The nature of Concepts is a hotly debated topic in academia. Every Guild researcher dreams to be the first to make some sort of breakthrough. What we do know for sure is that it implies the existence of some “metaphysical” plane or dimension consisting of pure Concept. This plane seems tied to ours by some medium, as phenomena here seem to generate a corresponding Conceptual equivalent in this mysterious dimension. A roaring hearth could emit Flame, Ember, Spark, Comfort, Home, any number of different Concepts people tie to a hearth. A lively debate could emit Persuasion, Conflict, Communication, etc.

Early theories suggested this was a pre-existing plane and the Sun simply gave us the means to access it but popular thought shifted once diplomatic ties were established with the Elvar and we discovered they manifested differently. Their Concepts come directly from the Sun and tend to be Concepts ascribed to the Sun. For example, Everwatching, Everburning, Everlasting, etc. And while the elves have not opened the rest of The Garden to us, the few other Garden races that have sent representatives seem to follow the trend of accessing the “Concept dimension” in a unique way to every other race. To say this was a momentous discovery would be underselling it. Entirely new fields of science were created to answer the questions this brought about. Did every species create their own metaphysical plane? Was this a criterion for entering the Garden? Was this an inherent quality of sapient races?

Excerpt from “Concepts for Dummies”

They flew through the forest. Musa and Juggernaut were on foot, of course, but with Juggernaut around they didn’t even spend a second dealing with any beasts that impeded their way. However, beasts were not their only opposition.

Okay, something is very wrong. Musa thought as the thick vines whipped around, highly caustic gel flowing from the tips.

Mr McLeod just grunted, and grabbed a vine. A red nimbus spread along the unruly plant’s appendages and travelled down into its roots, seemingly freezing the aggressive shrub in place. Mr McLeod pulled and the entire plant came out of the ground, roots raining soil back into the dirt.

“This is a bit ahead of the syllabus, but mutated flora can only be properly killed one way. You have to target the main root somehow.” Mr McLeod wrapped a large hand around the protruding tap root and squeezed, completely pulping the organ. “They all grow a root like this and tap into the Drasil’s root system.”

“Wouldn’t the Drasil’s root system be closer to the tree itself?”

“Do you not listen in class? A Drasil spreads its roots throughout the whole Burrow, it’s what demarcates the edge of the Drasil’s territory.”

Musa remained quiet, knowing that he didn’t actually listen in class, instead trusting Mike to explain everything in a much simpler manner when they studied at night. He glanced at the huge gun in his hands. Someone will pay. I swear on the Sun, someone will answer for Mike’s death.

“So those dead elves. They’re stuck through with Drasil roots?”

Mr McLeod looked at him, considering. “I believe so. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t put too much stock in it, people have been experimenting with Drasils for centuries. As far as we can tell, the roots are simply vestigial, a remnant from when the Drasil was an actual plant, since it gets all its sustenance from the Sun.”

“Ordinarily?”

“Yes. These are, however, extraordinary circumstances. Dire beasts, mutated flora, these are things that should not be in this young a Burrow. Yet they are. And all the dead are Elvan I’ve never seen before. I kept tabs on every Elvan in New London, but I’ve never seen them before. Along with the roots, these pieces of information paint a damning picture, but I’m a former adventurer and current teacher. I’m not qualified to make conclusions, so I’ll pass this on to those who are.”

“You think this is the Prophet making a move?”

“Like I said, it paints a damning picture, but I’m not qualified to start accusing anyone just yet. And some things don’t fit, considering the Pope is the only one who can open portals across the Garden and he hates the Prophet.”

Musa was lost in his own mind however. He idly dodged an invisible raccoon as he thought. So they grabbed Mike as fuel for a damn tree? No that doesn’t make sense, he’s the toughest of us, why not grab me or Birgitte? In fact, why do it here at all? A Burrow is probably the worst place to abduct someone since everyone comes armed to the teeth. And why grab Mike in the first place? He’s not a precog. Argh, there’s no reason for the Prophet to want him dead!

“Look sharp, we’re approaching the tree.”

They’d been running to the centre for the past half hour, after a look at the map confirmed that all the remaining students were congregated at the buses. Musa travelled at a sprint the whole way, his Seed pushing him to the limits of the human body as the forest whizzed by, while Mr McLeod seemed to jog, yet keep up with him all the same. They were finally approaching the Drasil though, and so they slowed down to assess the situation.

The forest had been growing steadily denser the closer they got to the Drasil and attacks happened much more frequently. They still steamrolled over everything, from foxes with sonic blasts to massive skunks with a poison gas attack. The flora had also gotten more aggressive. Now, nearly half of all the shrubbery, trees excepted, was reaching towards them to kill them. Musa could avoid them easily enough and Mr McLeod couldn’t be hurt by them so they mostly ignored them.

The two fighters battled through ever increasing foliage, until the undergrowth suddenly ended. There were plenty of trees, though they were shorter than the usual fare and opened up into a clearing Musa could vaguely see. He also felt a tugging on his soul, it was different to the pull he’d felt when tracking the owl however, this felt like a slight drain.

“Is the Drasil leeching my Sunlight?”

“Yes. While you’re in the Burrow, the tainted energy leaks into your soul and you internally convert it to Sunlight. The Drasil vacuums up all Sunlight in an area. It won’t get much from you since its inside your soul but everyone feels that pull.”

“If I convert it, why can’t I heal?”

“It’s tainted. The Drasil sucks up the rejuvenating and empowering component through its leaves and transpires what it doesn’t need through its roots. This is fine for most life, as they can’t use Sunlight anyway so what energy they receive from the Drasil can be repurposed to whatever ends. But cultigens use Sunlight in the same way a Drasil would, so we need it pure.”

Musa knew he was pestering the man, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Mr McLeod on his end was being unusually accommodating, so no harm no foul.

They heard loud crashing and banging noises come from the clearing. With a glance at each other, they slowly made their way forward until they could see what was causing the disturbance.

They saw the Drasil, tall and spreading, its vast canopy completely shading the clearing.

They saw three strange elves, two men and one woman, wearing Academy gear.

They saw a huge antlered wolf, the size of the bus they came in on and covered in tree bark, fighting the elves.

But Musa only had eyes for a shape on the far side of the tree. A smaller Elvan woman frantically doing something out of sight. With an unconscious Mike slung over her shoulder.

She’d spent the past five minutes of the standoff frantically burning Sunlight. Her pouch was overflowing with grenades and her arms were full. Every pin was pulled out but Dr Jones had marked the explosives with his power and constantly reset their timers, giving them a stockpile of about twenty grenades.

“Missy, that’ll have to be enough. Any more time and the big fucker will be all healed up.”

The impromptu strike team, Birgitte, Mridul, Gerald and Bill, gathered around one of the massive boulders of ice that encased a torn off half of one of the buses, separate from the rest of the students that had pulled back from the wall and were milling around away from the action, at the doctor’s order.

Jones talked to them, going over the plan one last time.

“Okay Birgitte, Bill will make a door that’s gonna open on the far side of that there ice wall. You’ll throw your grenades in then pull back, and Bill will disappear the door. Hopefully everything goes boom. Regardless, after the blast, we reform the door and storm through. You and Gerald cover Mridul, Bill protects ya from any shots and Mridul takes the big one down. Questions?”

“Yes,“ Birgitte chimed in, “why can’t Gerald go through on his own?”

“I’m only a Bud innit. I could deffo show the other deer wagwan but dealing with that hench tosser is a bit too peak.”

“What?”

“While he’s strong, Burrow beasts are much tougher than their mundane counterparts. One as strong as that stag could shrug off his attempts to pull it apart quite easily. If we knew things had escalated to this level, we would have brought Flowers. Instead, we must make use of fortuitous Seeds.” Bill translated, as he looked at Mridul, the boy blushing under the attention.

“Anything else? Time’s a-wasting.”

Birgitte was satisfied and told Jones so.

“Okay, on three.”

Wait.

“One.”

Shit, we’re doing this now. Okay. Shit. Get yourself together.

“Two.”

Birgitte gathered every grenade into her arms, a few on the verge of falling. She took a deep breath and looked up into the Sun.

“THREE!”

Everything seemed to move lightning fast from that point. A large wooden door popped into existence as Bill reached for it, pulling it open to reveal a mass of deer that hadn’t noticed them yet.

Birgitte threw everything in her arms with a scream, the cloud of explosives spreading out over the oblivious deer. At her scream however, the large stag turned his head and saw the bombs. Bill pushed the door shut as Jones untagged the ordnance with his power.

Birgitte turned to look at the wall and a great BLAST rang out. The ground shook slightly as the thick wall instantly cracked straight down the middle. Bits of deer and clods of dirt were flung high into the air as a gust of wind hit their faces.

“Okay go go GO!”

Birgitte had barely gathered her composure from the explosion before she was pushed through the newly reformed door to a world of carnage.

The area beyond the wall looked like a tornado made of chainsaws had passed through. Bits of gore and exploded deer decorated every surface, even a few nearby trees were covered in blood and effluvia, the overwhelming attack having completely wiped them out. There was a dome of glittering ice with cracks running all the way down it, presumably shielding the stag. The group was stunned for a second, taking in the hellish, gruesome scene in front of them.

“Let’s dash innit? Man’s gonna recover right quick.”

Gerald’s strange way of talking pulled them out of their stupor and the group rushed ahead, trying to keep their footing in the sea of blood. An intimidating mass of ice lances materialised outside the dome and shot off in their direction, but they were.. wobbly? Their paths curved and swerved around the team, seeming to be fired at random. One went for Mridul, but Bill pointed at it and it turned translucent, passing through the boy with no trouble.

“My bad fam, nearly bollocksed that one.”

Gerald’s keeping the ice bolts away?

They reached the outside of the dome and stopped, needing to make a quick plan.

“Do we go in, or do we crack this dome and bring him out?”

Gerald kicked the barrier of ice once and made a loud thud with his boot, leaving the dome unmarked.

“Okay, we go in.” Bill had taken the role of field command, probably a better choice than Gerald.

“Hold on to me and don’t let go until we’re through, unless you like having your flesh fused with ice. We can’t take the chance it escapes, so we do this in the dome. Get ready.”

Birgitte grabbed onto Bill’s shoulder and held her breath as he stepped into the ice. The dome was thick, so they walked through solid ice for about four steps before entering the interior proper. The moment they stepped through, several torso-thick spears of ice crashed through them, shattering against the wall they had just left.

They could see the stag, now basically healed, only missing a back hoof. There were three other deer in the dome, shooting bolts of ice at the semi-transparent group of four. Everything was awash in a soft blue light, the Sun filtered through the thick ice.

Birgitte and Mridul had already started shooting, but their bullets were passing through the deer with no effect.

“Stop, we can’t do anything to them right now.”

They stopped, slightly embarrassed.

“Okay, once I drop our intangibility, we’ll be able to hurt them but they’ll be able to hurt us. I can save you from some of them but, this close, there will be a few I’ll miss. So don’t get shot.”

The stag emphasised his point by firing a machine gun staccato of smaller ice shards, all harmlessly passing through the four but making the potential danger of the situation crystal clear.

“Gerald, keep as much ice away from us as possible and lock the deer in place. Mridul give your gun to Birgitte. Birgitte, those other deer are yours deal with them as fast as possible. Mridul and I will take care of the big one.”

“Got it.”

“Say less, boss”

“Okay got it.”

They all assented to the plan as they got ready to release Bill and spread out.

“On my mark.”

The group tensed.

“Mark!”

They split, instantly becoming fully corporeal as their hands left Bill. Gerald spread his hands wide and a pressure seemed to descend on the whole area. The deer were brought to their knees and any bolts they shot crashed into the ground in front of them. The stag remained standing, but its big lances of ice swerved around and broke against the dome walls again.

Birgitte gripped her two pistols, firing unceasingly at the two deer and filling them with holes. They healed, but only to an extent and once she walked the shots up to their heads, it was over.

The powerful stag noticed this and released a light mist from its fur that fell to the ground and spread out while Mridul and Bill ran at him. The mist froze the ground it touched and Birgitte glanced with worry at the two sprinting towards it. Bill noticed however, and thought fast.

“Change of plan!”

He stopped abruptly, pulled Mridul to a halt next to him and reached for the ground, gripping the handle of a trapdoor that had just appeared.

“Aim for the stag.” Was all he said as he pushed Mridul into the open hatch.

“Get its attention!” He shouted as Mridul appeared at the dome ceiling, falling down onto the big white deer.

Birgitte focused fire on the stag, knowing she couldn’t hurt it but trying nonetheless. Gerald pointed at the beast and it froze, but it was twitching and struggling, evidently fighting against the foreign influence. Bill took out his own sidearm and shot at it, but it was all a mask for their real attack.

Mridul landed heavily on the beast, his stomach on its back. Its knees buckled but it managed to stay upright and start bucking him off. He took a moment to get his bearings, then, still draped across its back, he dug a hand through its fur and touched its skin.

The effect was instant, as the stag bellowed and redoubled its efforts to throw him off. It seemed to be withering and aging at a visible rate, its skin starting to sag and its brilliant white coat losing its lustre. Mridul continued, heedless of its struggle.

The proud animal slowly wound down its frantic kicking, until it could do nothing but sink to the floor, almost dead. It gave another pained bellow before falling quiet, its chest rising and falling much slower than before.

Birgitte couldn’t help but crack a smile. They had done it. The nightmare was fina-

Suddenly, the stag gave a last kick, rolling over onto its side. Mridul, who was still atop it, fell off and landed in the mist. He froze immediately.

No.

The stag, still on its last legs, bashed a hoof against the ground and the dome inverted, turning into a wide funnel shape reminiscent of a upside down traffic cone. Or a bullhorn.

No!

The stag, seemingly having given up on taking them out, gave off an ear-splitting bellow, amplified by the thick ice walls around them and sounding out through the open top.

You can’t fucking do this. Not when I’m so close.

While everyone else was stunned by this turn of events, Birgitte shot directly at the stag, bullets tearing its skull apart and finally killing it. It was too little, too late however, as a cacophony of angry bellows seemed to respond from the forest.