The Root of Hope

Prologue

A World before Worlds

One night, after a long trek through the lands of grass, blue flowers, and snow, our group stopped. Of the original tribes that began the trek after Noc, the elder that forged our alliance, was kidnapped by the First Demon, only a few remain with us. These lands were considered sacred and dangerous, for they were filled with ruins of ancient tall people, the same people I keep seeing as kaa’mani—ghosts as the human female, the Seer, called them. She and the other human leader, a male from Old Earth, decided to leave most of their group behind for safety, including their kindred, as they were small and rambunctious. The Prophet, a samoharo, came mostly alone, save for a couple of followers with him, carrying his large, black curved sword that sung to the stars. His metal birds that screamed into the air a distant image in my mind. And with me, only Yahel—my secret heartmate—and my childhood friend Marfel came with me. The elders were fearful that this newfound power of creating miracles was a bad omen, despite assurances by the Stranger that they were a blessing from the Mother of Warmth Water.

The four of us, the Prophet, the male human, the Seer, and myself, gathered around a fire away from the main camp. The male human wished to talk in secret about fears and concerns that shouldn’t be shared with the volunteers.

As soon as we were warm enough, the human male asked us: Have you ever seen the creature we are tracking? Or their kind? Are there songs and tales about where it came from?

To this the Prophet, who rested on his side with his head on his hand, said nothing, remaining in sad silence. I have heard songs about their mother world becoming dust in the dark.

To this, I said I knew nothing, for before the migration from our mother world through the gates made of light, I was a simple eldara that weaved baskets from reeds.

To this, the Seer replied that the same creature had been behind the destruction of Old Earth. And that the weapon it had used on their mother world, at the time when they were helping and protecting refugees as they entered their star ark, unleashed an invisible miasma, which she called radiation, and had given them a lethal disease that she called cancer. Because of that none of them would see their kindred grow. The human male explained their days were short now and that was why they had volunteered for the mission, as they knew there would be no return.

To this, I shook in fear, for a creature that powerful would crush this simple reed weaver. And then I recalled the stories and songs from the elders, telling us when our mother star became a dark eye surrounded by a ring of fire and the world became slow.  I wondered if the creature had been the curse that changed our mother star into the corpse of fire.

And I cried in fear.

It was then that the Stranger spoke.

As in days before, their voice came first. It sounded both deep and forceful as the human male, and kind and sweet as the human female.

Then came the feathers of light that dissipated as soon as we touched them.

And from the darkness, with glowing eyes, came the Stranger. The being that brought us here from our mother worlds, that chose us for this quest. The one that blessed me with the change and the miracles. The one that looked like me.

The one that the humans called The Trickster, for they spoke of things to be, things to come, things to guess.

They were as mighty as the samoharo Prophet, who silently nodded their way, as if they were old friends, old relatives.

They seemed as indomitable as the human Seer that welcomed them with open arms for she was always friendly with the Stranger. And as indomitable as the human male that regarded them with suspicion.

Of me, a simple changeling girl, they only said that the freefolk—the name they gifted the eldara with—after me would be powerful. Maybe they would be powerful weavers of reeds.

The Stranger took a seat among us and sighed. Their visage shifted to match the human female Seer, but also shared eldara features, for we were genderless shapeshifters of grey skin and large colorful eyes. The Stranger smiled at me as if they could read my thoughts. They said that two of her own, her kindred, shaped after humans and eldara, would join us soon as our quest was near its end, as we were closer to the Tree that shone in the night with the light of the stars. Also we would need their help.

The Seer asked if that aid was related to the dreams of doom she suffered.

To this the Stranger said no word.

The human male asked his questions once more, for he had seen the creature before leaving their mother world, the last of his kind to leave Old Earth and come into the Great Ark that brought humans to this new mother world. He called the Stranger a Trickster, who played rousing songs. But his words were not filled with anger, but with fear, sadness, and piety. He asked for wisdom and comfort, to know he hadn’t lost his mind, for the creature belonged to the ancient songs and tales of Old Earth and seeing it face to face had shattered his heart and broken their bodies.

To this, the Stranger sighed and acquiesced, acknowledging that from now on their name would be the Trickster, for it was penance for their many transgressions, of which they said nothing more.

The Trickster blew a sweet wind on the fire, and it changed its color, to match the rainbow, and inside it, images formed that matched their words.

They talked of a time before time had a meaning, before the humans sung their first words, before the samoharo chased their first star, before we swam the first wave. Of a World before Worlds, when the World of the Spirit, the World of the Thoughts, and the World of the Stuff were one, and only the ancient tall people lived there. They were what humans, and samoharo, and eldara called Gods.

It was a world where reality was made after thought and the miracles were made by all. A world where Kaan’a had went to sleep the sleep that dreamt the universe, and the Tree they had planted grew in blessings. In this world there was a brilliant ancient, tall person who cast a dark shadow in his wake. He led a group of inquiring minds who searched for the answers to the questions we all ask during the nights: who we are, where we came from, why we can choose. These questions had been raised to Kaan’a but they remained asleep and refused to answer, their voice saying only that the universe was and it was the fate of the ancient tall people to assign a value of things to existence.

But the brightest one rebelled, for he considered it ill-suited. Not enough. He sought more knowledge and tried to convince his siblings to aid him. The sibling of the paths refused, the sibling of the sword refused, the sibling of the undying fire remained silent, the sibling of the scythe left, and the sibling of the trumpet accepted, at first.

But when the sibling of the trumpet realized the folly in the plan of the brightest one, they advised against it. Kaan’a in punishment, erased the minds of all the siblings, but the brightest one was stronger than the deliverance.

The brightest one and his followers, thousands by now, built a Great Machine, that allowed them to peek beyond the veil of Kaan’a’s dream, beyond the birth of universe. And what they saw brought them madness, for beyond the veil there was a dark void, where beings of incoherence that were begotten even before Kaan’a were trapped. And the brightest knew that they were at the beginning and the end of all things, only the Universe itself keeping them at bay in dreams.

And the brightest one knew insanity, for he and his followers began a war against his siblings, against the First Heaven, against Kaan’a themselves.

Thus, the Universe restored the minds and memories of the siblings and gifted them with knowledge. They awakened the ancient Aditis, machines from before time to use as weapons of protection.

But the brightest one had awakened his own Aditi, and to battle they went.

The conflict was terrible, for things died before being born, for things never were after long existence. Stars became dark eyes and dark eyes ate everything.

But as happens with siblings playing on the shore of the sea, a truce came to be, for one of the creatures threatened to escape. To this the siblings begged Kaan’a for forgiveness and help—and the Universe replied with a second birth. A new dream.

The World of Spirit, the World of Thought, and the World of Matter became separate from each other, three realms only tied together as three sticks, by a terrible tempest born of the friction between the three of them. And in the center of the three realms there was a mother world with a single star and a single moon with rings around it. There would reside the ancient tall people made flesh, punished to be mortals, their godly powers contained, forced to teach others that would be born in this new realm how to contact and dwell in the other two.

Above and below the three, two more worlds were created.

Above, a Last Heaven for the surviving Gods to reside and repair the Universe, as most were forbidden to enter the three realms aside dreams and nightmares, aside voices in the air and miracles unseen, for they took no part in the conflict.

Below, a world with no light, of brimstone and sulphur, thousands of layers deep, each layer a labyrinth designed to contain the worst of the rebels and those that would listen to them, but even more important, to contain the beings from before time, of incoherence, from reaching the Universe ever again.

All of these new realms connected by the Tree that symbolized hope and whose fruits were our very own souls. Its seeds, carried in a bag by the soul of an ancient hero dreamt by the Universe, would create new mother worlds where new living beings would evolve, for they were the answer against the beings of incoherence.

The brightest sibling, now the dark one with ruby eyes, became judge and jailer of all the new and old beings that would rise against their siblings again.

Of the other three siblings, one was sent to prophesize, one to guard, and the trumpet one, twin sister to the brightest one, to redeem herself by inspiring and teaching the old and new beings, aided by their kin, the ancient people.

One of the scythe became the gatekeeper between the Spirit and the Matter Worlds. For the friction there was the strongest once souls tried to travel between Worlds, creating a Tempest.

With time the ancient people grew small and passed away but were barred from entering the World of Spirit and the Last Heaven, until their transgressions were repaired tenfold. They became kaa’mani: Ghosts in their own world.

The siblings were gods themselves and truly tried to take better care of this new Universe dreamt by Kaan’a. However, a creature of incoherence briefly slipped through the cracks of its original prison during the war and corrupted a third of the rebels, for it had seen and tasted reality, and reality was painful. It swore to escape one day and destroy that reality, one mother world, one star at a time if needed, so there were no surviving seeds of the Tree. A day would come that the creature of incoherence would destroy the Tree itself and then reach Kaan’a in their sleep to murder them and end all things. So its own siblings could exist in a painless nothingness.

The Trickster became silent after this. She had adopted a form more like the human Seer or mine. We realized she was the sibling of the trumpet.

The Prophet only acknowledged, for he claimed that in his veins the blood of the sibling of the paths ran, and his mother world had been destroyed by followers of the creature. And the humans connected the destruction of Old Earth with the myths of their past, having witnessed the creature firsthand.

They were the ones that bestowed it the name of the First Demon.

But the Trickster called it Abaddon, the first destroyer.

And when Abaddon became one with the World of Matter he sought to capture Noc, the mortal that knew where the Tree was located, for Abaddon had destroyed many worlds and was closer to his goal. And Noc, while he looked human, and had lived among humans, was the last living ancient people. The Trickster called him Akeleth, the Messengers.

And then the Trickster stood up, revealing her form as Goddess, cracking the world, and said to the winds with many voices as one, that echoed into the air as trumpets: This has been agreed, as is above is below and my words are blessed by the Universe.

For the Blood of the Prophet runs among his children, the samoharo, travelers among the stars, making them blood of my blood, they are fit to fight Abaddon with fist and a sword made of Night Sky.

For the blood of Kaan’a and the stars runs in this simple girl, weaver of reeds, of the humble eldara of a lonely world, making her from now own weaver of reality. And she and those who follow her in her change, are fit to fight Abaddon with mind and a gemstone made of Life and Soul.

Then the Trickster looked at the human couple with sadness and said: For the blood of the akeleth shall run in the veins of all who follow you after this. For both are dying after saving their tribe. And I say, he is to be reborn now with the Gift, to be fit to fight Abaddon with heart and light made steel in his hands. And she is to be reborn to become Yaha, which means The Light of Hope.

The Prophet kneeled before the Trickster and cut his thumb, drawing blood and the drops of blood glowed like stars. He swore: My people will honor thy covenant, defending and guiding our younger allies in this quest. And its glow will resonate on every samoharo that joins the Covenant.

I knelt in pain as my body changed to be able to absorb the power of the stars. I saw for the first time the webs that made reality, matter, spirit, thought, and I saw I could weave them. But the pain was such that I screamed. Then two soft arms wrapped around me, for the Seer took me in her arms to share my pain in her already pained body, and we became soul and matter sisters. For my body began its slow change to become like hers, in almost all aspects but my large, colorful eyes, and her mind became similar to mine for she shared the sight of the web of reality. From then on Freefolk and Human were siblings, and I swore to teach both to weave reality.

The human male tried to kneel but instead collapsed as his ill body failed. Lighting struck him as the Trickster ordered one of the kaa’mani to merge with his dying body. He then rose as the first Gifted, embodiment of the elements of nature, lightning coming from his eyes. He swore that those of his kin that gave their lives for others will become one with the elements. And the Prophet said that of the Gifted, those that rode the storm, would be known from then on as Iskandar.

The Trickster whispered words into the ears of the Seer. Words that I heard but will never repeat. And the Seer’s heart became filled with fear, determination, and hope in equal measures—for those words were of the future.

The Trickster’s final words of that night still ring true today: For your three species have raised by their own will among the countless stars and shall achieve what we were unable to. For the Samoharo are mighty, the Freefolk are powerful, and the Humans are Indomitable. Together the three are Unstoppable. We the Akeleth, leave Reality in your hands.

As the two Moons appeared in the sky, the Round and the Long, portents of fate, the Trickster left, flying away in the shape of a bird the humans called ‘raven.’ And they hugged each other in tears, for their personal fate had been cast.

With the truth of our mission revealed, our hearts grew heavy. We remained silent, deep in our thoughts, for a truth had been unveiled and truth is always a difficult present to accept. Yet inside my heart I sensed our resolves grow firm, for while the creature was one made of multiple nightmares, our journey had become one of survival.

Excerpt taken from the remains of the

‘Grimoire of Asherah’.

Part of the Ravenstone book collection.

Loaned to the Foundation for study by the

Freefolk Librarian Stealth Drakglass.

Translated to Core by Harland Rickman,

Professor Vivienne Ortiga, and

Hon. Samantha Ambers-Estel

Chapter 1

Of Victories and Defeats

"It’s not the journey that matters,

it’s with whom you shared it."

Belfrost’s Open Concert Hall

Hildebrantia’s Tour restart concert, sold out.

Anxious? Joshua asked Gaby as his hands trembled.

Gaby stood in the wings, shaking her hands to get rid of the nerves, waiting for the signal. Her outfit was black leather pants with black leather boots, a blue crop-top with a sheer fabric covered in rhinestones below the neck. Over that, a silver jacket. Both wrists were covered with bracelets, including her silver heartmate engagement bracelet with dragonwolf and the pearl. It had been inspired by the one from her mental battle with the tovainar Gavito months ago, but in real life the engagement bracelet was tighter than she’d expected for some unforeseen reason. But there was nothing to be done for it now as she was about to take to her battlefield: an open-air concert.

A part of her—the Izia part, as Gaby now had access to all the memories and emotions of her previous life—was anxious about not being on the actual battlefield, which was kilometers away, deep in the Jagged Mountains. There her friends, her family, were about to do the craziest thing: launch a direct attack on the last base of the Golden King. But everyone was to play a role and hers was to offer a distraction, thanks to the concert being broadcast from Belfrost to the entire region via the recently repaired communications network. Given that her battlebard enhancing qualities traveled through the broadcast, in a way she would be participating, inspiring her found family and increasing their abilities.

Gaby’s second reason was that it was almost certain that he would be watching the concert from the base. Not the Golden King, but one of his advisors, her own father. This was another reason she had opted out of the mission. It would be too personal for her, and beating the crap out of her man could prove distracting. It was already a risky plan, and they all knew it.

There was a third reason why everyone had voted for her to remain behind. She looked down at her belly and rubbed it with her right hand, smiling. It was a whole new sensation. From now on, but especially the next few months, she would have to be more careful when it came to the heroic side of her life. Which was also the reason Hildebrandtia had added a new member, making it now a five-person band instead of four. Of course, the new band member also moonlighted as her personal bodyguard in case someone tried something during the concert. Which had made her nervous, but not as much as it affected the new guitarist.

Not as much as you, apparently, Gaby replied with her crooked smile.

It’s my first concert as a new member of Hildebrandtia. I never played in public, Joshua admitted, as a small flame threatened to set fire to his instrument. Not a fan of being in the spotlight.

You get used to it, Gaby replied, as she put the fire out. The smoke from the short-lived flame was faintly acrid, but not so much so to be bitter. It was just there. Although, to be fair, what the others are about to do is less nerve-wracking.

The stagehand tapped her shoulder; everything was ready to begin. Her Hildebrantia’s bandmates were already on stage, waiting for her entrance. She took to the stage, microphone in her left hand and her right raised, waving to the audience to greet them and pump their energy. A couple of minutes into the concert, the rest of the poorly named Band of the Greywolf would be taking to their own stage.

Hello, Belfrost! Gaby yelled into the microphone. Thank you for the warm welcome! We have exciting news, although if you follow gossip news you already know. So, without further ado let’s give our new and very nervous guitarist, Joshua, an even warmer welcome! He can take the heat!

Joshua entered the stage, playing a riff on the guitar and took his place to Gaby’s right. No one could deny that Gaby knew how to work a crowd. She was in her element.

Are you ready to rock? Gaby yelled to the cheerful reply of the attendees. She smiled as she placed the mic on the stand. I can’t hear you! Are you ready to rock?

Yes! the audience replied in unison.

Gaby began to sign the lyrics of a new song from a new album entitled Subconscious Serendipity.

It was her stage, it was her band, and it was her song.

Let’s see what tomorrow will bring.

Time to make a choice.

If the world weighs you down, you

Raise your voice!

For every time they tell you to close your mouth.

For every time, that they want to count you out,

Keep fighting!

† † †

Alex knocked on the door of the fortress once more. By now, the concert must have started. He could feel in his bones as his comms played Gaby’s song. He couldn’t avoid tapping the snow-covered ground to the beats from the band’s drummer, Scud. He smiled. Because for the first time in… ever, no one had complained about his plan. On the contrary, all took it and expanded upon it and even left the craziest aspect of it intact, which was based around the idea that there was no point in infiltrating a fortress when they were expecting you. What the enemy doesn’t expect is a guy, wearing a blatantly fake moustache, nose, glasses, and a delivery service cap, holding a pizza box in one hand while knocking on the door.

Hey! Alex yelled. This pizza is getting cold and I’m not gonna pay for it when I arrived before the thirty minutes’ warranty. Which was not easy given that your address is a lonely gloomy fortress in the middle of a mountain range! Are you going to receive it or not? I don’t get paid enough for this shit!

You technically don’t get paid to deliver pizza, Sid’s voice whispered in his ears.

Yeah, but they don’t know that, Alex said with a smile. Frigg it, is everyone in position?

Yes, Sam replied behind him.

Then I’m gonna knock down that door, Alex replied, placing the pizza on the ground. What a waste of good pizza.

But the doors to the castle opened on their own. Alex shrugged, and walked through the threshold as he hit his arm bracers together to summon his tactical gear. A vest he had designed years ago, plus protection for legs, grew over his regular clothes like creeping vines that melded together into a solid form. Blue energy lines ran across seams, powering the gear. He touched a gem on one of his bracers which glowed for a second, summoning to his hand his Tempest Blade, Yaha, which he placed in the sheath on the back of his vest. This new version worked in a similar fashion to samoharo battle armor. It had taken all of the Foundation’s technical resources to develop two suits of armor, one for him and one for Sam. They needed it given that they were the crux of the plan.

As Alex stepped into the front yard, he heard the cocking of guns and the firing of bullets. His irises glowed with the familiar golden hue as he extended his hands in front of him, and all the bullets stopped in mid-air. He closed his hands and the bullets dropped to the ground with a clatter.

My turn, Alex said. On his left wrist a bracelet with a bow charm began to glow. Circles rapidly orbited around it, materializing a golden bow engraved with runes emitting blue light. When Forge had given him back the bracelet after defeating Shemazay, it hadn’t been a token of friendship. The freefolk weaponsmith had placed on it a new bow that would allow Alex to shoot energy arrows without risking his health or depleting his Gift again.

As the guards ran to take better shooting positions, Alex released energy arrows in quick succession, taking out four guards that fell to the ground with loud thuds from the battlements. He was taking aim at a couple of guards to his left when from his right he heard an explosion. A bullet the size of a melon had been fired his way.

Before Alex could react, the bullet crashed against an invisible shield that flickered with spastic purple hexagons. The air was filled with the smell of bubblegum as the sound of heels clacking on the ground echoed around the walls. A red headed woman in boots, a wagging fox tail, and a black dress—like the one she had created for her magickal duel against the fallen god Shemazay but made from the same nanomaterial as Alex’ gear—entered the yard. She wore a crystal pendant that rested against her chest, hooked on a silver dragon claw. The pendant emitted a lilac light that matched the light running through the seams of her dress.

Watch your six, hon, Sam said as she stood next to one of her heartmates.

I thought you were watching my six, Alex said. Guards kept coming, seemingly from every door, guns blazing, bullets bouncing against the Bubble shield, Sam’s True Spell that she could cast with a thought.

That’s no excuse to not notice the cannon shooting at you, Sam said. What am I gonna tell Kasumi if something happens to you?

"Good point, she would probably kill me, Alex said with a nod. How’s the gear?"

A bit tight, Sam replied as she summoned a white and crystal quarterstaff from one of her bracers. Needs some adjustments. But I’m not planning to jump around like you will. The advantage of being the magick caster. And speaking of magick users, look!

From the main door, a group of robed figures—members of the human exclusive cult known as the Brotherhood of Gadol arrived—carrying their grimoires.

How long do we have to keep this? I mean, stalling, Alex asked.

Just a few more seconds, Sam replied as she closed her eyes. Alex knew she was using a tracking spell to find out where Kasumi was, as Sam had placed enchantments on them to always know where they were. She was worried that the physical combat members of their throuple would get into trouble. Alex liked that, it saved time on this kind of thing. Sam opened her eyes. She’s in. Now, there you go.

Finally, some fun. Alex smiled as he collapsed the bow, summoned Yaha, which disappeared from the back sheath and materialized in his right hand.

Be careful, hon, Sam said as the shield opened to allow Alex to jump at the guards, using Yaha to deflect the bullets and cut down their weapons.

Alex and Sam made quick work of the guards. Both worked in silent coordination, the result of the absolute trust they had in each other coupled with having survived way too many battles by their age. If Kasumi were with them, the fight would’ve been over faster, but she had her own mission alongside Yokoyawa, and thus Sam and Alex were trying to keep as many enemy resources tied up as possible.

How cute! Sam grinned as the cultists read from their grimoires, carrying out their hasty rituals to summon their spells, their familiars, and sick them on her and Alex.

Don’t mock them, Alex said. Freefolk have natural affinity to magick, we don’t.

I’m not mocking them for that, Sam said as a goblinoid familiar went for her throat. She gave it a heavy hit from her quarterstaff. I’m mocking them because they think they can summon something to actually hurt us.

What? You want them to summon a dragon? They are a bit dead.

That might not be an issue, y’know?

"Let’s talk about that after we finish here and are at home with Kasumi. Last thing we need is a zombie dragon flying around."

Spoilsport.

You notice the irony of me pushing pause on your plan, right?

Sam only shook her head and chuckled, as Alex and her kept dealing with their attackers. It had worked, though. They had attracted the attention of what felt like all the guards and magick wielding cultists, making short work of them. As they did so, a series of vines grew all over the place, covering