came from an unexpected place. Gideon, Crow’s grandfather, once talked about the Draoidh—almost as if he’d been there. Conall wouldn’t have believed him, except he saw a page of the ancient text. Draoidh, the original Druids, never accepted inner disciples from unawakened bloodlines. Had Conall lived in ancient times, he’d never step foot in the hallowed halls of Awen Stonehenge. At best, he’d be an outer disciple. That’s the secret his wife’s father told him.

Breaking from his thoughts, Conall realized they’d already arrived at their destination, so he put Crow on the ground and let him explore.

“Papa?” Crow asked, spinning in circles with his big green eyes taking in the entire plaza. “What is this place?”

“This is the Plaza of the Gods—which stretches between the Temple of Mugna and the Arena. These two rows of statues that run up the center of the plaza depict the ancient gods and heroes.”

Crow ran towards the statues that towered into the sky. Floating lanterns scattered across the plaza like the stars in the sky. Each god or hero he stopped in front of, his father stood right behind him.

“We don’t know most of their names.”

“Why not?”

“The plaza, statues, arena, and temple date back to the age of the Draoidh. Not even Father Oak was here. It was a frigid place, and our people only visited for special occasions. The Draoidh left behind a lot of our history when we fled here.”

“But why? Why can we live here now?”

Crow’s intelligence would alarm most people had they known his age. That was why the awakened bloodline was so important.

“Cailleach had her—”

“Whose that?”

“Some call her the Veiled Hag or Goddess of Winter; her story is long and dark. This father, who is never named, had twin daughters, and they fought endlessly—so he cursed them. Bridget is the daughter of spring, and Cailleach, the daughter of winter. One is fair and beautiful, and one appears as a veiled one-eyed hag.”

“So the hag ruled this continent?”

“No, it was unknown if she left or died. She left the Ice Lords—her guardians. If the story is accurate, Mugna and Danu forced them further north, freeing this land of perpetual winter.”

Crow approached the last two statues on the north side of the plaza—closest to the Temple of Mugna. Conall always wondered what most of these gods did to deserve immortalization. The statue pairs posed another interesting question.

“This is Mugna, our spirit guardian that lives inside Father Oak,” Conall explained. “The woman next to him is Danu, his wife, whom we call Mother of the Druids. She is also the patron of motherhood—you should offer a sacrifice to her to keep your mother safe. Our people put Danu and mothers high in their hearts, and her place might rank even higher than Mugna.”

Both these statues faced towards Father Oak and looked upward into its boughs. It made Crow think they always knew that one day a massive oak would exist there. When he looked past his father, he was another enormous building on the far south side of the plaza.

“What’s that?” Crow asked and pointed at the far south end of the plaza.

“That is the Arena, one of the few buildings made entirely of stone. Its existence dates back to the Ancient Era and is nearly indestructible. Even after all this time, we’ve no idea what most of the formations inside that place do.” Conall talked—teaching the kid everything he could. He’d lived on the edge of life and death long enough to sense growing danger. He knew what the meeting today would portend. “ The interior changes, but by default, it has the main entry, and it raises the central arena as a platform to watch the five smaller ones. These small arenas focus on one of the five base elements—Wood, Water, Fire, Stone, and Metal. The terrain is affected, but we aren’t sure if it is real or fake.”

Crow listened as they both walked towards the Temple of Mugna.

“More recently, they found another way to use the Arena; they call it Soul-Linking. It sends your soul to a…dimension of sorts. You can’t die or receive permanent damage inside there, allowing you to go all out when you fight. Out of all the buildings in Oiche, I believe that one is the most mysterious.”

“Are people fighting right now?” Crow wanted to see but settled for looking back at it over his shoulder.

“Yes. A Druid may challenge another one in a Battle of Honor, but they have to submit their grievance through the Druid Council. They’ll evaluate it and send out an official challenge if needed. There are informal challenges, prizefighting, and things like that. The difference is, the honor battles have specific rules and limitations—you cannot reject a challenge. However, kill under Father Oak’s boughs, even in the arena.”

“Yes, papa,” Crow nodded his head vigorously.

“Here we are. This is the Temple of Mugna, and that symbol above the door with the two circles, three lines, and three dots is called the Awen. It is from the Draoidh, and you might come across it as you explore our world and the tower. Don’t ignore it.

“They created the temple from living trees and roots. See the domed roof? It is made from intertwining trees, vines, and other plants. This building is also the only entrance or exit to the Sacred Groves and Portal of Ascension.”

“Papa, can we go to the Sacred Groves?”

“We are going to ask. But do you see that central doorway in the middle there? Do you want to know what it is?”

Crow tapped his lips with a finger while he thought about it. Conall grinned as it was something Ciara used to do.

“Yes.”

Ruffling the boy’s hair, Conall kept talking.

“It is a tunnel, also formed from a hollow root that divides the eastern and western groves. The end of that tunnel has a set of stairs leading into a room about fifty meters wide and just as tall. It houses the Tower Portal.”

“Why is it inside the tree?”

“It is so Mugna can protect us. If anything dangerous attempts to come through that portal, Father Oak will destroy it. He is our god and our guardian.”

“Can we go into the tower?”

“We could, but it is a dangerous place for mortals—people like you that have not yet opened their Source. Besides, you can’t climb the tower until you go through the trial and form your Shield. You’ll understand in another ten years.”

“Okay, papa,” Crow said and pulled Conall into the temple.

Father and son crossed the threshold, and Conall could sense the thick mana all around him. Just breathing it in made him feel cleaner and more clear-headed. It was more potent than any stamina tonic he’d ever used.

“Took you long enough to arrive, Sir Conall.” A wizened old-man approached them.

“Mikail, old friend, you’ve been expecting us?” Conall asked with a furrowed brow and wondered if the guard had already informed them.

“Mugna asked for you and the boy.” Old-man Mikail looked down at Conall’s son and leaned forward to rub the child’s head. “You must be Crow. Guardian Mugna has long been looking forward to speaking with you.”

“The big tree wants to talk to me?” Crow asked with wide eyes.

Council Elder Mikail burst out laughing. “Yes, the big tree would like to speak with you.”

“Mugna is alive?” Conall believed the guardian’s will existed, but thought Mugna had died or ascended long ago.

“He slumbers for long periods, but the abduction of your wife brought him awake. He’s been waiting for you to arrive ever since. Per his request, we’ve prohibited anyone from entering the Eastern Sacred Grove, and when you arrived, he instructed us to send you in. Go on. No one will impede you.”

Father and son stepped through the barrier under Elder Mikail’s watchful eyes. Another elder walked up and watched.

“Is it true?” The elder asked.

“The boy has awakened the Druid bloodline,” Mikail confirmed. “Should we send the Watchers?”

“No. Mugna ordered us not to interfere.”

“But his bloodline—”

“Enough. It is not for us to disobey Father Oak’s orders. He said explicitly that we are not to interfere with the child’s growth, or provide him protection outside the normal things we provide for all the children.”

“This one understands.”

“Cheer up. That does not mean you cannot give the boy gifts. You are an elder of the Maddox clan, are you not? Doting on one of your descendants is allowed.” The elder walked away with a smile, and Mikail stood there, unsure what to say.