Days passed as Diven alternated between the fantasy he was living under the effects of Echoes of the Heart and the harsh reality of the rift. Although his injuries had mostly healed after just two days, he kept channeling the skill.
He had few memories of the events he experienced under the skill’s influence. All he retained were impressions and a deep longing for more.
He could have gone out to explore the rift, but it wasn’t like he needed to. The branch linked to his Facet of the Exile should have been steadily growing. After all, he was exiled and he was constantly using the skill linked to this facet.
The only issue was that he wouldn’t be able to unlock a new facet before his next selection if he continued like this. Since Bird would be the one to choose, the risk of her picking Facet of the Rot mage was there.
But he had time. With no danger to hasten it, the facet would still take a long time to fully develop.
He had food, he had water. There was no reason not to indulge in his memories.
After everything he had endured, he needed it.
On the seventh day, he was out of rations. This wasn’t a problem. The guardians had promised to keep him fed through his time in the rift. The food wasn’t close to amazing, but it was free.
Standing up from his usual resting spot, Diven circled around the stone to find his handlers. They always hung out in the same spot.
Convenient.
Yet, when he poked his head around the large stone, he didn’t see them. Diven walked closer, but there was no sign of the guardians.
They weren't there.
He didn’t see them, he didn’t hear them, he didn’t smell them. He didn’t even see a trace of their presence here. Not a single footprint besides his own. The spot near the stone where he had always seen them standing was pristine. As if the snow was fresh, never trampled.
The thing was, it hadn’t snowed since Diven entered the rift.
Something was up. Where had they gone?
His stomach grumbled. He was hungry.
Should he wait for them to come back? Surely, they wouldn’t leave for too long. Something must have come up, forcing them to leave temporarily. Likely, they were busy doing some rift guardians’ tasks.
What did Rift Guardians do? Diven still didn’t know. But they had to do things from time to time, it would be weird if they only stood around the stone.
he couldn’t expect them to always be available for him.
While he understood the need for the guardians to step away from the stone, it didn’t resolve his hunger.
He could wait. But since he didn’t know when they would be back, it may be in vain. With the mist gone, he should be able to fend for himself. After all, he had survived alone in the Wildlands, he just needed to find a river. Or he could try hunting a frostcrawler spearfish, as the guardians had called it. Those beasts were strong but with Echoes of the Heart to heal him, he would be fine.
He made up his mind. He gathered his few belongings: his spear, his shield, his gourd, and that was it.
Before leaving, he decided to do a quick check of his inner world. He hadn’t checked it since first using Echoes of the Heart, and he was curious to see how far he had progressed. He hoped it wasn’t too much. He needed the time to unlock some new options.
That was his plan. First, get some food. Second, quickly unlock a facet option Bird would choose. Third, get back into Echoes of the Heart. He had no interest in visiting the rift more than he needed.
He looked at the branch from his Facet of the Exile.
It hadn’t grown at all.
Hmmm..
Pardon?
Excuse me?
What’s the meaning of this?
To be fair, it had grown the tiniest bit since last time. A centimeter, no more. It was nothing when a fully grown branch was several meters long. Each facet was different, so he wasn’t sure exactly what length the branch was supposed to reach but he knew it wasn’t growing as it should.
Why?
He was as exiled as one could be.
Everyone in Kheiron had turned their backs on him. He even had a title to show for it: Rotten Sun. He still didn’t know what effects this title had on him, but it was proof of his banishment.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Sure, Sebastian had stood by his side, and his parents were technically missing, though that hardly helped. But, as much as he would like for it to be otherwise, they didn’t have the power to overturn his exile.
Maybe Uncle Basil had returned to the city and persuaded the elders to lift his exile.
Unlikely. If his uncle had wanted to, he would have tried before making the months-long trip up the Lien River. Furthermore, even if this was the case, it didn’t change his situation. As far as his material conditions were concerned, he remained exiled, stranded in the rift.
He was walking toward the valley where he fought the spearfish, hoping he could find another one to hunt in the vicinity. But his heart wasn’t in it.
Why didn’t his facet progress? It made no sense. He had wasted a week doing nothing. Well, not completely wasted. Using Echoes of the Heart was pleasant. A much-needed break from reality.
Even if it wasn't real,being back home in Kheiron, basking in the glory he could have had if not for his terrible bloodline… It was nice.
Could it be related to his lack of progress?
After all, since all he did in the last few days was practice Echoes of the Heart, it stood to reason the skill was interfering with his facet’s progress. But the skill itself had been granted by Facet of the Exile, so it didn’t make much sense.
Yet, the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced there was some logic to his hypothesis.
Facet of the Exile.
Exile.
As the core concept of the facet, it stood to reason it was its main progress path. The skill he received when picking the facet even reflected that. Soothing his mind from the hardships of exile by bringing it back home.
It may not be real, but his mind didn’t feel exiled when he used Echoes of the Heart. If he didn’t feel exiled, could his facet grow?
No. It couldn’t.
A shiver ran through his back. He needed to be more careful in the future. He wasn't content losing himself in an illusion. As nice as it was, it couldn't replace reality. Especially considering he was now starving.
But he couldn’t help but be afraid that if he didn’t need to eat, he would have had a hard time stopping himself.
Now his stomach was keeping him in check, growling, urging him to hunt. But as soon as he was satiated, he would feel the urge to return to Echoes of the Heart.
He knew himself well enough to realize he would justify it with the need to heal the injuries he received while hunting. Even if they weren't much, he would argue with himself that since he didn’t know what dangers the rift could hold, he needed to be in peak condition.
Then, it would only be a matter of scrounging a few more moments.
“Just one more time and I’ll stop.” He’d tell himself, as he repeatedly indulged.
Diven sighed, he would have to fight it when it came. For now, he needed to find something to eat.
It only took a few minutes for Diven to reach the place where he had fought the spearfish a week prior. There were still signs of the fight, but the carcass was completely gone.
Scavengers must have cleaned it up.
He had a small apprehension his Rot Heart bloodline was responsible for the corpse's disappearance. He preferred to bury the idea and convince himself it couldn’t be the case in this cold weather.
In reality, it was more likely that other beasts had scavenged the body before he could. It had been a week…
With his head clear and his body well-rested, he could truly take in the new landscape. Far from the endless foggy snow plain he had been subjected to, the rift turned out to be made up of rugged terrain where tall peaks loomed above pine-clad valleys.
It was a lot nicer, and it seemed he would be able to find a beast to hunt more easily than before. Or rather, he hoped a beast would find him quickly. He still had no clue how to track an animal in the wild.
Diven did his best to appear as inoffensive and tasty as possible while he traveled through the valley.
Using himself as a lure, he elected to stay at a lower altitude. He figured most wildlife would favor the shelter of the pine groves scattered across the valley rather than the exposed snowy cliffs higher up.
Knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to sneak close to prey without being detected, he purposefully made a lot of noise. He stomped his feet on the ground and shouted random syllables to the wind.
He was not looking for prey.
He wanted to attract a predator.
It didn’t take long for him to hear the familiar rasping sound he knew to associate with a frostcrawler spearfish. Summoning his best acting performance, Diven pretended he didn’t know what it was and raised his spear and shield while looking all around him.
The monster circled, gaining momentum in preparation for its charge. Diven was ready, he knew what to expect.
Once the monster initiated his ambush, Trap Detection fired a warning and he moved out of the way using The Fifth Direction. It was as Feline said, he could simply trust this mysterious sensation, and the beast wouldn't be able to catch him. With just a few steps, he was too far from the spearfish’s path to be hit. Moments later, the beast stopped and Diven closed the distance with his spear.
He had grown a lot since the last fight, he was stronger and faster and his new skills offered him incredible utility. And since he was no longer confined by the mist, Diven wasn't fighting the same battle.
A single thrust of his spear penetrated the fish’s belly, followed by a slash ripping its entrails out of place. The spearfish was dead.
Standing over his kill, Diven couldn’t help but smile. For the first time, he had dominated a fight. It wasn’t close at all. For the first time, he felt his confidence in his skills rise.
The only downside was that he didn’t level a single skill. There was little challenge involved in the fight, so no opportunity to improve.
Still, Diven welcomed the change, he knew harder challenges awaited him later. For now, he would enjoy his triumph.
Now, how would he turn all this meat into food?
Fresh fish could often be eaten raw.
“But this isn’t really fish, is it?” He whispered.
Fish lived in water. One could make the argument that the snow was technically water, making the frostcrawler at least an honorary fish.
But Diven wasn’t about to risk his life on a technicality.
Unsure, and unwilling to take the risk of poisoning himself with raw meat, Diven decided to cook it. It wasn’t ideal—he wasn’t even sure if frostcrawler spearfish meat was edible—but he was hungry.
Diven gathered some dead wood from the closest pine grove and patted his torn clothes, looking for his lighter.
Of course, it wasn’t there. He used to have pockets, but they had been torn by the swarmlings.
His uncle had taught him how to light a fire without a lighter during their journey to his exile. But it was very difficult. He never succeeded.
It would have to be now.