A cool breeze snaked through the high arches of the ancient chamber, rustling the few loose scrolls Kael had brought. Ren sat on a low stone bench, the hum of the city’s unseen ley lines a distant thrum beneath his feet. He felt Kael’s gaze, a quiet pressure on his awareness. Awkward silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken truths. Ren’s mind replayed Kael’s words, the revelation of his lineage, the name ‘Prime Conduit’ hanging heavy in the air. How could he reconcile his quiet, meticulous life of tracing subtle earth currents with the grand, dangerous legacy Kael described? A legacy woven into the ancient feuds Kael’s own people had fought. Should he offer some apology for the blood that flowed through him? Blood he’d never understood, never chosen. Yet, that very blood had awakened the power Kael now saw. It felt disingenuous to claim the gift while disavowing its complicated past. Kael shifted on his makeshift pallet. His hand, still bandaged, clapped Ren’s shoulder with unexpected force. “Don’t look like the world’s ending, young Rootweaver. The battles of my grandfathers aren’t yours to fight.” Ren only nodded, a tight knot in his chest. He wanted to point out Kael looked far more world-weary than he did, but the words caught in his throat. “Past grievances fester, but the young shouldn’t be made to drink the poison. Blood washing blood only ensures the well runs dry for everyone.” Kael’s gaze drifted, shadowed by old memories, even as he spoke. “Do you regret it?” Ren’s voice was softer than he intended. Kael turned, a brow arched. “Regret what?” “Telling me. Guiding me to this path.” To fully grasp his power, Ren knew he’d have to confront the very legacy Kael spoke of. To embrace the title of a ‘Prime Conduit’ would, inevitably, align him with an ancient power. A power once at odds with Kael’s own Stone-Guard, the protectors of Veridian Prime’s balance. It was a risk for Kael, surely. To empower someone who might, one day, wield that power against his own. Kael, however, shook his head. “No. Your actions, Ren, spoke volumes. You welcomed a stranger. You showed concern for a man you’d barely met. If a spirit like yours rises within the deep currents of your heritage, perhaps the old conflicts can finally be mended.” Ren felt a flicker of disbelief. Kael saw too much, hoped for too much. Ren had simply been curious, starved for conversation, unwilling to see someone die. His motives felt far less grand, far more selfish. Eyes fixed on the ancient, worn stone floor, Ren considered his words. A quiet tremor ran through the ground, a distant shift of the city’s heart. Kael chuckled, pulling Ren from his thoughts. “Too serious, young Rootweaver. You haven’t pledged yourself to anything yet, have you?” “No, not yet.” He truly hadn’t. Exploring the world, understanding the great currents that flowed beneath Veridian Prime, felt far more compelling than joining any rigid faction. The whispers of his lineage carried a faint animosity, a sense of ancient burdens he wasn’t eager to shoulder. “I’ll stay until your wounds mend,” Ren offered. “Then I’ll think.” “Wounds?” Kael scoffed, flexing his bandaged arm. “Just a few scrapes, hardly worth mentioning!” His laughter, though a little strained, filled the chamber. --- Days turned into a week. While Kael recuperated, Ren sought to formalize his understanding of the geomancy he’d wielded by instinct. Kael, a seasoned Ley-Warden, was a patient, if pragmatic, teacher. “Ley force, the primordial energy that courses through Veridian Prime, is often called the ‘World’s Pulse’,” Kael began, tracing a diagram in the dust with a twig. “The World’s Pulse…” Ren murmured, sensing the truth of it in the deep thrum of the city. “But it’s not omnipotent. To manifest any significant change, it demands a proportionate resonance. You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The drain.” Ren nodded. “What governs that resonance?” That question had plagued him. Sometimes a small manipulation felt effortless, other times a minor tremor left him drained. Kael held up three fingers. “The difficulty of any geomantic feat is determined by three factors. First, your heritage. Second, your resonance. And third, the natural flow.” Heritage, resonance, natural flow. Ren committed the words to his memory. “Your heritage is simply the innate gifts of your lineage. For a Stone-Guard like me, it doesn’t directly manifest in overt power. For a Prime Conduit…” Kael paused, gesturing to Ren. “It dictates your ability to shape the deep current. For instance, you would find it difficult to mend my bones, wouldn’t you?” “Yes.” Ren tried to recall the times he’d tried to subtly influence the restorative currents within decaying flora, always with limited success. “The Verdant-Bred, those living in the Sunken Gardens, they can instinctively channel healing ley lines. They can regrow lost limbs, banish sickness. For someone of a different heritage, no matter the effort, such deep mending is almost impossible.” Thoughts of his mother, wasting away despite all his efforts to find a cure, flashed through Ren’s mind. He bit back the familiar pang of regret. Such thoughts served no purpose now. “And the second factor, resonance?” “It’s proficiency,” Kael explained. “The more familiar you are with a particular manipulation, the easier it becomes. A Rootweaver who often fortifies structures finds strengthening stone simple. One who habitually creates localized quakes will find them easier to manifest, more potent.” “My tendency to send tremors like throwing stones,” Ren suggested. “Precisely. If you had simply tried to manifest raw force, it wouldn’t have possessed that directed power.” Kael grinned. Ren’s previous encounters with ley-beasts had indeed taught him this. Kael’s smile faded, his brow furrowing. “The third, the natural flow, is the most crucial, and the most complex. Even I haven’t fully grasped its subtleties. To simplify, ‘natural’ events flow more easily.” Kael stroked his chin, searching for the right words. “What would happen if you focused ley force directly on me, willing my heart to stop?” Ren thought of the corrupted construct. “My intent would likely just ripple against you, causing nothing.” “Exactly. That’s a lack of natural flow. No proper cause, and the task itself is too direct. In your case, both factors apply.” “I think I understand the cause.” “Explain.” “To harm you, it wouldn’t be enough to just wish it. I’d need to provide a cause. To manifest a tremor beneath your feet, to shift the very ground. That’s more ‘natural’ than simply willing your death.” Ren had realized this during his confrontation with the reanimating construct. He couldn’t just ‘unmake’ it, but he could sever its ley lines, causing a structural collapse. Kael clapped his hands. “Brilliant. You could have been a Lore-Keeper. As you said, giving the energy a ‘natural’ path dramatically reduces the resonance required.” “But I could subdue the stray creatures beyond the city walls easily. Why did the corrupted constructs require such… anchoring?” “Creatures that house deep currents develop a resistance. The more primordial energy they possess, the stronger that resistance. But if you channel your power through an already manifesting effect – a physical tremor, a shifting wall – you bypass much of that resistance. The physical manifestation acts as a conduit itself.” Kael explained how Ren’s directed force had impacted the construct, while Kael’s more direct, unanchored spell had merely flickered. Directly assailing a Rootweaver with raw ley force was, Kael implied, nearly impossible. Ren pressed his temples. The weight of this new understanding settled heavily. “Geomancy isn’t simple,” he conceded. “A true Rootweaver doesn’t just wield raw power. They understand the principles, the subtle currents, how to read the city’s heart, and how to make the environment their accomplice.” Closing his eyes, Ren replayed Kael’s lessons. A detail surfaced he hadn’t considered. “My heritage… does it have specific geomantic gifts?” Kael had mentioned heightened senses, keen sight, but nothing overtly geomantic. Kael nodded. “Yes. Prime Conduits excel in Divining and Echoing. Have you ever used either?” “Divining, sometimes. To follow the whisper of old paths or track a lost artifact. Never Echoing.” Ren had used Divining to trace forgotten ley lines, guiding him through the labyrinthine lower levels of Veridian Prime. Concealment, however, had never been a necessity in his solitary work. “Try it then. Many geomancers can create minor illusions, a shimmer in the air, but the highest form of Echoing, a complete removal from perception, is unique to your lineage.” Ren focused. He pushed the thought outwards: *I don’t want to be seen. I don’t want to be heard. I don’t want my presence to ripple in the deep current.* The ley force within him surged, a torrent of primordial energy. He looked down. His hands, his form, seemed unchanged. “Did it work?” he whispered. Kael’s eyes were unfocused, staring blankly at the space Ren occupied. “It worked. I… I can’t perceive you. Are you still there?” Ren rose, moving silently through the chamber. He stomped lightly, snapped his fingers near Kael’s ear. Kael reacted to neither sound nor presence. Only when Ren severed the flow of ley force did Kael’s eyes snap into focus, his gaze sharp, then softening with a deep sigh. “That ability… it’s been generations since I’ve witnessed its true power. Terrifying. During the ancient conflicts, the Stone-Guard prayed for the sun, for any light. Too many dawns broke with barracks full of… silent forms.” Kael shivered, his hands rubbing his arms. “This… it feels unfair,” Ren said, a chill running down his spine. This power, far beyond any healing, felt monstrous. How could anyone fight a foe they couldn’t even sense? Kael shook his head. “It’s not invincible, Rootweaver. No power truly is.” ---

The Weight of the Deep Current