Light flared across Clive’s vision. When it faded, he found himself back at the altar of Titan. The trial’s barren wasteland had vanished like a half-remembered dream.

  “Clive!” Lucia rushed forward. “Thank the gods, you’re back.”

  Clive blinked hard, still disoriented. "How long was I—"

  "Hours. You just knelt there, completely still. I thought..." She glanced at Nydalea. "She wouldn't let me touch you."

  “No one should interrupt a communion with the Earth Father.” She studied Clive's face. "But you returned whole. He accepted you?"

  “We had a bit of an argument at first.”

  Nydalea's eyes widened. "An argument? With Titan himself?" Her grip around her spear tightened.

  “What kind of argument?” Lucia asked.

  "The kind where he throws mountains at you first, then asks philosophical questions."

  Lucia stared at him with an incredulous look. "Mountains? Like actual mountains?"

  "Well, parts of them." Clive stretched his shoulders, still feeling phantom aches from granite impacts. "But we reached an understanding."

  Golden marks began to glow beneath his skin, tracing patterns similar to those that adorned Nydalea's arms.

  “The blessing of Titan.” There was deep reverence in Nydalea voice. She turned to Lucia. “Your turn.”

  Lucia took a step back. She looked at Clive, then the altar, then back to Nydalea. “Is this really necessary? I’m not sure I want mountains thrown at me.”

  “Titan’s blessing is the only way through the Warden’s barrier. Unless you prefer to flee like all the other Light-seekers.”

  "That's not—" Lucia cut herself off, turning to face Clive. "How bad was it? Really?"

  "Survivable," Clive said. "Barely."

  "Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful." Lucia walked to the altar, mumbling under her breath. "I came here to gather some flowers, not get tested by mountain gods who enjoy geological violence."

  She knelt before the stone surface, placing her palms on the altar. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Nydalea guided Lucia through the same ritual. Golden light blazed from the altar as Lucia's hands made contact. Her body went rigid, then slumped forward.

  Clive stepped toward her, but Nydalea's spear blocked his path.

  "Do not disturb their communion.”

  Clive backed away and settled against a nearby tree, watching Lucia's still form. Minutes crawled by. An hour. Her breathing remained steady, but she didn't move otherwise.

  Finally, light flared again. Lucia's eyes opened and she sat up slowly, blinking in confusion.

  "How was it?" Clive asked, moving to help her stand.

  Lucia accepted his hand and pulled herself upright. "Titan was... surprisingly educational. We discussed soil composition for the better part of an hour. Apparently I've been underestimating the mineral content in marsh sediment."

  She crouched and scooped up a handful of dirt, bringing it to her lips for a quick taste. Her expression brightened. "He was absolutely right. There's iron oxide here I completely missed."

  Nydalea stared. "Did she just... eat soil?"

  “You’ll get used to it.” Clive shrugged. "That's actually restrained for her."

  Lucia wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "He also gave me cultivation tips for rare fungi. Apparently the mycorrhizal networks here are far more complex than I thought."

  "So no mountains thrown at you?" Clive asked.

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  "Oh, there were boulders at first. But once he realized I knew the difference between igneous and metamorphic rock formations, we had a lovely chat about mineral deposits."

  "A lovely chat," Clive repeated. "With a mountain god?"

  "He's quite knowledgeable about soil pH levels."

  Clive rolled his eyes internally.

  They made their way back to the barrier of mist. The purple wall stood before them, as dense and forbidding as before.

  "Ready?" Nydalea asked, though she was already stepping forward.

  Clive followed her through. The golden marks on his skin shined brighter as he crossed the threshold. Where before the mist had felt like breathing broken glass, now it parted around him like silk curtains. The toxic burn in his throat was gone, replaced by air that tasted faintly of deep earth and mineral springs.

  Lucia walked beside him, her own newly acquired marks glowing steady gold. She breathed deeply, testing the air. "Fascinating. The blessing doesn't just protect us—it's filtering away the shadow ether. I can actually smell the marsh's natural scents underneath."

  "The Earth Father's protection runs deep," Nydalea said, watching them both adapt to the passage with obvious satisfaction.

  Once past the barrier, they were greeted by desolation. The landscape stretched before them like a festering wound—cracked mud flats where marshland should have flourished. Skeletal remains of cattails and sedge grasses jutted from the barren soil. Here and there, the bleached shells of freshwater mussels lay scattered like abandoned coins.

  In the distance, beneath a sky stained purple, stood the source of this devastation. A giant withered tree rose from the dead marsh. Its trunk was easily a hundred feet across. Branches that should have crowned the canopy with green life instead reached toward the poisoned sky like the arms of a drowning giant, each limb ending in withered twigs that released streamers of toxic mist.

  The sight of it made something twist in Clive's chest—not fear, but a painter's grief at witnessing beauty destroyed.

  "The Great Tree," Nydalea muttered. "It once fed every stream and spring for miles around. Now look what it's become."

  Lucia knelt and scooped up a handful of the cracked earth, letting it sift through her fingers. The soil crumbled to dust before reaching the ground. "This land is beyond dead. It's been sterilized." She looked up at them with worry. "The midnight blossoms…How can anything grow in this?"

  "The midnight blossoms survive," Nydalea said. "I've seen them, small patches clustered at the tree's base, feeding off whatever corruption seeps from the roots.”

  “That’s our next destination then.” Clive said.

  “Be prepared. The Warden sees all in this area. It already knows we are here. Every step we take toward that tree brings us deeper into its domain.”

  As if summoned by her words, a low groaning echoed across the wasteland.

  Then Clive pointed toward the eastern horizon. "They’re coming."

  A line of figures moved across the cracked earth—too distant to make out details, but their unnatural gait was unmistakable. They moved with the jerky persistence of things that should not walk.

  "We could try running," Lucia said.

  Nydalea shook her head. “They'll hunt us across every inch of this wasteland. We can’t hide. Better to fight them here, in the open, before they can surround us or call for reinforcements.”

  Clive pulled out his brush and mace. "How many are we looking at?"

  "Eight," Nydalea counted, squinting at the approaching figures. "Standard patrol formation. They'll try to encircle us once they get close enough."

  The Risen maintained their steady advance for another fifty yards, their glowing eye sockets fixed on the trio. Then something changed. Their shambling walk shifted into a lurching run, bone feet pounding against the cracked earth with increasing rhythm.

  Nydalea met them first, hurling her spear through the air. It pierced the lead risen's chest, pinning it momentarily to the ground. In mid-stride, she shifted forms. Her body elongated and dropped to all fours as fur erupted across her skin. The transformation completed in seconds. She pounced as a cougar, colliding with a second risen.

  With a swift swipe of her claws, she separated the risen's head from its shoulders in a single motion. Yet to her visible frustration, the headless body continued its attack, swinging blind punches that still carried force.

  "Destroying the head isn't enough!" she snarled, dodging another swing. “We need to crush every single bone in their body.”

  Clive supported her from a distance, using [Paint: Yellow Stone I] to knock down two Risen. But it wasn’t enough to keep them down. They scrambled back to their feet and resumed their attack. The porous rock simply wasn't dense enough to inflict real damage on their hardened bones.

  He needed something that would hit harder. Much harder. His mind flashed back to the trial with Titan—the way granite chunks had struck with devastating force compared to the crumbling sandstone. Granite's density made all the difference.

  Time for an upgrade. Clive swept his brush through the red paint, then added touches of yellow to create a warm orange base. A careful dab of blue dulled the brightness into earth tones.

  [Mix: Brown paint created]

  Clive loaded the brown paint and began working his strokes. He stippled and dabbed the air, creating the mottled texture that defined granite. Dark gray flecks appeared where he touched blue-heavy paint to the invisible canvas. Lighter speckles followed as he dotted white across the surface. Each dab represented a different mineral crystal—feldspar, quartz, mica—all compressed together under unimaginable pressure.

  The granite took shape in the air, its surface rough and granular rather than the smooth finish of his previous sandstone. He could feel the spell's weight change as the magic responded to the denser composition he was painting.

  [Mix: Brown Granite II]

  [MP Cost: 10]

  The granite rock flew towards the Risen.

  The earth remembers what we forget—that all strength comes from pressure, all beauty from time, and all growth from the marriage of destruction and renewal. —From the Meditations of Titan, Earth Father