A Dahlia grows from a bulb and blooms brilliantly for half a year. Like all things, it eventually wilts and enters a cycle of rebirth. As long as the bulb remains intact, it’ll come back year after year. Strangely, we always praise it for its beauty but rarely give its wilting another thought. That is how you should embrace life, bloom brilliantly, so when you wilt, you leave no sadness behind, only expectation for the coming years.

~Blodeuwedd, Goddess of Flowers and Wisdom

Crow spent the next week inside the Triskelion Archives with Mara as his constant companion. The only time they really talked was when they left to grab something to eat. They frequented the same restaurant for the past week and the elderly couple that ran it knew them by name.

With most of the clans inside Oiche for Yuletide, the city was busy. Despite that, every time Crow and Mara walked in, the owners were quick with a greeting, even spending time with them. Crow felt at peace during that week. He and Mara had discussed many things, including research they were doing. During these outings, they already promised each other to talk, so while they ate and drank, that is what they did. The more he heard about Mara’s life, the angrier he became at Malcolm Teonet. Still, Mara did not harbor hate toward her father but remained sad about how things turned out.

Crow resolved to fix some of her worries. He was to blame for some of them. It was hard to decide on a gift for Mara, so he promised himself to rectify at least one wrong in her life.

When he told her about Barnes and how the man was like a second father to him. Mara sympathized with him, and because he’d been so agitated, she grabbed his hand and traced the scar on his palm. She didn’t know why she did it, but the effect was beyond her imagination. Instantly, Crow’s eyes closed, and he was essentially pacified. All his frustrations slipped away, and he relaxed completely. It shocked her, but then a big smile split her face. The owners, unbeknownst to the two, watched and smiled when they saw this intimate moment.

This week gave Crow insight into the human heart and desires. Everyone wants to belong, feel loved, and experience this calm. Knowing that this was how a person should live only put more pressure on Crow. Oppressive power was the only way to guarantee he could live this kind of life. Free of worry and burdens, free to live in peace. It was like when he was a child running through the woods with his mother, laughing at the world. It was a dream quickly shattered if he wasn’t stronger and more brutal than his enemy. Yet, he couldn’t sacrifice his humanity for this goal either, or he’d have made the journey for naught.

In the archives, Crow finished the books inside the conservatory and went to find others on the topics he felt might fill in gaps of his knowledge. On a whim, he also went into the astrology sections because that was where the librarian said books on mathematics were. At first, he found that strange, but once he saw that most astrology books were about calculating the existences of heavenly bodies within the void, he understood. The void was the ultimate representation of three-dimensional space. Between math and astrology, he felt his understanding of three-dimensional formations had finally started to consolidate. Perspective was a hard thing to gain thinking through the complexity of Celtic Knots.

Celtic Knots differed from formations in that they required preciseness that left little room for error. It made them a hundred times harder to understand than a typical formation. But translating that preciseness to formations showed that the exactness was highly beneficial to both methods. Mathematics was nothing if not precise. Learning of some tools of the trade, especially the compass and protractor, changed his world.

He memorized several shelves of books on Medik related content. However, he didn’t study them. Just stored them for when he had time to really read them. It was a whim that made him pursue the Medik profession, but his main interest was bones. The arena battles made him garner interest, and some might call him crazy for that reasoning. He’d broken hundreds over the last few months, and setting them, feeling them knit, and their subsequent strengthening had intrigued him. However, his interest went far beyond human bones. He found a few books that only discussed the skeletal anatomy of beasts, which was intriguing.

There wasn’t much on wood carving he didn’t already know, but some books on unique tools, styles, and carving methods did catch his eye. Secondarily, he found that the stone carving books were on the same shelf, so he perused those too. Not because he had an interest, but because some woods had an affinity toward stone. So he decided to memorize the basics just in case.

The archives really were a treasure trove, but there was too much here and time too limited. Even the elders weren’t allowed to stay long. It was a rule established so long ago that few knew the reasoning. Crow’s father once told him that under the pressure of time, fate became stronger. It meant that the longer one had in the library, the less likely they’d sense the fate required to find what they really needed. Not that Crow felt any of those urges, but it was a concept he took to heart. It was the reason Mugna made Conall wait to enter the tower to find his wife. Shortening the time to accomplish the goal was commonly used in many trials and was where the term ‘if you are fated’ came from.

It was their last day in the archives. Mara returned after putting away all her books and sat on her chair next to Crow. They’d both dragged a chair over so they were next to each other and facing the window. It made her smile when Crow told her they were like an old couple sitting on their stoop sipping tea and staring out into the forest. While looking out the window, her smile froze, and her entire body tensed.

Crow, sensitive to unusual changes, lowered his book to look over at Mara.

“You okay?”

Mara’s hand rose, and her finger pointed at the window. They’d left the hidden valley up, and in the field where they used to do their morning cultivation was a tall person with sandy brown hair. He sat on a stone cultivating, looking at peace with the world.

“Lonny!” Both of them said at the same time.

“The Belgae clan lives on,” Crow sighed.

“This isn’t an illusion, is it?” Mara asked.

“No,” Crow said after observing for some time. “It is even more impressive than that. This is a scrying mirror and a treasure that could topple nations. We can’t tell anyone this exists down here.”

“Not even Gavin?” Mara asked.

“No. Not even him. That man is way too curious and wouldn’t let it go. Maybe I can tell Mugna, but he probably already knows this is here.”

“Should we tell anyone about Lonny?”

“No,” Crow said after a few breaths time. “He could have left, and maybe he is like us—a victim. If I was him, I’d probably have stayed too. Escape the manipulations of his clan, and find peace. I hope he finds whatever he’s looking for.”

Mara sighed. “Shall we leave? My time is up and tomorrow is your Yuletide gathering. Most of the other clans have already had their gift exchange.”

“Alright,” Crow said and put the last few books he had back on their shelves.

Outside of the archives, they ran into Esme. Her proud features had lost a lot of the haughty nature, but she couldn’t completely rid herself of her arrogance. It surprised Mara to see she walked right up to Crow instead of her.

“Why did you send me that gift?” She didn’t even attempt a greeting and cut right to the point.

“What gift?” Mara asked, curious.

She held out her hand, and on her palm rested a wooden ring. Crow carved it to look like twisted tree branches. It looked more like a wooden crown than a ring. Amazingly, Mara felt a righteous or holy feeling emanating from it.

“Because you are Mara’s sister, and I felt the things I said about you—I was wrong. So consider this my apology. I don’t wish to be your enemy and hope that this gift will help mend some of our differences. I also don’t want to be the reason you two stop talking to each other. You and I may not ever be friends, but I hope we can at least put aside our differences for Mara’s sake.”

Mara squeaked in surprise and shock, and before Crow could react, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips against his. It was a light kiss, but the tears in her eyes were ones filled with happiness. So after she stepped back, and her cheeks flushed a cute pink color.

Esme frowned. Unsure what to say or do.

“Put it on, little sis,” Mara suggested, but it only caused Esme’s body to shake.

“Why? Why are you doing this?” She whispered, her eyes never leaving Crow.

“I meant every word. You hurt me, but you never did anything I couldn’t forgive. I’ll leave you two to talk. Mara, I’ll head back to the clan. Take your time. In a few days, you’ll be leaving too, so you two might not see each other for some time,” Crow said mysteriously and left. From a distance, he saw Mara dragging Esme to a nearby restaurant and smiled. Yule really was a magical time, and he’d used the clan to deliver all his gifts.

Entering the front gates of the Maddox Manor, he found Barnes sitting in a chair nearby, waiting. The moment their eyes met, his stooped shoulders and weak appearance disappeared. A smile lit up his weather-worn face.

“Come with me.”

Crow hadn’t even had a chance to say hello before Barnes whisked him away to the False Dawn Workshop. The moment he entered, he was surprised to find that over a dozen people worked at the various stations, including Mavis and Jannon. All the time he spent down here, he’d seen no one except Gavin, and within a week, fourteen people had appeared.

A few of them looked up when they entered, but none came over or interrupted Barnes. Entering the bowyer station, he activated the barrier. He prevented anyone from watching by occluding the barrier with a smoky-like substance.

“I’m sorry I won’t be able to watch you become a man, but I know you’ll accomplish great things. Meeting you has given me the greatest joy in life—know that always. I worried I wouldn’t be able to pass my legacy down and that no one would be good enough to master the Way of the Bow as I do. Previously, I gave you most of my archery knowledge. With my years of accumulation, that knowledge barely puts you on the path, and I want you to also learn the practical knowledge. Crafting bows, all the arrows I ever dreamed up, including ones I never had the materials to complete. All the science related to the Way of the Bow. Will you become this Bard’s first and last disciple, even if it is only for a few days?”

“Yes,” Crow said without hesitation.

“Then I leave it up to you to find worthy followers in the future so that my name lives on.”

“I will, I swear it by root and limb,” Crow said solemnly. They both performed a small ritual to become master and disciple. It didn’t need a grand ceremony because this was something they’d already both accepted in their hearts. After that was done, Barnes then placed five vestiges on the table.

“This is my accumulated knowledge. Do not absorb them all at once because it would be best if you did them in order. After you’ve absorbed the knowledge and understand it, wait another month after that before taking the next one. These vestiges are reusable, so once you’ve learned them all, save them for a fated disciple, one that accepts the Way of the Bow as we do. Understand?”

“Yes, master.”

Barnes smiled and put his hand on Crow’s shoulder. “You are a good kid, so do not blame your elders for their actions. They had to think about the entire Druid Order, and even now, our survival is uncertain. This last vestige,” Barnes placed the sixth one on the table. “You can view it any time. You are to destroy it immediately after. It is a recording of my pinnacle achievement, but I don’t give it to you to brag. I wanted to show you the true power of the bow and that even cultivators should never underestimate mortals.”

Crow picked it up, wondering what impressive skill was within.

“Are you truly going to die?” Crow finally asked the question burning in his heart.

“I am. Nothing can prevent it, not even your unfated status. I’ve been sick a long time now, constantly hovering at death’s door. Hanging on this long was only because I was trying to find someone like you. It is nothing to be sad about. In fact, I’m excited and happy for the first time in a long while.”

“When you are reborn, do you hope to be mortal again? Or would you hope to become a cultivator?”

“Kid, that is impossible to answer. Thankfully, that decision isn’t up to me,” Barnes laughed at Crow’s bitter face, knowing he’d dodged the question deliberately.

Life seemed simple but was unexpectedly complicated. Death seemed complicated but was unexpectedly simple. This thought reached Crow’s mind, and he couldn’t help but frown. He believed, like all Druids, that the soul was indestructible. Even his father’s methods just transferred the souls away from this realm. Not sure what else to do, Crow stepped forward and hugged the old man.

“Come, tonight we drink. We’ll toast each other as men,” Barnes smiled happily. Content now that he had an excellent disciple and that his legacy would carry on. “By the way, your tolerance for alcohol better not be weaker than your fathers!”

Of course, Crow had never really had alcohol before, so his tolerance was much, much worse.

One of the other Scholars was a brewer. After the barrier came down, he slammed a barrel of ale on a nearby table and tapped it.

“We drink!” The burly man growled. “To Barnes, the man that never missed!”

“To Barnes!” The group shouted, and all of them tilted their glasses up until they were empty. Crow included. Everyone in the False Dawn Workshop was drinking, including Gavin.

Niall and some others showed up at some point, but Crow was already too drunk to notice.

Gavin laughed upon seeing Niall’s face.

“Conall is going to dig that bastard up and kill him again,” Niall laughed. “A boy’s first drink should be with his father.”

“Aye, but I think Conall would approve this time. Barnes really does care for the boy.”

All those present had remained here for two days, waiting for Crow to return. Most of them were Bards, and they came to honor Barnes to celebrate his life and achievements.

When Crow woke the next day, he was sprawled on the floor with the taste of vomit in his mouth. It felt like an Elkan had kicked him in the head, but he was thankful to see he wasn’t the only one passed out on the ground. Standing up and swaying on his feet, he found Barnes sitting in a nearby chair. His body was stiff and his eyes vacantly staring—the old man died with a smile on his face.