Chapter 371: 371. The Twi-crown

The eighth Moon surrounded by the rest… but that wasn’t the key part. Lines connected the central moon with the seven others. The width and angle of the lines created the impression that the Eighth Moon was shooting rays of light at all the rest. Or maybe it was the opposite? What if the Seven Moons were shooting at the Eighth? That definitely gave a whole new perspective on things. Unfortunately, Dallion wasn’t given the chance to ponder on it.

Leaves detached from the vines chasing Dallion, flying through the air like daggers. Most were knocked out of the air by another wave of flying leaves—no doubt launched by the armadil shield. However, some managed to slip by and hit their target.

Three new red rectangles emerged, each indicating a ten percent health decrease. Before more could hit, Dallion split into six instances. In each, he used his shield to block as many as possible. In one case, he managed to stop just enough to prevent another wound.

MINOR HEAL!

Your health has been increased by 5%

Good thing I have you, Lux, Dallion thought. Even a five percent increase meant he could withstand one more hit. Not that Dallion had any intention of letting any more leaves reach him. Ignoring his pulsing headache, he split again, flying straight up in order to get as far as possible from anything made of wood.

Unlike humans, dryads didn’t fight with their body alone, but used any sort of plant to their advantage; and given that all structures except the temple were made of wood, not to mention the ground itself, that made for one giant danger area.

At this point, it was pretty obvious that Vihrogon was winning the fight below, which only made the other guardian dangerously desperate.

“Gleam, what’s going on.” Dallion closed his eyes again.

“Dryad chaos,” the shardfly replied. “Your dryad has wrapped the other in a cage of roots and vines. I guess it won’t be long before the fight is over.”

That was a clever move—it kept the temple guardian from pinpointing Dallion’s precise location, and what couldn’t be seen, couldn’t be targeted. Even so, it remained too close for comfort. A quarter of his health remained. One serious hit, or three leaves, and he would be expelled from the sword faster than he could blink.

Thankfully, no such thing occurred. No new projectiles were launched at Dallion in the next ten seconds. In the ten seconds that followed after that, the clusters of roots and vines that extended from the ground and walls of buildings crumbled away, turning into dust. By all indications, that was supposed to mean the end of the battle, but for some reason there still wasn’t any rectangle announcing his victory.

Dallion remained in the air for another ten seconds—enough for his entire health to be restored—then combat split again. In two of the three instances, Dallion had Lux fly him back down, and very much to Dallion’s astonishment, nothing happened. It was as if the temple guardian had been subdued, but still alive.

That’s new, Dallion thought. Usually, a guardian fight ended with one of the sides losing, or at the very least, a draw. In this case, the fighting has just stopped.

A single echo of Vihrogon remained, standing a short distance from the dryad. Seeing Dallion approach, the echo waved.

“Gleam, is that real?” Dallion asked.

“It’s an echo of your dryad, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Stay vigilant,” Dallion whispered. “Lux, bring me next to him.”

The firebird did as asked, although its flaming wings remained on Dallion even after his feet touched the ground.

“What happened?” Dallion asked the echo.

“The fight is over,” the other replied. “All you need to do is go and get the twi-crown.”

“I didn’t see any rectangles.”

“It’s a stalemate. I told you I won’t win your fights for you. The guardian can’t harm you in any fashion. I’ll keep it that way until we get out of here.”

“And I suppose you know where the crown is?”

“No, but I know how to find out.” The echo led the way into the temple.

The inside was quite similar to all the previous temples Dallion had been to in this world. One by one, each of the rooms were carefully searched, and each time the prize was not to be found. Several dryad scrolls were found in one of the chambers—a historic account of some ruler that Dallion had never heard of. However, the twi-crown remained as elusive as before.

“Are you sure it’s here?” Dallion asked.

“Yes,” the echo replied. “The guardian wouldn’t dare move it.”

“Well, we’ve been through everywhere. Gleam, check for illusions.”

“I didn’t notice anything,” the shardfly said, slightly annoyed.

“Do it anyway,” Dallion insisted. “Please.”

With a sigh, the familiar fluttered off, leaving the chamber. It would have been better if Nox had been here. The crackling could almost smell hidden compartments. Sadly, after being wounded, Dallion preferred that Nox remain in his domain.

“You did quite well,” the echo said. “Considering your level, defeating one of his echoes was a big deal.”

“But?” Dallion could tell that there was something on Vihrogon’s mind, even if the dryad was expressing it through an echo.

“But it’s not enough to face the Star. I won’t be able to help you in the real world.”

“The Star will be subject to restrictions as well.”

“Not as many as you think. That’s the thing about the Star and his cult: they don’t follow all the rules. They can fly, disappear in the shadows, have the strength of ten awakened and a lot of other tricks they used to gain the upper hand.”

“That’s not what you wanted to warn me about, is it?” Dallion could see the secret pulsing in the echo’s chest.

“The Star will no doubt make you an offer. Don’t accept it. No matter how good it sounds, have the strength to reject it.”

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“This isn’t the first time we’ve met,” Dallion smirked, displaying fake confidence. The truth was that even after all this time, he was slightly shaken by what he had gone through during the confrontation in the Nox dagger. “I’ll be fine.”

“He’ll make the offer once you’re dying. Don’t let him get that far.”

“What makes you think that—"

“There’s an illusion!” Gleam flew into the room. “Quite a subtle one too, but I found it.”

Dallion hesitated for a moment, then followed the shardfly out of the room. All that had to be said was said.

The shardfly led them back to the central hall, then to the altar. Dallion looked closely. He had searched this place several times, paying special attention to every stone and space. This time, there was a slight difference: the stones on one side of the altar were, in effect, made of petrified wood.

“They were made to look like stone,” Gleam said. “Not sure why, though. I tried to cut through, but they are solid. The only difference is the material.”

Focus, Dallion thought, combining his music and forging skills. Gleam had been right—there was no latch, keyhole, or metal mechanism anywhere to be found. It seemed that the guardian had placed the illusion purely for aesthetic purposes. Knowing the guardians of this realm, however, Dallion strongly doubted that.

A whole wall of the altar replaced by wood… There was no logical reason to do so. It wasn’t like the altar was used. At some point in the past he might have, but the signs of neglect clearly indicated that it hadn’t received care in the last few centuries.

Dallion tried pushing, pulling, playing a few chords on the harpsisword to make the section of the altar lighters, and still nothing. Then it hit him. The reason he wasn’t figuring it out wasn’t thinking like a dryad. This was their realm. For millennia, they had bestowed their knowledge on their children, who in turn had done the same with their children, and thus to the present day.

“You can manipulate wood, right?” Dallion turned to the echo.

“My original can,” the echo said. “But he doesn’t have to be here for that as long as there’s a link between him and here.”

“I think the altar is a door. Of everything in this district, the temple is the only building not made of wood. I think that the original building here had been destroyed and the guardian had cleaned the area and placed this on top. The real chamber with the twi-crown is deep below and the only way to get there is to transform this into a staircase so we can go down there.”

“You think that there’s something hidden beneath the altar?”

“In a way. I think that the foundation of the original building here has remained intact. The altar is just the means of getting there.”

The echo looked at Dallion, then at the altar. Slowly, the wooden section began to move, like heated wax. A small opening formed, then increased in size until it was wide enough for a person to fit through.

“Doesn’t look particularly safe.” The shardfly fluttered closer. “I’ll check it out and let you know what I find.”

“Be careful there, okay? There might be traps.”

“Hey, I’ll be fine. Worry about yourself.”

As it turned out, there were traps and many of them. The opening in the altar continued down as for several hundred feet, before ending in a passageway. From there dozens of side corridors went on, splitting and merging together as they formed the most intricate maze Dallion had seen. The confusing part was that the maze changed each time Dallion and the echo passed by. The notion of a living labyrinth came to mind. The logic by which the labyrinth shifted remained a mystery. Maps and memory were useless. Even Gleam wasn’t of particular help.

“Can’t you do something about the constant changes?” Dallion asked.

“That’s beyond my abilities. This whole section was built to be a vault for the crown. If any dryad could get through it, it wouldn’t be much of a hiding place.”

The wandering continued. At several points, Dallion tried to leave markings on the walls or floor, indicating the direction from which they’d come from. Each time, the mark would disappear within moments, as if it had never been there.

Think, Dallion told himself. If this was built to determine a dryad leader, what would be the factor by which that was determined? It had to be based on a specific skill or ability—those with them would easily be able to progress on, while everyone else would get hopelessly lost.

“What qualities does one need to have to be considered suitable for the crown?

The echo gave Dallion a suspicious glance.

“I’ve no intention of claiming the title. I just want to know.”

“Strength and wisdom,” the echo said. “And the mental will to lead all the banished against the Star.”

That didn’t help too much. Every race valued these qualities, and somehow Dallion couldn’t help but feel he was missing something. Normally, a leader was supposed to lead. This was obvious, although one had also to consider who the chosen was supposed to lead the dryads against. Fighting the Star required more than strength and skill, it required conviction, clarity of mind and…

“It requires a spark,” Dallion whispered.

“Huh?” the echo asked.

Instead of an explanation, Dallion took a deep breath. He hadn’t used this ability since defeating the heart of the crackling city. Honestly speaking, he wasn’t even sure he fully knew how to use it. However, now was the time to learn.

Give me a spark, Dallion thought as he hit the floor with his hand.

Initially, nothing happened. Dallion remained in a silly position, his find still in contact with the wooden surface. A few moments later, however, a faint glow emerged beneath his knuckles. Slowly, the glow built up until his entire hand looked like a white ball of lightning. When that happened, Dallion opened his hand. A spark, no larger than an inch, zapped between his fingers, before fizzling away.

“A bit anticlimactic,” the echo said.

Gritting his teeth, Dallion stood up. It was ludicrous for him to expect anything different would happen. Even granted an extraordinary gift, his skill was too low to adequately make use of it. A spark was all he could muster… fortunately for him, that turned out to be enough. Acknowledging Dallion’s potential, the wood in the passageway began to shift, as if it had transformed into liquid. All entrances were sealed, becoming part of the walls. The hallway stretched, extending to the size of a large hall, then kept on growing. A perfect circle was formed, in the center of which a small tree emerged. Hanging from one of the branches was the object that Dallion had come for—a delicate crown made of intricately intertwined vines of white wood. On the front, a green gem the size of an orange glistened with its brilliance.

“The twi-crown,” Dallion whispered.

Awestruck, he stepped forward, taking the crown from the branch. The tree didn’t do anything to prevent him. Holding his breath, Dallion turned the crown around to get a look of its other side. The only thing revealed was an empty hole among the vines—the second skill gem was missing.

“It seems we’re not the only ones after the crown,” the echo said. “Someone’s been here before us.”

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