FREE USE in Primitive World

Chapter 198: Chapter 198: Cheerful Lumi

Just then, Zephyra collapsed. The butterflies vanished, and the silver light died out of her hair. Two priestesses rushed forward to catch her, leading her away. She looked drained, her face pale and aged.

Sol was worried looking at her being carried away. But Kira told him it was gonna be okay.

Afterwards, instead of a lingering sadness, the atmosphere in the square shifted. The drums grew faster, more energetic. The mourning was over; the “wishing well” had begun. The warriors began to stomp their feet in time with the drums, their phantoms flickering with a fierce, defiant light. Soon, the whole tribe, kids, women, elders and even the injured ones joined the rhythm, doing whatever they could.

It was a primitive, visceral survival mechanism. They couldn’t afford to mourn for long. Tomorrow, the sun would rise, and the Marauders would still be hungry.

Kira turned to Sol, her expression unreadable in the dying light of the funeral fires. The raw grief from the ridge had been filed away, replaced by the cold, sharp resolve of a survivor.

“The strength of the ancestors is in the wood now,” she said. “The city is safe.”

She reached out and gripped Sol’s arm, her fingers digging into his skin through the silver-bark vest.

“Rest,” Kira said, letting go of his arm. “Tomorrow, at first light, someone will come to the guest house to fetch you. You will be taken to the Shamanic Grove. Where you will awaken your sun-core.”

Sol looked at her, his crimson eyes reflecting the glowing blue runes of the Great Tree above them. “And if I don’t have a beast soul? If I can’t bind a phantom?”

Kira gave a small, weary huff… a flicker of the girl she had been before the massacre. “Then you are just a burden, Sol. Regardless of what you’re wearing now. And in Veynar, men without totems… they don’t last long. They aren’t warriors. They aren’t even laborers. They are just mouths to feed.”

She turned and began to walk away, disappearing into the crowd of dispersing tribesmen.

Sol stood in the square for a long time after she left. He looked at the place where the roots had swallowed Korg. He felt the silver liquid in his chest slosh, a heavy, mercury-like tide that felt increasingly out of place in this world of “sun-cores” and “totems.”

“Tomorrow,” Sol whispered to the Great Heartwood.

He turned and began the long climb back to the Feline Spire, his mind already beginning to map out the strategy for the awakening. He wouldn’t settle for a common spirit. If he was going to be stuck in this meat grinder, he was going to be the blade, not the meat.

As he reached the balcony of the guest house and looked out over the silver forest one last time, he saw a single, blue butterfly… one of Zephyra’s phantoms… fluttering past his window. It lingered for a second, its wings pulsing with a rhythmic, intelligent light, before diving into the dark canopy below.

Sol closed the window and laid down on the soft bed. The drums had stopped, but the forest was still whispering.

…

The night in the Feline Spire did not bring the restorative rest Sol’s body craved. Instead, it was a long, haunting vigil spent staring at the ceiling of the guest house, where the grain of the petrified wood seemed to writhe into the shapes of screaming faces under the emerald glow of the moss-lamps.

On a small, hand-carved table near the bed, was a bowl of mystical fruits, which must have been left there by a silent attendant while he was at the burial.

They were unlike anything he had seen on Earth or even in the ravines of the Osari. Some were shaped like five-pointed stars, their skins a deep, pulsating violet that felt warm to the touch. Others were translucent spheres filled with a thick, golden liquid that shimmered with a faint internal light.

Sol reached out and picked up one of the star-shaped fruits. As he bit into it, a burst of flavor that could only be described as “concentrated starlight” filled his mouth. It was sweet, yet carried a sharp, electric tang that made the Liquid Silver in his chest hum in recognition. It was essence-rich food, designed to nourish the soul as much as the body.

It was delicious, a taste no Earthly laboratory could ever replicate, but it felt like ash in his mouth.

He finished the meal mechanically and lay back on the mossy bed.

That night, Sol didn’t sleep. He lay on the mossy bed, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the silver leaves outside whispering in the wind. Every time his eyelids grew heavy. He saw Korg’s golden-red heart still beating in the grey monster’s fist. He saw the “double jaws” extending with a sickening hydraulic hiss. And most of all, he saw the looming shadows of the “Earth-Blood Kings.”

He realized then that he was no longer a writer playing a survival game. He was a piece on a board where the players were gods and monsters, and he didn’t even have a move yet. His only edge was a broken artifact that wouldn’t let him go home for months and a library of Earth-knowledge that required an industrial infrastructure he didn’t possess.

“I have to get stronger,” he whispered into the dark. “If I don’t, I’m just waiting for my turn to be a bundle of cloth in the roots.”

…

The next morning, the silver-leafed canopy of the Orrath Forest filtered the dawn into a soft, ethereal glow. The silver leaves of the Orrath clattered together like wind chimes, and the Singing Moss began a low, upbeat hum that signaled the start of a new day.

He didn’t know when, but he had finally fell asleep last night, suddenly a sharp, energetic knock rattled the door of the guest house.

“Hey! Divine-Envoy-Guest-Person! Are you awake?The sun is up, well, mostly up! The leaves are singing!”

Sol groaned, rubbing his tired eyes. He stood up, adjusted his dark leather vest and silver-bark tunic, and opened the door.

Standing there was a girl who looked like she had been crafted from pure energy and sunshine. She was young, maybe fifteen or sixteen, with her chestnut hair tied into two bouncy pigtails and eyes that sparkled with a terrifying amount of morning cheer. She wore a simple tunic of leaf-green silk, decorated with colorful bird feathers and beads.

She looked at Sol and her jaw dropped. She stood frozen for a second, her eyes traveling from his crimson gaze down to his bare feet and back up, unlike the other tribe members who looked at Sol with suspicion or awe, she looked at him like he was a rare, exotic insect she had just found in a jar.

She was cautious for exactly three seconds, her head tilted as she looked at his new Veynar clothes.

“Wow,” she breathed, her voice a high-pitched squeak. “You really do look cool. I mean, everyone said you were handsome, but you look like… like a real divine person.!”

Sol couldn’t help but crack a small, weary smile. Her energy was infectious, a stark contrast to the grim silence of the night before. “Good morning. And please, just ’Sol’ is fine. No need for the ’Envoy’ stuff. And you are?”

Oh! Okay, Sol!” she chirped, hopping on the balls of her feet. ” I’m Lumi! I’m a trainee with the Hawk-Watch, but I mostly do errands because my phantom is still just a ’wisp’—see?” She pointed to her shoulder, where a tiny, translucent bird the size of a thumb flickered in and out of existence.

“Anyway, the Elders sent me! Well, they sent a group, but I ran faster so I could get here first. They said since you’re staying, you need to awaken your core today! It’s the law! Or a rule! Or something important!”

“Let’s go then, Lumi, Before the elders lose their patience.” Sol said, stepping out onto the suspension bridge, as he was also curious about the reason for summon.

As they began the long walk toward the central Heartwood, Lumi’s “cautious” persona vanished instantly. She stayed half a step ahead of him, constantly spinning around to walk backward so she could keep peeking at him.

“Sooo,” she started, her voice a rapid-fire barrage. “Are you *really* a divine envoy? Like a real one? I saw you coming in yesterday. Well, I didn’t see you, but my friend was on the gate and she said you were wearing clothes made of starlight!

It was so shiny! Where did it go? Can you make it appear with magic? Why aren’t you wearing them now? You look real cool in the Veynar gear, but I think other one looked way better!”

Sol chuckled, navigating a narrow bridge made of woven vines, the girl’s liveliness acting as a temporary shield against the gloom of the city. “First, I’m just a human, Lumi. Just like you. I’m not an envoy of anything. Second, the ’dress’ is in my room… it’s a bit too flashy for a walk in the woods, don’t you think? and those clothes were just a gift from an old friend.”

“A friend who gives out divine clothes?” she giggled, her eyes turning into crescent moons. “I need friends like that! By the way. My dream is to be a Scout. Scouts see everything first. So, tell me about ’Far Away.’ What is it like there? My grandfather told me that in the lands where the gods live, the rivers are made of honey, and the trees grow already-cooked meat?”