Zolgrich leaned back slightly. "Every soul has five trees."
The silence that followed was complete.
Even Kaelred didn't speak.
The lich continued, slow and asured.
"Not all find them. Fewer still understand what they are. But they call, even if the call is never heard. When you follow them, when you prove yourself… they reveal what has always been inside you. Not magic. Not strength. But identity."
Argolaith felt it in his chest—the pulsing echo of the second tree's lifeblood, stored within his ring, dormant but watching.
Zolgrich's gaze never left him. "You have followed two. That is rare. Dangerous. But not unprecedented."
Then Zolgrich's voice shifted, deepening, and the room seed to grow heavier.
"But the trees were not always what they are now. In the beginning, they were roots of potential. Empty vessels. Until… the gods intervened."
The chamber darkened. The green flas in Zolgrich's eyes flared slightly.
"The gods saw the chaos of the world of Morgoth, saw that mortals—especially humans—drifted aimless through history, dying with unshaped souls. And so, they gave the trees a gift."
A drop of glowing red energy ford in the air.
"A drop of their own blood. Not from war. Not from wrath. But from sacrifice. A willing act to bind fate into form."
He let the drop hover for a mont longer. Then it vanished.
"The trees drank it. And through it, they beca what they are now—gateways. Sentinels of choice. Catalysts for change."
Kaelred's voice was hushed. "So they… were made divine?"
Zolgrich's head turned slightly. "No. They were made aningful."
Kaelred, who had been silent for far too long, suddenly blurted, "Wait, wait—then why is it that only humans can use the lifeblood?"
Malakar blinked once. Even Argolaith turned slightly, surprised at the bluntness of the question.
Zolgrich didn't hesitate. "Because humans are the only race not born with magic."
The words landed like a spell.
"Elves, dwarves, fae, and others—they are born of magic. It runs in their blood from the first breath. They are shaped by it, bound to it."
Zolgrich's voice lowered. "But humans are blank. A canvas without paint. They possess only potential. And it is that potential the lifeblood awakens."
Kaelred looked down for a mont. "So… we get it because we start with nothing."
Zolgrich nodded slowly. "And so you have the most to gain. Or the most to lose."
A longer silence settled.
Then Kaelred tilted his head again, his voice curious but careful. "So… what were you before you beca this?"
Zolgrich didn't move.
But when he spoke, his voice held sothing rare—mory.
"I was an elf."
Kaelred's brow furrowed. "Seriously?"
Zolgrich nodded once. "Yes. A scholar. One who knew the limits of his own kind. I could touch magic, but I could never shape it freely. I could never reshape fate."
He raised a skeletal hand, the runes along his fingers glowing faintly.
"So I changed that."
Malakar, who had remained quiet throughout the tale, spoke softly. "And you succeeded."
Zolgrich's fla-eyes turned toward him. "And beca what I am now."
The weight of Zolgrich's words still hung in the air—truths wrapped in myth, stories older than any civilization, secrets hidden beneath roots and blood.
The flickering green fire in Zolgrich's eyes dimd slightly as he studied Argolaith in silence.
Then, he spoke again—slowly, deliberately, each word sharpened like the edge of a scalpel.
"You wish to awaken what slumbers within you. To unlock the gift that the trees guard. Then you must understand this… there is only one way to do it."
The chamber darkened, just slightly, as if the stone itself leaned forward to listen.
Zolgrich raised one hand. A spiral of erald light ford above his palm, then split into five pulsing drops—each the color of living jade, glowing faintly in the still air.
"The lifeblood is not a reward. It is a key. And only when all five keys are gathered—one from each of your trees—can the gate be opened."
The five drops slowly rged into a single orb of light.
Zolgrich's gaze sharpened. "But the gate will not open on its own. It requires a price. Your own blood must join with the five."
Argolaith felt the pulse of the second tree's lifeblood stir in his storage ring—as if responding to the mory of others like it.
"Five drops," Zolgrich continued. "One from each tree that calls to you. Once you have them all, you must mix them with your own essence. Not just a prick of the finger or a scratch on the skin. It must be blood taken from the heart."
Kaelred winced. "Of course it does."
Zolgrich stood from his throne—slowly, silently, the throne folding back into the ice behind him as if it had rely been a part of him all along.
He stepped forward, his robes dragging across the stone like whispers.
"You are not the first. Countless before you have walked the path. So succeeded. Most… did not."
He waved a hand, and the room changed. Along the walls, visions flickered—n and won from every era, from long-forgotten ages to re centuries past.
Warriors, wanderers, kings, beggars. All of them standing before trees carved from light. All of them with the sa look in their eyes: hope.
"Those who found all five awakened sothing beautiful. Terrible. Unimaginable. Their magic beca their own—raw, personal, shaped not by study but by spirit."
Kaelred whispered, "What happened to them?"
Zolgrich's tone turned grave. "So beca saints. Others monsters. Most simply vanished—taken by the power they were not prepared to carry."
Zolgrich lifted one long, skeletal finger. "But the ritual is precise. One mistake, one misstep… and it will not simply fail. It will warp."
He clenched his fist—and the green light flared, then fractured.
From its center, a shrieking figure ford—its body twisted, its limbs curled unnaturally inward. Its face was not human. Not anymore.
Kaelred stumbled back a step. "What—what is that?"
"Soone who tried… and failed," Zolgrich said calmly. "They misasured. Mixed the blood improperly. Let fear cloud the binding mont. And so their spirit unraveled. Their magic turned inward. Now, they exist as a whisper. A curse. A thing that should not be."
The vision vanished.
Zolgrich's voice lowered. "You must be certain. When the ti cos, you will only get one chance."
Argolaith said nothing. He didn't need to.
He understood.
"The gods gave the lifeblood to humans," Zolgrich continued. "Not because they were strong. But because they were empty. A blank slate. The other races… they are born with magic, shaped by it before they draw their first breath. But humans…"
He turned, his glowing eyes fixed on Argolaith.
"You were born with nothing. And so you may beco anything."
Malakar nodded faintly. "Magic born from will. Not bloodlines."
Zolgrich turned to him, and for a mont, there was the faintest flicker of recognition between them. Old knowledge. Old regrets.
Kaelred let out a breath. "So, to be clear—this thing I thought was just creepy tree sap is actually divine, soul-binding blood magic that has to be perfectly combined with a near-fatal heart wound?"
Zolgrich turned to him without changing expression. "Correct."
Kaelred muttered, "…Cool. Totally normal."
Zolgrich returned to the center of the chamber, the flas in his eyes burning low.
He extended a single hand. "I can show you the ritual when the ti cos. The proper runes. The timing. The invocation. But I cannot stop you from failure. I will not intervene."
Argolaith stepped forward. "I wouldn't ask you to."
Zolgrich regarded him in silence, then finally gave a slow nod.
"Then your path is clear. The second tree has been claid. Three remain."
He turned, and the shadows in the room deepened.
"Find them. Gather the blood. And be ready."
He paused before the throne reford behind him.
"Because the magic waiting inside you does not sleep. It watches. And when it awakens…"
He looked directly at Argolaith.
"It will either make you into what this world needs—or tear you apart before it ever sees what you could beco."
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