Chapter 87: The Giant Crow

“Little one, before you leave, I have a favor to ask,” Old White began slowly. “If you ever have the chance to travel to the region of Midgard, remember to make time for a visit to ‘Stone Pillar Town’ and pay a call on my brother for me—another Yggdrasil, rooted in the woods near that town.”

Joan nodded solemnly, clutching the branch as he asked, “Is there anything else? I recall you have two relatives in the world of Vales.”

“Yes, indeed,” Old White replied with a gentle sigh. “Besides my brother in Stone Pillar Town, I have a younger sister rooted somewhere in the region of Niflheim. Unfortunately, I do not know her exact location. If, by chance, you ever travel to Niflheim, please try to inquire after her whereabouts for me.”

Joan nodded again, though inwardly he felt troubled. Midgard lay to the north of Alfheim—a well-developed colony, whose capital, Midgard City, was the premier metropolis of the New World, the greatest center for commerce, trade, and industry along the eastern coast. If Joan succeeded in graduating from Leyden Academy and wished to continue his studies, the Arcane College of Midgard University would be his ideal choice. Thus, he would likely travel to Midgard in the future, and visiting Old White’s kin would be a convenient detour.

Niflheim, however, was another matter entirely. North of Midgard lay the Fey colony of Jotunheim—a cold northern land—and further still, within the Arctic Circle, was Niflheim, a desolate region shrouded in mist and snow year-round, also known as the “Land of Mists.” It was rumored to be the source of the River Styx, a realm of spirits and witches. All outsiders were considered enemies by the fiercely territorial witches of the Styx, who would ruthlessly slay intruders and transform them into undead, forcing them to wander helplessly through the foggy valleys, suffering endless torment. Unless absolutely necessary, Joan had no desire to set foot in such a terrifying place.

Old White pointed to the branch in Joan’s hand and cautioned, “Keep this ever-green branch safe as a token. Should you meet my kin one day, you may use it to win their trust—it will serve you well.”

“This branch has been infused with my magic. Carry it with you, and you will be able to sense the presence of sentient beings nearby and communicate with them telepathically. In addition, you may draw upon its magic in times of need to transform into a mighty treant.” Old White’s tone grew more serious as he added, “Remember, child, the magic within is limited; you can remain in treant form for no more than two minutes each day. After that, you’ll revert to your true self, and the branch will require a full day and night to recharge before you can transform again.”

“Thank you for your gift, Old White. I will remember your advice,” Joan replied, bowing deeply to the ancient tree, filled with gratitude. For a frail mage like himself, this magical branch would perfectly compensate for his lack of close-combat ability. He had witnessed firsthand the formidable power of treants; two minutes was brief, yet it would be enough to save his life in a critical moment.

Tucking the enchanted branch away, Joan bid farewell to Yggdrasil and left the woods to meet up with Conti, so they could find her parents together.

When Victor and Matoka heard from their daughter that Joan intended to return home that very day, they were reluctant to see him go but did not urge him to stay. Matoka insisted on giving Joan a heavy purse containing a full hundred gold coins, saying it was for his travel expenses. Victor, mindful of the long journey from Powhatan Village to Derlin Town—fraught with beasts and magical creatures—worried that going alone on foot would be too dangerous. He cast a spell to summon a giant raven, as large as a young horse, and instructed the bird to carry Joan safely to Derlin Town.

After bidding the family farewell, Joan steeled himself and climbed onto the great raven’s back. The bird was gentle, waiting until Joan was securely seated before spreading its wings and soaring into the sky.

As the wind rushed past his ears and the ground fell away beneath him, Joan’s heart raced. The giant raven rose to a height of a thousand feet, then leveled off and sped toward Derlin Town.

Gradually, Joan grew accustomed to flying on the raven’s back, and his nerves settled. Leaning to one side, he gazed down to see the buildings and streets of Powhatan Village reduced to a chessboard of tiny squares, the people below mere blurry dots. He could just make out Conti, still waving energetically at the sky. Clutching the raven’s neck feathers with his left hand, Joan freed his right to wave back—a final farewell to Conti’s family, though he doubted they could see him.

As he recalled the two weeks of adventure and wonder he’d experienced in Powhatan Village, Joan felt a pang of melancholy. It all seemed like a fleeting dream, now dissipated. He had no choice but to leave the village that had given him so many fond memories and return to his former life.

Only when the village faded completely from view, replaced by endless forests and winding, sparkling rivers, did Joan collect his thoughts. The raven flew swiftly; they would reach Derlin Town before sunset. With nothing to do during the flight, Joan quietly cast “Introspection,” entering a meditative state to review his vocation and attributes—summarizing the gains and growth from his journey.

…

Status: Right eye impaired
Level: Mage 1 / Mythic Archmage 1
Current Spell Slots: 0-level—unlimited; 1st-level—3 (Intelligence bonus +2)
Path Abilities (Mythic Archmage): Mythic Power 5/day, Wild Arcana, Mythic Spellcasting, Energy Substitution
Attributes: Strength 10, Dexterity 12, Constitution 9, Intelligence 22 (Fountain of Wisdom +5, Tears of the Divine +4), Perception 14, Charisma 16

…

From the Algonquin Valley, where Powhatan Village stood, to Joan’s hometown of Derlin Town, was a distance of over two hundred miles. On foot, the journey would take at least half a month; on horseback, four or five days. But with the giant raven, including stops for rest, the trip took only four hours. Before the sun had set, Joan could already see the little town nestled on the banks of the Derlin River. The great waterwheel thundered as the river drove it, sending up sprays of water that caught the last rays of the sun, forming a brilliant rainbow.

Joan patted the raven’s neck, signaling the intelligent magical beast to descend. Understanding, the raven nodded, folded its broad wings, and spiraled down, whipping up a gust that scattered the town’s cooking smoke and sent the sunbathing hounds at the gate scurrying for cover, their tails tucked, watching the descending black giant with a mix of fear and awe.