Wraithwood Botanist

B2 | Chapter 100 - Lysan’s Return

"Lithco," I said, reading the tribute screen. "Can you help me really quick?"

A sudden thump and crash in the chimney made me yelp and stumble off my chair, and when I turned to the source of the sound, my face twisted into a nasty scowl.

Lithco crawled out of the fireplace, covered in soot, wearing a red and white Santa suit, hat and all.

"Seriously?" I asked as the lurvine looked at me like a paranoid schizophrenic.

"Seriously," Lithco said, pulling off his hand and pounding it on his hand to release charcoal. "Thank you for asking politely this time. Makes all the difference."

"I regret it."

"I’m sure you do." Lithco pulled out one of my chairs and sat down, surprised it didn’t snap under him. "Good work."

"Thanks..." I sighed, pushing myself up.

"What did you want to talk about?" he asked as I sat down.

"This tribute... This’s just to push north, isn’t it?"

Lithco smiled thinly. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, for starters, six out of the seven named plants aren’t alchemic. Four are mildly poisonous, and the other two are decorative at best. And the one that is alchemic has prolific alternatives pretty much everywhere."

"Then why does she want them?" he mused.

"Because they’re Fifth Ring plants," I said. "Mostly. They grow on the border between the Fourth and Fifth Rings. But the second requirement: twenty random specimens picked within Misty Row, even if they grow within the Fourth Domain, proves that she wants me to move north."

"Detective Hill strikes again," Lithco said. "Just curious, why’d you feel the need to ask me the obvious?"

"To complain," I said.

"Honesty doesn’t make things more agreeable—or charming."

"I don’t care if... whatever. Lithco, what’s Misty Row?"

"Now that... that’s an important question. Misty Row is a Bramble, of sorts. It acts as the challenge to move from the Fourth to the Fifth Rings."

"You got to be kidding me."

"I’m not." Lithco pulled a cup from midair and used a heated water sphere to make himself a cup of tea as he elaborated. "But unlike the Bramble, this one’s more familiar."

"What is it?"

"It’s a hollow. That’s an area where souls attempt to separate, resulting in soul fog. You’ve already experienced this, yes?"

"You mean like near the crypt?"

"Yes." Lithco sipped his tea, giving me an urge to make one myself. I had a tin of tea leaves following the trading during the Harvest, so I made myself one as I continued.

"So she saw me narrowly survive one hollow, now she’s been emboldened?"

"Emboldened? The way I read it, she wants you to show up and challenge it yourself. It seems silly to let you collect twenty random plants one foot into Misty Row unless she wants you to prioritize your safety if something goes wrong. She’s trusting you won’t skimp, but also accounting for your well being. If you ask me, this is a sign she values you."

"Oh... Now I feel bad." I whispered, boiling water for tea on a heating array.

"Don’t worry, she can’t hear you," Lithco said. "It would be chaos if gods could directly spy through the eyes of their disciples."

"I don’t care..." I said. "Elana’s been good to me. As long as she doesn’t fuck me over, I want to do her right, too. That’s the honest truth."

Lithco laughed breathlessly. "Just wait till you get there. No tribute’s ever free."

Lysan hope for the first time since coming to this forest—

—but it didn’t last long.

An icy spider crawled down her back, and she felt goosebumps freckle up her arms even within her jacket. She immediately activated a divination pulse, searching for mana signatures within half a mile from her—and found nothing of interest.

Trap? Lysan silently asked. But... what type?

She would see amateur mana traps and enchantments. Mira didn’t have enough skill to hide anything from her—but what if she weren’t alone? What if there was a hermit living in the forest, training her? Lysan was expecting as much, but Mira was alone and there were no signs of traps.

You’re just paranoid... Lysan thought. But the hairs on her arms still stood on end, and her body was locking up. And you can’t afford to turn back... tomorrow they’ll know... they’ll be hunting you. You have to do it. It’s her or you; she’s gotta go.

Suddenly, an icy chill approached from behind her. Her body locked up and she checked her divination pulse.

Nothing.

Yet she could feel a strong wave of aura, so she forced herself to turn—the last motion of her life.

A beautiful woman stood behind her, a wraith, blindfolded and wearing broken shackles as jewelry. Her body was slightly transparent, dripping with aura and malice.

By human reflex alone, she opened her mouth to scream from the fear and shock, but a blade of raw aura sliced through her throat and voice box.

Lysan grabbed her throat as she hit her knees, trying to keep the blood in her body. She looked down, expecting the ground to be soaked red, but her blood was flowing upward. She looked up and saw it bubbling in a Levisphere.

She panicked and tried to grab her Diktyo water, but the wraith kicked it out of her hand and then started dragging her through the forest as she choked on her blood. With every second, Lysan increasingly lost focus, but she was alive long enough to see her final destination.

It was a natural trench between two boulders, a natural grave.

The wraith threw the bloodsphere right into it, then she picked Lysan up by the hair, lifting her blindfold so she could look in her eyes.

What Lysan saw chilled her to the bone.

Her eyes were identical to Mira’s.

And the scorn in her eyes danced with feelings of betrayal. Betrayal... as if Mira would’ve invited her. What a joke. Mira was a killer. She had her cat slaughter people while she smiled and laughed and traded with people, then left camp to trap and kill her entire party. She was a psychopath.

The wraith’s eyes filled with indignation and she lifted her sword to finish her off, but before she ran the sword through her lungs, the wraith turned into the forest.

Lysan followed her eyes the best she could, and found her vision doubling. Six sets of paw prints imprinted in the snow from an invisible body, eerily silent, moving forward.

The part of Lysan that wanted to survive, did one last scan and found three large cats.

You... she silently declared, vision blurring, confused.

It was Mira’s cat—but there were three. And they weren’t illusions. Each had mana channels moving through an ethereal body.

What...?

Lysan activated soul sight as the cat paused, and she saw that only one had a soul core. The others only had a skeleton of nearan networks in its brain and nervous system.

These weren’t illusionary dopples.

They were ethereal clones.

The cat narrowed his eyes at her, and then meowed at the wraith. The wraith looked at her and then nodded, throwing Lysan’s body before the cat.

She hit the ground with a thud, gasping for breath while one cat pressed its palm on her lower spine, the second grabbed her hair and pulled her flat, and the third put its canines on the area where her soul core was located. Then she felt a piercing pain and she blacked out.

2.

I woke up one morning with a teal soul core on the table, in addition to a sword, a dozen vials, some equipment, a bunched up pair of pants, and some boots. The sight left me with a horrified sense of dread.