Flower looks good, very good. The network of Energy channels which I saw during her Evolutions is still there, the largest of them remaining as lightly pulsing lines stretching over her skin, glowing the soft green of her mana. I hadn’t realised that they reflected the Energy matrix until now, and I wonder if that’s a bit of a weakness. After all, what if it’s possible to disrupt the Energy channels if the lines are physically damaged? Something to investigate, perhaps – carefully.

  As for the rest of her physical appearance, like Windy, she’s shrunk a little bit, but not by as much as the other Enlightened samuran. She looks stronger, in fact, More…present. Curious, I pull up Flower’s new stats. Seeing them, I whistle quietly to myself even as the crowd around me starts surging forwards, wanting to inspect and congratulate the newest Enlightened Pathwalker.

  Better than Windy’s even, Flower has definitely increased significantly in power. She’s beaten Windy in every category, though not by much when it comes to her life expectancy. I don’t even need to look over at the other samuran to sense that she’s currently feeling intense jealousy. I might have to keep my eye on her, to make sure that the jealousy doesn’t turn into anything more…violent.

  Windy hasn’t shown any signs of being willing to attack her own sisters, not outside a normal ranking fight, anyway, but who knows what might happen when she’s finally got the attention she ‘deserves’ – according to her – and is now having to share that with another of her sisters? Hopefully her jealousy will ebb as she gets used to sharing the top spot.

  And, if I can swing it at all, she’ll soon be sharing it with Tarra as well. The herbalist is within a couple of percent of Evolution, though that doesn’t necessarily mean she’ll reach it before I leave – she’s been at that same point for several months already. I hope that finding out exactly what allowed Flower to leap-frog to Evolution will help Tarra too. Hopefully having those two in the top spot will prevent Windy from using her influence to completely destroy what I’ve created here.

  My eyes are drawn to Flower’s new abilities. And they are all new. Originally, she had Enhanced Growth and Fertility. My understanding of both of those was that she could grow living things – plants in particular – by feeding mana into them. Fertility was never entirely clear to me, but I think that she could enhance the chances that a reproductive act would produce offspring. She used the combination to great effect when establishing the fields for farming as she was able to cause the plants to grow and multiply rapidly. She also helped the animals to multiply more quickly, though the effects were less obvious there since there was a limit to just how quickly she could help the offspring to grow and mature, even with the use of Tarra’s potions.

  Now, though, she’s gained access to two Shaping Skills! At the cost, I suspect, of reducing how much she will be able to impact the animal side of the farming operation. Certainly, Plant-Shaping won’t be able to help the animals grow in the way that Enhanced Growth did. But that she has also gained Earth-Shaping is a bit of a surprise.

  I have no idea what Synergism might be – I’ll have to ask her about that, or use Inspect on her and hope that it gives me details about her Abilities. As for Fecundity, I’m not sure what the difference between that and Fertility might be, though there must be something or why would the name have changed?

  “Alright everyone,” I call out as loudly as I can. Fortunately, even if Animal Empathy helps the samurans understand what I’m saying, it doesn’t actually translate my words into the grunts and clicks they use. My voice is therefore much louder than most of the murmured conversations going on around. “Show’s over. Council, back to the central space, please. Anyone who wants to watch, join us there.” Then I feel something very unwelcome: the first raindrops. And if the speed at which the next lands on my head is anything to go by, this storm cloud’s only minutes away from drenching us. I grimace. “Actually, scratch that. I think we’ll have to adjourn the council for today.’

  No need, Tamer. The voice is familiar but more full-bodied than it was the last time I heard it. I look over at Flower to see a peaceful, joyful expression on her face. I suddenly realise that there’s a patch of grass spreading around her. As she walks towards me, the crowd parting like the red sea, I can’t help shaking my head in more than a little amusement at what she leaves behind.

  She’s practically a Disney princess at this point, each footfall leaving grass, flowers, or vines behind. Or a mixture of all three. I hope she’ll gain control over that soon because right now it’s far too easy to follow her tracks as she walks back towards the central area.

  The raindrops landing on my head grow more frequent and I send an annoyed eye up at the sky. Couldn’t it have held off for just a little longer? Then again, if we’d finished our council session on time, we’d probably be in our huts by now. Flower’s ascension definitely derailed things a little bit. But I’m not going to complain.

  “OK,” I say to Flower as we reach the central area and she turns around to face us. “What are you planning on doing? We’re getting wet here.”

  Flower doesn’t respond, that serene happiness still present on her face. Instead, she raises her hands above her head and closes her eyes. For a moment, nothing happens, but we all remain silent – none of us are foolish enough to think that the wait means it’s not working.

  The earth shudders beneath our feet. Abruptly, a shoot appears behind Flower, rapidly growing until it’s far above her head. When it becomes level with a three-storey building, it explodes sideways, arching high above our heads like a tree’s canopy. The trunk thickens as the canopy extends towards the surrounding huts, though not by nearly as much as I was expecting. Instead, five root-like growths extend downwards from the branches at the far edges of the canopy, planting themselves in the ground near the walls of the huts.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  My eyebrows rise on my forehead as I stare around at the newly constructed shelter, amazed at how quickly it has come into being. I quickly notice something odd – it’s not just a tree.

  It has a trunk, branches, and canopy of leaves, yes. In fact, we could probably say that it has six trunks, though the one at the centre has slimmed down enough to barely be worthy of the name. But when I look up at the canopy above, I see glittering crystals as much as I do leaves, set in something which my Earth-Shaping tells me is clay. Together, the clay, crystals, and branches create a living roof which completely shelters us from the rain.

  It’s practical and absolutely beautiful. I’m suddenly excited to see it tomorrow morning – if it glitters so wonderfully with just the rune-inscribed lights, what might it appear like tomorrow in the sun? Though we’ll have to make sure that none of the crystals accidentally concentrate the light of the sun to dangerous levels, of course. I have no desire to be an ant burnt under a magnifying glass.

  I walk over to Flower. She looks completely exhausted, but there’s still that serene peacefulness in her face. Different and yet similar to Windy’s post-Evolution use of powers. I have to wonder whether it’s normal for a newly-Evolved Tier three to feel the need to push their new powers to the utmost – Windy created a lightning-laced cyclone; Flower has now created a gem-decorated arboreal bower.

  At the same time, the difference is that Flower appears to have had far more control over her powers than Windy did. Perhaps that’s the nature of them – I know how steady and reliable the Earth is; plants are probably not that dissimilar. Much different from the flighty Air. I can’t imagine Lightning is very calm either, though I haven’t had much experience with that element.

  Thinking about lightning, I wince as I hear a rumble overhead, eyeing the new tallest construction in our village nervously. At the edge of a massive plain, this gem-tree is now probably the most likely attraction for lightning around.

  “Your construction is beautiful,” I tell Flower honestly, “and I really want to hear about exactly what happened on your side both in the Evolution and post it, but right now I think I need to create a lightning rod to stop it being destroyed in the near future.”

  A little of that joyful serenity leaves her face and I feel a little sorry for having caused that. Embarrassment drifts my way through our Bond.

  I did not think of that, she admits. ‘I just wanted to create something…magnificent. That at the same time would help my village.

  “It’s fine,” I reassure her. “You’ve done a great job. My people are very familiar with ways to reduce the chances of tall structures from getting hit by lightning. I might need your help a little, though.”

  Of course, she answers quickly.

  “Happy?” I call. The samuran in question pushes through the crowd. Not that she needs to do much pushing – as soon as the samurans around her realise that the Amazonian Pathwalker wants to get through them, they quickly make way for her.

  Yes Markus? She asks. About to speak, my eyes are drawn to a very familiar ball of light bobbing over her shoulder. Relief goes through me as I spot it even as curiosity kindles. Is it bigger?

  “Traitor,” I accuse it playfully, pointing my finger at Aingeal. “I’m gone for a few days and now you have a new friend?” The fire elemental floats over to me, nudges at my skin close enough for it to burn a little, then bobs over my shoulder sending me a surprisingly complex packet of emotions.

  If I interpret it correctly, it’s scolding me a little for being away so long, but asserts that it will come to me whenever I ask it to. As it bobs, it sends a plaintive feel and something that can only be the intense heat of Happy’s furnace.

  “You want to go back to Happy and her furnace?” I ask Aingeal while sending it images of what I mean. It sends me a sense of agreement, its ability to understand me significantly better than it used to be even if its communications are still fairly confusing. I look up at Happy. She looks expectant but not against the idea. “Alright, fine. Go and enjoy the fire.”

  Aingeal reacts with a happy feeling and then zooms over to bob near Happy’s spikes again. Surprisingly, Happy feels content to have it there again.

  The little ball of fire has grown on me, she explains when seeing my questioning look. I took it with me when I fled the village. Good thing too – the invaders broke my forge as well as killing my friend, she continues bitterly, glaring at the members of the invading force closest to us. She hasn’t forgotten what happened.

  I know Flower is waiting for me to tell her what I need her help with, but I haven’t spoken properly with Happy since returning – there’s always been something else that needed doing. And it hurts me to feel her pain, even greater than my own grief – she was always closer to the slain Fire-Shaper than I was.

  I reach forward and put my hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” I tell her seriously. “And I’m really sorry that Flicks died.”

  Happy looks down.

  So am I, she murmurs, her grunts and clicks barely audible. And I wish I didn’t have to see the faces of the Warriors who killed her living in my village.

  I feel a sudden surge of guilt. When I made the decision to get the invading samurans to make up for their attack by working for the village, I didn’t really consider how it might make others feel. And while most of the Pathwalkers seem to have got over it astonishingly quickly, I can’t act like everyone has.

  “Do you want me to send them away?” I ask, not sure what I’ll do if she answers in the affirmative. Maybe try to find a compromise where the invaders have to live in a separate compound and aren’t sent anywhere where they might encounter those they hurt. It would be difficult but possible.

  It’s a long moment before she answers, but when she does, it wasn’t what I was expecting.

  No, it is good that they must rebuild what they damaged. It is the best reprisal for their actions to be required to rebuild our village bigger and better than ever before, strengthening those they sought to destroy. Forced to work hard for any respect. In fact, she continues thoughtfully, I would like Ice-shaper to be assigned to me. There are some experiments I would like to run with metal and cold that I find difficult to do since I cannot control temperature. If she has to be here after she killed Fire-shaper, she might as well make herself useful.

  Her tone is vindictive and for a moment, I’m knocked off-balance by receiving the answer to a question I didn’t want to ask. I breathe in and out deeply, trying to recentre myself after my own pang of grief and its echo of anger pulses through me. I sympathise with Happy, perhaps too much. Something tells me that she and I are not so different. As such, I decide to give her the benefit of the doubt – with a warning.

  “Sure,” I agree. “I’ll tell her tomorrow. But Happy?” She looks at me steadily. “Don’t let your anger make you become bitter inside. Be true to yourself, even when faced with someone you have every reason to hate.”

  I know what grief can do, how it can cause someone to retreat inside themselves and sabotage their own lives. My dad did it, and so did I. Happy has been an excellent mentor to so many samurans – Flicks was just the only one who became a Pathwalker. I don’t want her to lose that quality just because she’s allowing her grief to rule over how she treats Ice-shaper. But because I trust her, I won’t intervene unless the situation gets bad. I do decide to keep an eye on it, though.

  Perhaps she receives some of that message through the Bond as she lifts her chin slowly and then lowers it.

  As you say, Tamer. And I know from that that she’s speaking to her leader, not to her friend. I know that she’s heard me – that will have to be enough. Now, what did you need my help with?

  “I was hoping that you and I could work together to create a lightning rod which will prevent this magnificent creation of Flower’s from being damaged in the first few hours of its existence,” I tell her, happy to change the subject.

  The grief slowly eases away from her expression as she looks up at the towering tree with its thick canopy protecting us all from the rain that is now sheeting down outside the central area.

  A challenge, she admits. I do not have enough metal on hand to do such a thing by myself.

  “Then let’s see what we can do together,” I urge her, figuratively rolling up my sleeves.

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