Cyrus Pov
After finding lodging for the night, my father and I decided it would be best to help the guards. Doing so would grant us access to leave the grove—or at least allow us to pretend to help until we found a way to escape discreetly. But before we met with the other parties and volunteers, my father wanted to pick up supplies. He said this was the perfect place to find a relic or artifact to help us store things more efficiently. With the limited supplies we had left, it was becoming increasingly difficult to carry all the astral behemoth cores in the bag slung over our shoulders. During our last skirmish against the pack of starspawn, it had been a hassle to drop our bags and belongings before engaging in battle.
As we entered the merchant area once again, the people of the grove seemed restless, their anxiety manifesting in the erratic behaviors of caged animals. While we browsed an artificer's shop in search of specific supplies, I tried to implement what my father had told me about eavesdropping. I pretended to inspect the various trinkets and wares while focusing on the conversations around me, hoping to pick up any new information regarding the disturbances.
It took a few tries of positioning myself in different areas of the shop before I finally overheard something that caught my interest. One of the customers had brought up the Hollow Branch cult. At that, my body moved instinctively, inching closer to the conversation.
"Apparently, there's been a resurgence in their numbers," one of the women muttered as she examined a potion-filled vial.
"Yeah, I heard they've been gathering in the northern ruins—the ones left from the last civil war," her taller friend replied, placing an item back down on the counter.
"I just hope it's taken care of quickly. That damn cult is nothing but trouble. Just when you think the weed has been uprooted, they find a way to sink their roots into this place again."
"I don't understand why Lady Myra and the rest of her clan didn't just get rid of Malakar's old texts. If they had, the philosophy would've died out on its own by now," the first woman grumbled.
"You haven't heard?" the shorter brunette asked, turning to her friend. "They did—but somehow, the texts keep resurfacing. It's like they're rising from the earth itself." She sighed and shifted her attention to a hanging shawl. "At least, that's what my husband said the last time he spoke to one of the guards."
Hearing their conversation made me even more curious. What exactly was going on in the outskirts? What kind of internal turmoil was brewing within the Celestial Grove? Our goal was to sneak out, but part of me wanted to understand the cause of all this unrest.
I continued listening, hoping to glean more useful information, but the discussion soon devolved into petty gossip. It reminded me of the conversations I used to overhear when my mother's friends visited our home. Losing interest, I stopped pretending to browse and made my way toward my father, who was finishing up his purchases.
"Did you hear anything worthwhile this time, Cy?" he asked as we stepped out of the shop.
"Yeah. I overheard some women talking about the Hollow Branch again and some guy named Malakar. Do you know anything about him?"
My father's expression darkened slightly. "From what I know, he's a figure from ancient times—a myth, at least among the Syltharion clan. Supposedly, there was a cataclysmic event that nearly severed the Eldertree from the cosmos, causing what they call the Sundering of the Verdant Star. During that time, the clan was divided on how to move forward, and from that division, a faction known as the Hollow Branch emerged, led by a man called Malakar the Withered. According to legend, he believed that true balance required destruction as much as creation."
"So, he was the one who started the civil war?"
"Yeah, that's what I was taught. He was an immensely powerful starbound even thousands of years ago, and it's insane to think he still has this much influence over people to this day," my father replied as we approached the northern gates where the other parties and guards were gathered.
"Oh, here, Cyrus. This should help you," he said, stopping in his tracks to hand me a small, rectangular object.
"What is this?" I asked, unfamiliar with the item.
"It's a dimensional storage space. These are specifically made for carrying celestial cores. I've been searching for one of these for years, but none of the places in the Valador outskirts ever had them in stock."
"How does it work?"
"You just imbue it with your cosmic energy and bring a core near it—the container does the rest. When you want to retrieve something, do the same and visualize the item appearing before you. You can clip it to your sheath strap so you're not slowed down by carrying a bag full of cores. We'll need to move quickly when the time comes," my father explained with a slight chuckle.
As we neared the gathering of starbound near the gates, I noticed there weren't as many parties present as I expected. I wondered why. The situation couldn't be that bad, could it? If the creatures were anything like the ones we encountered earlier, they shouldn't be much of a threat—unless, of course, there was something more to it.
"Thank you all for lending your aid in this matter," a guard clad in chainmail and a deep emerald helmet addressed the group. His helmet covered most of his face, leaving only his eyes and mouth visible. "With your help, we should be able to resolve this situation quickly."
"So, what exactly is the situation?" one of the nearby starbound asked.
"We will inform you once we leave the plaza," the guard responded. "Lady Arya has commanded that details of the matter not be discussed within these walls."
The gathered starbound seemed compliant with the request, but when I glanced up at my father, I noticed his expression harden beneath his hood.
Gently tugging on his arm, I whispered, "Dad, is everything alright?"
"Not really," he muttered. "Arya is one of Lady Myra's daughters— who just happens to be the leader of the Syltharion clan."