“Don’t crush us, big man!” Someone laughed from somewhere in the middle of the vast meadow.
Hadjar, keeping his foot in the air, looked closely. As if by magic, flowers shot out of the ground and opened, turning their buds toward the sky. Among their petals, stretching and yawning, lay little creatures, none of them larger than a fingernail. Each of them was the same color as the flower it had woken up in.
“Hi, big man!”
A red flower appeared right under Hadjar’s foot. The creature sitting in its petals smiled up at him with its wide, sharp-toothed mouth, and stared at him with its huge, black eyes. Hadjar put his foot down next to the flower and squatted down.
“Can I ask you a question?”
The creature frowned, as if considering his request, then nodded uncertainly.
“But the question has to be small!”
“Why?” Hadjar asked in surprise.
The creature fluttered its long lashes and burst out laughing.
“What a stupid big man you are!” It clutched its stomach and almost fell off the petal. Hadjar pushed the creature back inside the flower with the tip of his index finger. “Thank you, big man.” It smiled. “The question should be small because I’m small. If you ask me any big questions, their weight will crush me.”
The creature crossed its arms and frowned.
“I don’t want to be crushed!” It stamped its foot. “We’re crushed even without your stupid questions and-”
“Where should I go?” Hadjar interrupted it.
The flower and the creature swayed slightly. Had Hadjar asked something else, the creature would’ve probably been crushed by the weight of his question.
“It’s big,” the creature rasped. “They’ll call you, big man. They call everyone-”
“But-”
“No more questions!” The creature wagged its finger threateningly at Hadjar. “I’m a flower, not a turtle! They are old and wise and know how to answer questions.”
“Turtles…” Hadjar repeated, trying to figure out whether that was an allegory or whether he really should look for a turtle in this strange world.
The creature suddenly stretched and curled up inside its bud.
“Now leave me alone, big man. I’m going to sleep.”
As suddenly as they had appeared, the flowers began to disappear. They folded their buds and sank into the ground. Hadjar straightened up and looked at the sky. The early morning had made way for the afternoon, as if he hadn’t been talking to the flower for a few seconds, but for hours.
“But where should I go-”
“Darkhan…”
Hadjar shuddered upon hearing the wind whisper his name. Turning toward the call, he tried to take a step, but couldn’t. Huge trees suddenly sprouted from the ground and rose up to touch the sky. Their roots tore up the earth, creating deep ravines, wide valleys, and riverbeds, into which the endless streams of dew fell, cascading down from the leaves and creating rivers, lakes, and springs. He could hear birds flapping their wings, wolves howling, and bears roaring. In just a few moments, a forest formed around Hadjar. The green canopy closed over his head. The light that came through turned into golden pillars that pierced the ground.
Hadjar stood in the middle of a wide ravine. There was some kind of shrubbery in front of him. He also saw grass, small trees, and colorful plants that Hadjar didn’t recognize.
“Hello, Hadjar.”
With another shudder, Hadjar looked around. The ground beneath him began to move. It churned and swelled, rising into a huge hill.
The shrubbery served as a kind of shell for the creature, which was the size of a house. Its feet were the roots of the giant trees and its skin was clay dried in the wind. Its eyes were smoldering embers after a forest fire. A head on a long, wrinkled neck peeked out from beneath its shell. Two pairs of eyes stared at him.
“What’s going on here?” Hadjar yelped.
“Everything. And nothing.” The creature’s voice sounded like the rustle of the trees and the babbling of a brook. “We sleep, but sometimes we wake up. When someone comes to us. No one sleeps in this world. Even at night.”
Once again, Hadjar thanked the Tree of Life. Meeting it had definitely hardened his mind enough to let him survive this insanity.
“But-”
“Ask your questions carefully, North Wind,” the turtle said. “I’ll only answer three of them. You’ve already asked one.”
“This is just like my mother’s fairy tales.” Hadjar sighed.
He pondered everything for a couple of seconds.
“What do I see before me?”
The turtle smiled.
“What you want to see,” it replied. “What you want to find. What you’re afraid to see. Something you don’t want to find. Everything you fear and dream about.”
Hadjar sighed again, aware that it had been stupid of him to expect a simple and clear answer. Still, Hadjar suspected that the turtle had chosen words that were familiar to him as there was a vast gap in time and worldviews between them that prevented them from communicating properly. The turtle attempting to explain something to him was the equivalent of Hadjar trying to explain the mysteries of the Sword’s Heart to a baby.
“How do I get where I need to be?”
The clay creaked. The leaves rustled. The eyes flashed. The turtle nodded approvingly.
“Go to the end, Hadjar. That’s all I can tell you. You aren’t one of mine. You don’t belong to the earth, but to the heavens. You need to meet its Lord…”
Like the flowers before it, the turtle, along with the forest, sank back into the ground, leaving Hadjar standing in the middle of the green meadow once again.
Hadjar only knew one such Lord…
Chapter 583
As soon as Hadjar thought about meeting the Lord of the Heavens, the sky suddenly changed and the world was plunged into twilight. The ground beneath him moved again. It rose up until it turned into a high mountain around which, like mushrooms after a rain, tall firs sprouted.
Unlike before, he wasn’t in the center of the metamorphosis, but somewhere on its outer edge, a few miles away from the mountain that had appeared in the middle of the meadow.
Hadjar became worried when he saw that night was approaching. According to Steppe Fang, not everyone could survive a night in this world.
A vortex of blue-white wind gathered on the mountain’s peak. It gradually grew larger, until two huge fangs tore through it. They belonged to a titanic dragon that wouldn’t be able to fit in the capital of Darnassus if it tried to descend upon it. Next to this monster, the trees looked like needles, and the mountain like a low hill.
“A human?” the dragon’s whisper shook the skies. “That’s odd… I felt the call of the Dark Storm tribe.”
“I greet you, honorable one,” Hadjar saluted in the manner that Traves had taught him. May his rebirth be auspicious. “My distant ancestor, whose heart beats in my chest, was from the Dark Storm tribe.”
The dragon folded its wings and wrapped its tail around the mountain, lying down on it. It folded its paws and rested its mighty head on them. If it breathed fire, it could easily burn down a whole Kingdom in one exhalation.
“I see.” The dragon opened its eyes, inside which bright constellations gleamed. “Well, this isn’t the first time that has happened to one of my tribe.”
The meaning of its words dawned on Hadjar.
“You aren’t mistaken, human. I was the first to fly through the clouds and rule the sky. But that was a long, long time ago...”
Getting to meet the first dragon was something truly amazing, Hadjar thought.
“So-”
“I won’t answer your questions, human. You didn’t come here by your own strength, and so, you’re only a shadow. You didn’t come to see me. So go farther.”
Hadjar tried to move, but his feet seemed to have taken root.
“But how?”
“To go farther, you must first answer my riddl
e,” the dragon rumbled. “Are you ready?”
Hadjar looked up at the sky. Night was approaching. He was running out of time.
Not so long ago, he recalled, he’d had to solve three riddles to open the passage to the Library of Mage City. Sure, he’d had help back then, but… He figured he could deal with just one on his own.
“I am.”
“If you killed the last person in this world, what would you commit?”
Hadjar opened his mouth to say ‘murder’, but he closed it just in time. The answer couldn’t be that simple. If there were two people left in the world ― him and his enemy — and he killed them, he still wouldn’t have killed the last person in the world. He would just become that last person. And if he killed himself, he would be committing…
“Suicide.”
The dragon’s wings opened and it rose to its feet.
“Don’t forget that, North Wind.”
The world began to sink into the darkness of night and Hadjar felt something come to life. Something that wanted his soul.
“I’ll buy you some time, my kin.” The dragon sniffed the air and exhaled. Bright moonlight spiraled around the mountain, burning the darkness and driving it away until everything was bathed in silver. “Go. Three warriors are waiting for you. They’ll decide whether you’re worthy.”
The dragon folded its wings again and disappeared in a swirl of blue wind, which surprised Hadjar, who’d expected the Lord of the Heavens to sink back into the ground like everything else had.
A bright star fell from the black velvet. It turned into a laughing little man and crashed into the mountain. Blue flames followed the explosion, washing away the forest, rivers, streams, and fields. Yellow smoke billowed into the sky, blocking out the stars and moonlight, giving the darkness a chance to crawl out of its hiding place and start clawing its way toward Hadjar’s soul once more.
However, a moment later, it took a few steps back, letting out a pitiful grunt. A red deer rose from the flames that spread across the green meadow. Its hooves were blue fire, and its branching horns looked like sharpened spears.
Near the deer, a huge monster emerged from the veil of dust, ash, and sulfur. If it had wings, it would’ve looked like a dragon.
Then a man appeared out of a lightning bolt that merged with the raging blue fire. His long, white hair, shining with energy, merged with the clouds. A tunic made of gold lightning covered his torso. Below his waist, it merged with the fire covering his legs.
“We greet you,” three voices thundered in unison.
Hadjar presumed that they were a metaphor for something, but he didn’t know what. Perhaps one day, when he could come back on his own, he would figure it out. Or maybe the warriors would feel the fragment of the Enemy’s soul inside him and end his life then and there.
Not knowing how to salute them, Hadjar just bowed.
“Did you…”
“…come…”
“...seeking power?”
The way they spoke made Hadjar feel uneasy. It felt like they were being controlled by a single consciousness.
“Yes,” he answered. “I need more power.”
“Then…”
“…pass…”
“…our test.”
Before Hadjar could ask what that test was, he heard a child laughing behind him. Turning around, he saw a house in the middle of a wheat field. A beautiful young woman sat on the porch. A little girl with blue eyes and golden hair was braiding her mother’s hair. Hadjar recognized them.
“You’re back,” a voice sounded above him.
Just like when he’d been a child, Hadjar tilted his head back until his neck cracked to see his father’s face. His father smiled warmly at him. He’d always smiled like that when looking at Hadjar frolicking about the place.
The little Hadjar, grimy but happy, stood in the middle of the field with a wounded hare in his hands. He’d saved it from a young fox that had left a few deep scratches on his hands and broken his wooden sword. There was no honor in hunting the wounded. His father had taught him that.
“Hi, dad,” the little Hadjar, holding the rabbit with his right hand, put his left arm around his father’s leg. He couldn’t reach any higher.
“Let’s go.”
Hugging the boy, the man started walking to the house. There, his wife sewed, sitting in an armchair, and his daughter waved her hand at them in greeting.
Suddenly, the boy turned and looked into Hadjar’s eyes.
“Do you want to come with us?” He asked.
The man turned as well. He, like his son, looked into Hadjar’s eyes, but remained silent. There, standing on the threshold of the house of his forefathers, his family was waiting for him. It had been so long… By the Evening Stars and the High Heavens, Hadjar wanted to take a step forward more than anything. But he couldn’t.
“Not yet,” he barely managed to say.
The boy smiled and the field and the house began to disappear. Just for a moment, he felt like he could hear his father’s kind voice telling him to take his time.
Swallowing a lump in his throat, Hadjar was left standing in the middle of the green meadow yet again. Neither the mountain nor the three warriors were there. All he could hear were their thundering voices:
“Warrior…”
“...the Tree of Souls…”
“...is waiting for you.”
Chapter 584
Hadjar, now alone with his fleeting memories and the upcoming night, clutched at his chest ― at his dragon heart.
“It hurts,” he croaked. “It hurts!”
“Hearts always hurt the most.”
He turned around.
A fountain of light suddenly flared up in the middle of the meadow. When it dissolved, millions of stone islands adorned with emerald grass formed beneath the starlight. They emanated a steady light that merged with the glow of the blue crystals that supported them.
On one of the three largest islands, to his left, was a tree with scarlet leaves. A girl made of light sat at the foot of the tree. A star shone in her chest. On the right island, a cluster of lights in the shape of a deer grazed the emerald grass. A star also shone in its chest. On the center one, shining with the light of precious stones and connecting the crystals of the many stone islands with its roots, a tree bloomed.
“I greet you, wanderer.”
At first, Hadjar thought that it was the girl who had greeted him, but she was silently playing with the birds that were swooping down from the black velvet of the starry sky. He turned to the deer, but it, too, was silent, too busy grazing.
“Who are you?”
“We’ve met before,” the glow of the night spoke. “Long ago, in a cave. We met at the crossroads of life and time.”
Hadjar looked at the girl again. The tree she was sitting under seemed familiar.
“Are you the Tree of Life?”
“The Tree of Souls,” it corrected him. “In this world, I am the Tree of Souls.”
“You speak more clearly here.” Hadjar smirked.
The stars twinkled as if the tree was laughing.
“I’m not speaking more clearly, you just understand more now. This world affects you as much as you affect it.”
“Do I really affect the Spirit world?"
Another twinkle.
“Look around, wanderer,” the Tree whispered.
Hadjar did. Behind him, there was a vast meadow with a hill. Atop the hill was a stone. The stone on which his Master had once sat.
“It’s-”
“The world of your soul,” the Tree of Souls confirmed. “The Spirit World is inside your soul, not the other way around.”
Hadjar wanted to ask the Tree to explain that a bit more, but he decided to remain silent as he didn’t even know where to start. He understood the little flower creature now: the weight of some questions really could crush someone who wasn’t ready to hear the answers to them.
“It’s time to make a choice, wanderer.” The Tr
ee sounded as if its voice was coming from somewhere far away.
The lights were starting to dim. Hadjar didn’t know whether this meant that night had fallen or if his demons were chasing him.
“What choice?” Hadjar shouted, as if trying to be heard over the darkness of his own impotence.
“Whether you want to accept your Spirit or not,” the Tree replied. “Not everyone who accepts their Spirit can live with it. After all, it’s much easier to live with a gnawing emptiness than to feel your own soul pulling you into the abyss.”
Memories of the years he’d spent in the world of illusions created by the orc shaman flashed before Hadjar’s eyes. He’d lavished in that emptiness, allowing it to devour him from the inside. But even then, he’d fought back and continued to search for meaning despite the emptiness consuming everything he’d touched.
The red tattoo on Hadjar’s right arm flashed.
“A wise choice.” The Tree’s branches swayed. “Now hurry up, your darkness is here.”
Swallowed by the darkness, the stars faded one by one. The wind changed from refreshing to bitterly cold. Night was approaching.
“To honor our last encounter, I’ll help you, wanderer.”
Starlight shrouded Hadjar and turned into a bird. It took him in its beak and flew toward the Tree. As they were about to collide with it, the world was suddenly plunged into a cold, thick darkness full of loneliness and despair. Hadjar knew it well. Too well. It was the darkness of the dungeon Primus had thrown him in so long ago.
“Not so fast, my descendant.”
Hadjar recognized the voice that had often come to him in his nightmares, whispering evil things. Had his father been stronger, it had said, Primus wouldn’t have been able to destroy his family. Had his mother been a little wiser, she would’ve found out about the traitor’s plans. Had he never had a sister or a brother, he wouldn’t have suffered as much. It was a familiar voice — the Enemy’s voice.
“What are you doing here?” Hadjar asked.
“The same as you, my descendant,” the Black General said. “This is my world, too. I’m a part of you, and you’re a part of me.”
Hadjar shivered. Whatever Steppe Fang said, whatever the Black Spirit had once been, the only things that mattered now were what he had become and what he wanted to do. Here, in the Spirit World, Hadjar could sense his ancestor’s true intentions — he was eager to devour his soul.
Dragon Heart: Land of Demons. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 7 Page 20