Do you know why they call me the God of Eloquence? Because this massive club I carry is called Eloquence—when it speaks, everyone listens with awe. I’ve yet to come across a scheme more successful than my Eloquence.

~Ogma, God of Eloquence and Inspiration

Duncan clan’s ancestral grounds, west of Father Oak…

“You damned woman! Who else did you subvert behind my back?” Malcolm Teonet roared and slammed Ness Rulaney into a wall. Fire crawled over his fist like a glove as he prepared to crush her foolish head in. “I never agreed to kill the boy. Give me one reason I shouldn’t take your fool head off.”

Ness sneered and ignored the question. “What is done is done. You are tied together with us. Kenneth wants him gone for what he did to Munro. No matter, this result works too. We crippled the boy and don’t even have to act from the shadows to disgrace him now.”

“Explain yourself,” Kenneth, Duncan’s clan head, spoke for the first time.

“He has his Source, he attended the hunt, and he’ll attend Winterfinding for his reward from the hunt and for his aptitude testing. He doesn’t have a choice…”

“How does that help anything?” Cameron asked. Malcolm was pretty sure the man was having an affair with Ness. The two did nothing apart, not that many knew about their relationship. It was happening well before Conall killed Ness’s husband.

“After the testing, he is recognized by the Druid Order.”

Malcolm wanted to smash her annoying face in, but he backed away from her. Regardless of what he wanted to do, Kenneth and Cameron wouldn’t let him kill the woman. “Stop playing your stupid games, whore. Spit it out.”

Ness froze, and Cameron tensed. Both of them turned toward Malcolm, ready to kill him.

“Enough. Malcolm is right. Stop this foolishness,” Kenneth said. “Explain your plan or shut up.”

“It means we don’t have to act directly. Just send the younger generation after Crow through Honor Duels. Offer some gold as an incentive for others to submit a grievance, too. As a cripple, the boy can’t fight back. The younger generation can just beat him to within an inch of his life. Again and again and again. Eventually, the boy will crack and flee Oiche in disgrace. Once his spirit is broken, we all win. Your boy, Munro, can take part too, let him get his pound of flesh.”

“That is actually a sensible plan.”

“How? There are only so many grievances,” Malcolm snorted, thinking the idea was perverse and stupid.

“It is simple,” Ness’s lips curved upward into a sinister smile. “Crow doesn’t know when to back down, so we can send others to start fights with him. We can target the Maddox clan’s younger generation and that Song girl, which seem to be weak spots. It won’t take much to get him to act. His foolishness will lead to his own troubles, nothing that they can blame on us. Plus, we have people in the group that evaluates those grievances, so it won’t take much to pass them through.”

Kenneth stopped her and turned toward Malcolm. “How about it?”

Malcolm Teonet looked about at the other clan heads present. There were ten clans involved, but six were minor ones with little power or prestige. The boy was in trouble, and Malcolm found himself frowning. The boy angered and humiliated him, but not enough to warrant all this. They had already crippled the boy. At this point, it felt like kicking an injured dog. The schemes against the boy already toyed with karma and fate.

Malcolm’s anger initially had nothing to do with Crow. It was Esme’s betrothal that turned him against the Maddox clan. Neither his father nor Niall consulted him about his own daughter’s marriage. If he could, he would have destroyed the agreement and already set a wedding date for Esme and Munro.

It was further complicated because Niall had saved his father’s life, so he was the Teonet clan’s benefactor. And turning against the Maddox clan out of pettiness was bound to have a nasty karmic backlash. Malcolm was always rational, so he wasn’t sure how he got this deep into this mess.

“Count me out,” Malcolm finally said. “Kenneth, I’ll deal with my own problems from here on out, but our agreement stands. You know what Maddox did for us, I can’t be part of this.”

“Don’t regret breaking ties wi—”

“Shut up, bitch. Everyone knows you are singing this tune because Crow’s father singlehandedly ruined your clan. I don’t fear you or those pathetic elders that hid in Oiche to avoid Conall’s wrath. Well deserved, by the way. I’m only here because of my connection with the Duncan clan. You went too far when you went behind my back and marred my clan’s honor. Make your puny threats again, and I’ll finish what Conall started.”

“Go,” Kenneth said. “It is best you don’t hear any more of this.”

Malcolm nodded and left the building, got on his Elkan beast, and rode out of there.

“Fucking lunatics.”

***

Eastern Sacred Grove several days later…

Crow awoke looking up through the boughs of sparse forest and could barely make out the much larger canopy overhead. He didn’t move for an unknown amount of time. Despite living in a burning nightmare day and night, his body didn’t shake, his eyes weren’t dull, but he felt like the oldest man in existence. Beset by the unrelenting black flames, he couldn’t decide which hurt more, being awake or asleep.

Sighing, he let out a shaky breath and actually felt good. At least curse hadn’t ravaged his body yet, and his breathing seemed less ragged. He wasn’t sure why those things stuck out to him, but a morbid curiosity arose. Letting out a sliver of his Source, it was like tossing wood shavings into a dying fire, and those black flames flared up and danced excitedly. The channels he used to distribute mana felt swollen, which weakened his entire body.

Controlling his breathing, he held back the worst of it, but the curse was too tyrannical.

“You going to lie there all day?” Mugna asked, and Crow could see his clear eyes and his bark-like face slide into his view. A frown graced the old man’s face. “Tsk… Not so easily dealt with, this curse.”

A gnarled hand pressed down on Crow’s chest, and he could feel Mugna’s cooling energy enter his body, soothing away the inflammation and pain. It also allowed the man to view the curse in more detail.

“Am I dying?” Crow’s voice came out hoarse and barely above a whisper.

“Do you want to die?” Mugna replied.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Grievances must be repaid.”

“Passable answer, but that’s not enough. You can’t live for the actions of others because that is a poor excuse to live. You were wronged, you’ve been hurt, your parents taken… I understand your drive, but it’s based on actions others have taken against you, not on a desire that belongs in here,” Mugna tapped Crow’s chest. “So why? Why do you want to live?”

Crow closed his eyes and thought about it. Knowing what he wanted to do was easy, but figuring out who he wanted to become was not. Did he even know his own limits or the extremes he’d go to for success? He didn’t, but he knew he didn’t want to be a murdering tyrant unless he lacked a choice. People around him were in constant danger and—

“There it is, speak.”

“I want to protect those I care about.”

“That’s a noble cause. Honorable and worthy of a Druid. So, do you want to die?”

“No.”

“Then you’ll fight?”

“Yes, but—”

“No. If you choose to fight, then you choose to kill, but if you are doing it to protect, then you need a code. All knights have one, and it is the shield that protects them from karma’s wrath.”

“I have a code of sorts,” Crow muttered.

“Oh? What is it?”

“To bear no enmity toward those who do not harm me.”

“Childish,” Munro snorted. “What about those who harm innocents, just because they can? What about those who would abuse power to take women they want? What about those who choose to perform perverse deeds to gain more power? Will you watch or become their shield too?”

Crow flushed. On the one hand, he said he wanted to protect and then contradicted himself. Borrowing trouble and creating karmic links was both good and bad. Based on what he understood about the heavens, karma was another way to track him. An empty spot at the center of a karma conflux meant something was that that shouldn’t exist. It was something the heavens couldn’t ignore.

“You see the problem now, child? You want to defy the heavens, yet you hesitate to walk your path because you fear them. You ask if you are dying, and I pose this to you because you ask the wrong question. The real question is, is the foundation of the path you follow strong enough to get you through what is coming or are you going to crumble?”

“I was wrong.”

“You aren’t wrong,” Mugna sighed. “You are just young. The problem is you don’t have time to learn through mistakes. Unfated always have a tumultuous life, filled with struggle and pain. These are things you need to embrace. You aren’t a sword against the heavens, but the bulwark. The thing you must do is endure—take all that abuse and make it part of your shield. Then absorb and learn all you can from it, so you grow stronger.”

“But a shield can only defend, how am I—”

“You are wrong. A shield in the right hands is also a devastating weapon.”

“Are we talking about a shield or a Shield?” Crow asked after a moment.

“Both. Neither. So answer my first question… do you want to die?

“No.”

“Why?”

Crow sorted his thoughts once more, locking on something that Mugna said that resonated with him. “People, cultivator or not, need a knight. No… a symbol. I’m not strong enough to protect them all on my own, but if I can start something greater than myself. I—” Crow felt a pressure growing in him, something he had no experience recognizing, but the older generation would realize it as Crow taking a step along his path. It left him breathless and a little panicky.

Mugna smiled, recognizing the boy’s epiphany.

“I want to live and become the first Druid of the Shield. A bulwark for all people to stand behind, no matter race, creed, or cultivation ability.”

“But you’re crippled.”

“I’ll become stronger.”

“It’s a better answer, a solid start. A little audacious to call yourself a Druid of the Shield, but I like it,” Mugna laughed. “Arrogance is sometimes necessary for conviction, but don’t fall victim to its complacency.”

“I understand.”

“Before we talk about your curse, know that Ryan was a Rulaney.”

“You knew this?”

“I did. But remember, I can’t predict anything about you. More than that, you are borrowing more problems. Ryan dropped out of the clan to become the disciple of a master assassin. One of his star pupils. You should have remained silent about the boy’s death, but you are weak enough that they may just ignore you. It’s more shameful to admit you killed the boy at this point.”

“That isn’t nice…” Crow muttered.

“Now, about your curse. Forming a Shield and the trials of the tower were all to protect you from curses. There was a legendary entity that killed or controlled through curses, and the Draoidh were warriors who climbed the tower to fight against this entity and push it back out into the void. It was this power that also led to their fall.”

“Yes, except I don’t have a Shield.”

“No, you sure don’t. My point is, it protects and strengthens your soul. There are a lot of benefits to it, but its primary purpose was to block curses. The problem is, curing curses became a lost art. I haven’t even found any texts on it at all, and only a single mention of a sect called Naofa that might aid you,” Munro explained. “Come sit up. I’ll bring out some food so you can eat. I even have some tea that I’ll give you that contains ice mana within it. It will help with the heat inside you.”

Crow did just that, and by the time he climbed off the vine and leaf bed, which was surprisingly comfortable, Mugna had set the table. Food and drinks adorned it, so Crow sat down and nibbled on some fruit. The curse made it feel like he had constant heartburn, so his appetite wasn’t great.

“Now, a Shield supposedly doesn’t stop the curse but dissolves it, provided the curse doesn’t kill you before the Shield has a chance at succeeding. You could consider your curse a blessing since it’s not killing you yet, but it’s also a soul curse. If I were to rank curses, soul curses are the worst and hardest to remove. Soul curses usually won’t kill you, but make you wish you were dead. That elder didn’t lie to you about that.”

“How do we fix it? That sect you were talking about?”

“Soul Burn is the name of the curse you have, and it’s fairly new comparatively. People use it in the tower to solidify their foundations and to cleanse their mana. With a Shield, it only lasts a few hours, but very few people use it more than once. Hell, they might be crazy trying it even once, or like your father, who used it at least seven times. But even he didn’t cultivate with it longer than thirty minutes at a time.”

“I’m confused. Is it a good thing?”

“Definitely bad. Yet not so bad at this stage. It targets your cultivation method, which is why most people use it on themselves, because how would a stranger know your method? Except, Druid clans use a derivative of the same cultivation method. As long as the person has knowledge of it, they can curse you—”

“Are you saying a Druid did this to me?”

“Or someone gave an outsider our method. I think the red-robed man was a Druid because he only cursed you after he found out your identity—he obviously knows your mother, so he might be linked to Conall too.”

“Alright, but does this help me in any way? Can this information be used to cure me?”

“Crow, take a breath before you lose control. Another upside is that you don’t have a foundation, not really. So the curse won’t hit you as hard as it’s refining what little mana you have in your Source. If we can get you to form a Shield, I can’t even imagine the number of benefits you’ll receive.”

“Yeah, but it sounds like you are saying it’s impossible.”

“This is where the trouble comes in. You must stop using Druid cultivation methods. Before you get upset, it’s a minor setback, and once you have your Shield, you can switch back. If you try to use the Druid method, you’ll fully activate the curse.”

“So what method should I use?”

“Damn kid, you think it’s that easy to get a cultivation method. Most nations protect their methods and kill anyone that steals them or uses them without their permission. Why do you think most cultivators do closed-door cultivation? The thing is, I could have the Druid Council scour libraries, public and hidden, but I doubt they’d find one. Worse, even if we found someone selling one, the price would be astronomical. The Druid Council would never purchase one for you.”

“What do I do? Visit that hidden sect?”

“You can’t visit that sect, it’s inside the tower’s basement, and you aren’t strong enough to make that journey. The Naofa sect is in the outer northwestern region. It’s practically a forbidden zone.”

“Then why do you think they can help?”

“Because they call mana holy power. Curses use dark energy, and holy uses light. It should be the antithesis of curses. The problem is they are very mysterious, and the chances of them helping are very low.”

“Why bother then if I can just form my Shield—”

“That’s the other bad news, even with your Shield, I don’t think it’ll dissolve it now. You went through a space tunnel while cursed, which is essentially a tear through the void or chaos. It somehow fused it tightly to your soul, and I don’t think a Shield is enough to dissolve it anymore. Holy power might, though.”

“So you are saying it can’t be cured?” Crow felt tears rolling down the sides of his face, promising to himself he’d beat this. His resolve felt firm and his willpower strong, but he wasn’t sure it was enough.

“I do not know. Karma, fate, the heavens, or whatever cosmic guide that exists, always provides a way. You could become a mortal and live out a normal life, have kids, and grow old. Let go of the past enmities. Not even your parents would begrudge you that. But we both know you won’t do that,” Mugna sighed. “Stop being so dramatic, kid. You have two years until the Shield trial. I’m not saying you can’t travel Nialas, which is the zero floor’s actual name or the Tower’s Basement. We just need to find you a wandering master that will take you.”

“It can be any method other than a Druids?” Crow asked, remembering something important.

“Yes, but don’t get your hopes up. You have to understand how sacred a cultivation method is.”

“Song Lin,” Crow said after some thought. “She’ll help.”

“This… are you certain? Isn’t she a ward of the Morrison clan?”

“Honestly, she owes a life debt to my parents, and the only reason she stays at the Morrison clan is that they owe a life debt to the Song sister’s parents. If I ask, she’ll help and even come live with us. So please do not involve the council. It’d be better if no one knew. That way, we don’t implicate the Druid Order.”

“You’d still look after the order, even after the way you’ve been treated?” Mugna felt some joy and surprise at this boy’s decisions.

“I’ll find justice for the wrongdoings, but I don’t believe the Order is at fault. This all started with the Rulaney clan, and they’ve definitely crossed my bottom line. It is obvious they were behind Belgae and Teonet’s actions.”

“I don’t think Teonet has any dealings with Belgae or Rulaney—not directly. Rather, they are linked with Duncan. So four of the nine original clans are targeting you? If that’s true, this is worse than I thought.”

“Can’t get much worse. By now, they all know I’m unfated. Not much I can do to keep that a secret. I suspect they’ve known all along.”

“Yes, they know. I am limited in my actions for reasons I cannot divulge for now. So once more, I ask you to endure.”

“I can abide for now, mostly because I’m crippled,” Crow said bitterly. “Patience is king. Their sin is too great, and if they continue, it’ll be a sin the entire order has to bear. For the sake of my ancestors, I will not allow that.”

Mugna said nothing for a time.

“Alright, I’ve said what I needed to say, and it sounds like your spirit isn’t defeated yet. If you suffer too greatly, come here to cultivate. I may not aid you much, but I can at least soothe the fire in your body, heart, and mind,” Mugna smiled at Crow as if remembering something. “Oh, that Mara girl is fierce, and she visited while you were out. Well done winning that girl over.”

Crow grinned and nodded, thinking about that crazy woman. She was willing to die for him, and it wasn’t something he’d ever forget. Standing up, he felt refreshed, his body rejuvenated. However, he knew his Source was always one breath away from igniting. It was only a matter of time before the roasting began once more. After getting to his feet, he pushed back his sagging shoulders and felt he had a direction, a goal.

“Take this,” Mugna handed over a sash with wooden trinkets woven into it. “Tie it around your head while you sleep, with that center trinket on the center of your forehead. It’ll soothe your mind while you sleep. I’ll think of other ways to help you if I can. Gavin is working on some ideas too.”

“Thank you, grandpa Mugna,” Crow said, bowing to the man before turning to go.

“May the root nourish you, and the limb protect you,” Mugna said to the boy’s departing back. The comment was a salutation from an ancient time. More shocking was Crow turning around with a fist on his chest.

“By root and limb, this one serves.” And promptly disappeared into the forest.

“A Druid who honors the old ways. Where did he even learn the appropriate reply to that?” Mugna muttered, feeling confident that the greeting did not exist in any written document. It was a mystery, and Mugna sat there for days pondering whether the boy was already tapping into his legacy or if it was just a coincidence. “Dammit. Soul Burn is going to ruin that boy.”

He felt frustrated for the first time in ten thousand years. Angry, even. The most promising Druid in thousands of years, and they ruined him. Mugna had remained optimistic in front of the boy, but the truth was the curse scared even him. Had he not rooted, he would have gone and destroyed the damned blood sect. In the past, he devoured trash like that.

Mugna’s anger caused Father Oak to shift as if he wanted to uproot itself and charge the tower to find the Blood Ember Sect. The northern continent shook, and every cultivator turned towards Father Oak with awe and fear.