The Great Core's Paradox

As [Verdure Parasite] continued to accelerate the growth of plant-flesh around me, I cast a careful eye towards the burgeoning tower-nest of Coreless. Unlike the other Coreless tower-nests in the area, this one was not built of stone or ragged lengths of darkwood.

Instead, it was forming in an unlikely place - the body of an offspring of the Darkwood Guardian. It had only taken me a few moments to realize what exactly the Coreless were trying to do, even if they were doing a poor job of it so far. Already, I could tell that carving a proper tower-nest out of it would take them a long time, with the speed they were working at. It had been many hours, and they’d done little more than carve out the space where a moving-wall might eventually go.

“...watch it! Cut too deep, and the whole tree will wither and die!” one of the Coreless shouted, a mixture of [caution] and [scorn] conveyed by his [Little Guardian’s Totem]. The object of his [scorn], a large male with a sharpened bit of ore-flesh raised up high, turned to scowl back.

“Nobody likes a busybody, Tal.” With that said - whatever it was that he’d said - the ore-flesh-wielding male turned back towards the tree, preparing to swing yet again.

Just as his arm began to fall down, the first Coreless responded. “Well, nobody likes a reckless idiot, either. Or do you want to be the one to explain to the Little Guardian that you killed his biggest tree and now we’ll need another one?”

The arm paused mid-swing, stopping short with enough force that I could make out bulging muscles beneath the male’s flesh. “...fair. Still needs to be done, though.” And then, with just a little bit more [caution], the Coreless swung the ore-flesh again. A chunk of darkwood split beneath it, and the other Coreless groaned.

I wasn’t sure why he was so [worried]. The Darkwood Guardian had been impressively hardy, able to survive and flourish despite much of its lower section being altered to form the nest of a Lesser Core. Its offspring were likely no different.

Deciding to help the Coreless along, I sent a mental command to the many, many spore-roots that intertwined themselves with the massive darkwood’s plant-flesh; all at once, they twisted and writhed, sending giant fissures splintering up from the smaller cracks that the Coreless had already created.

The air roared with the sound of shattering plant-flesh.

“I told you, you idiot! Now look what you’ve done!” the Coreless shouted, [fear] sending him shuffling backwards, away from the source of the noise. The other Coreless, the one bearing sharpened ore-flesh, stared blankly at the shuddering darkwood, too [terrified] to move.

“I-I-I didn…” he began to stutter in fits and starts, the sounds as incomprehensible as ever. I ignored it, one half of my mind continuing to direct [Verdure Parasite], while the other ensured that the spore-roots within the darkwood offspring shattered its plant-flesh in just the right way.

And then, when I was finally sure that it was done, I commanded the ones that I needed to tear themselves apart.

All at once, splintered sections of darkwood shredded themselves into a fine dust, forming a massive brown-green mist that spread into the air and set the surrounding Coreless to loud and hacking coughs as it entered their lungs. By the time they recovered, the healing power of the [Little Guardian’s Focus]es having wiped away the damage, the offspring of the darkwood had been transformed.

As the Coreless boggled at the sight, I slithered towards the newly created plant-nest, looking to inspect my work.

A giant opening, large enough for two Coreless moving side-by-side, split the center of the plant-flesh - though the walls of the opening were quite a bit thicker than openings Coreless normally preferred. The edges of the plant-nest were still a living thing, and making them too thin might cause it to eventually shatter or die.

That would be no good. Though I had transformed its insides into a nest for the Coreless, it was still something meant to serve the Great Core in battle against any bad-things; it needed to remain strong, despite the emptiness carved into its insides.

Satisfied with what I saw, I slithered closer, scale-flesh brushing against a jagged scar set across the surface of the darkwood. Pausing, I reached out with [Verdure Parasite], temporarily suspending my efforts to create new seeds of plant-flesh. Instead, I gave the area around the scar - and any others that I happened to find - a brief moment of accelerated growth, allowing any damage or imperfections from the change I’d forced it through to become little more than old wounds healed over before moving on again.

The inside of the newly formed plant-nest was thick with the scent-taste of freshly exposed plant-flesh and darkwood sap, the latter forming pools on the ground thick enough for me to drown in. The Coreless would need to clean those up later. It might even make them feel like they had contributed to the creation of their new plant-nest, making it feel more like home. I remembered the peace and belonging that cleaning and maintaining the Great Core’s lair had once given me, back when I was small and weak; maybe doing this would give them something resembling the same.

That, however, was not for me. I gave the pools of sap a wide berth, slithering carefully around the dangerously sticky substance.

It wouldn’t do to get trapped inside while the Coreless were watching.

They followed behind me, the sounds of combined footfalls and muttering growing louder as new Coreless joined the old, drawn by the commotion. Yet, despite the growing crowd, none were willing to pass me by; even the newest of the Coreless, those who had only recently arrived from other nearby tower-nests, were too filled with [awe] and [reverence] to dare.

I hissed my approval, slithering farther inside and inspecting my work - something that was only possible due to [Ambusher’s Vision]. It was very dark, lit only by the faint blue-gold bioluminescence of [Spore Puppeteer]’s spore-roots and what little light managed to sneak its way in from outside. The Coreless likely could barely see anything at all, the [awe] and [reverence] flooding through their [Little Guardian’s Totem]s having more to do with the display of power involved in carving out the inside of the darkwood than the actual result.

I, however, could see just fine.

Just as I had planned it, the plant-nest was designed to resemble the tower-nests that the Coreless called home. While I didn’t understand some of the decisions that they made, particularly their insistence on useless moving-walls, I wasn’t about to waste time correcting them on it. So, to my shame, I had even left gaps that allowed for the placement of moving-walls throughout the plant-nest, though I hadn’t gone so far as to actually make the useless things myself.

That shame would have been too great.

Like the tower-nests that I had witnessed before, the plant-nest was separated into sections that climbed the inside of the darkwood, each one about two not-Needles high. Far higher than I would have preferred, but a necessary height for the Coreless. Especially because not-Needle wasn’t a particularly large example of one; some of the largest Coreless all but towered over her.

The bottom section, where the entrance to the plant-nest had been cut, was left relatively bare, empty of the many small rooms that the Coreless split their nests into. Instead, there were only a few small pillars to provide support for the sections above, each one carved into the likeness of a snake coiling itself towards the ceiling. At the center was the largest pillar of them all, massive enough to block my view of much of the area behind it; carvings on the Great Core adorned its side, set deep enough into the plant-flesh to remain protected. A massive snake, large enough to form a path for the Coreless to walk on, coiled its way upwards to the higher sections.

As the Coreless shuffled closer, tentatively stepping into the darkness behind me, I decided to solve the light issue myself. Unfortunately, the new plant-nest was vulnerable to fire, which meant that the Coreless would struggle to keep the area lit enough to see. Luckily, the same ability that had let me grow the plant-nest in the first place gave me an easy answer to that.

A quick flare of [Illusion Spark] sent a few of the Coreless behind me running. It only took a few moments for them to return, out of breath and panting. Then, with a brief pull at [Verdure Parasite], pinpricks of light began to grow from their hands. The Coreless quickly got the idea, rushing over to the inner walls of the plant-nest and placing the growing glow-caps upon its surface, where their roots began to intertwine with the existing plant-flesh and spore-roots to lock the newly grown light sources in place.

Stolen story; please report.

A brief spat over the placement of the glow-caps ensued, for reasons that I could not understand or really cared about - “What are you doing? They need to be evenly spaced!” - but, eventually, the entirety of the plant-nest’s lower section was illuminated.

And then the next section, and the one after that, until the plant-nest was completely filled with light - and, [surprised] and filled with [wonder], the Coreless found themselves with the first of their new homes.

Ewan leaned back against the wall behind him, watching. A large group had formed at the doors to the council chambers of his home tower, seeking answers for the rumors that had begun to spread, and it seemed that only the presence of a duo of shining guardsmen kept them from storming the gates.

“We want the truth!” someone shouted. A chorus of voices followed behind it, each echoing the sentiment in some way or another. Then, just when they started to quiet again, Corinne’s voice could be heard from somewhere within the crowd, and that was enough to set them off again.

“Well, it’s nice to see they care, I s’pose,” Kel muttered from beside him, watching just as carefully, arms crossed to reveal a set of surprisingly scarred forearms. He looked a little surprised at the new development; the man was a born pessimist.

Ewan scoffed. “Of course they’d care,” he said. “I care, don’t I?”

Kel gave a reluctant nod at that. “Fair enough,” he admitted. “But it’s one thing to care, and another to actually do something about it, ‘specially when it’s easier to pretend it’s not actually your problem.”

Ewan looked around, and had to admit to himself that the old man was right. The council chambers, as the beating heart of the White Towers’ political administration, was situated in a place of high foot traffic - or, at least, high visibility. By the decision of some architect long-past, it had been decided that the entrance to the council chambers should soar above the majority of its citizens; a series of four flying bridges stretched out from the outside edges of the tower, forming a small plaza - relatively speaking, though it was still rather large by the standards of most of Erandur - where they intersected. Over the years, that plaza had been co-opted for more than just the council chambers, becoming an envied location for merchants and those who simply craved the idea of being near a place of political power.

And yet, despite the area’s popularity, the crowd of protestors wasn’t growing any further - most of the onlookers just glanced in their direction before going back to their lives, more focused on buying trinkets from the nearby shops than they were in the injustice being protested. Only a rare few hesitated for a moment, twitching ever-so-slightly towards the crowd before returning to their lives.

Because it wasn’t their problem.

Before Ewan could think any further on that, the shouting of the crowd was interrupted by the sound of creaking wood and heavy boots. Another set of guardsmen, these ones having been posted inside of the chambers themselves, shoved the large doors of the council chambers open. A set of men walked out, each draped in the overly ornate garb of White Tower officials. At their center stood Councilor Varek, the chief speaker of the Council, looking entirely unruffled by the tumultuous crowd. He waved a hand and, in unison, the guardsmen shoved the butts of their spears against the ground, calling for silence.

“Citizens of the White Towers,” Varek said, voice carrying well beyond the crowd and catching the attention of a portion of the formerly disinterested passersby . “Allow me to assure you that we are aware of the concerns that have arisen regarding the situation in our neighboring tower. Let me assure you that the council approaches these matters with the utmost seriousness.”

A murmur ran through those gathered before him, but it was quickly quelled by another crash of the guards’ spears against the ground.

Varek cleared his throat, beginning anew. “We have indeed received reports of a fellow tower’s destruction,” he continued, “and we have sent our own investigators to confirm the extent of the damage, as well as to discover the source of their downfall. Rest assured that any perpetrators will be found and dealt with. As for these…rumors of our own people’s involvement, of capture and forced labor within our mines, I must emphasize that these claims are completely unfounded. As always, any of those currently interred in the mines have been properly judged and sentenced for their various crimes. But ever have others been envious of our home’s preeminence, and bad actors and criminal elements have chosen to take advantage of this most recent tragedy in an attempt to harm the unity of our people.”

Kel scoffed, turning to spit at the ground in disgust. Revolting, but not altogether unwarranted.

“S’pose that’s what they’ve decided the play is,” the elderly man grumbled. “Confirm what can’t be denied, and lie about everything else.”

Ewan flinched. It was more than a little concerning a strategy. Horrifying, even. Because he was sure that, in the minds of the council, the only way it could ever succeed would be if none of the mines’ captives ever made it out alive.

And clearly, Ewan wasn’t the only one to come to that conclusion.

The crowd dispersed following the council’s immediate departure afterwards, but not all of it. Enough remained to work with.

“Come on,” Ewan said, shoving himself away from the wall. “Time to give them another push.”

Elara felt oddly naked without her armor.

That, in and of itself, was an odd thought to have. She hadn’t owned it for long - and, even more, part of her hated the armor for what it represented. Betrayal. Bloodshed. A beautiful city’s fall, and an abominable amount of time spent with no control over her own body, puppet-slave to an incomprehensibly powerful and uncaring Core.

And yet, she felt naked - because, above all else, the armor was useful. With it, there was very little that Elara truly felt threatened by. Not without other forms of mana in play. Mana that, at that very moment, certainly didn’t exist. But there was one other thing that her armor could be useful for. Something that, surprisingly enough, didn’t even require its rather impressive enchantments.

Namely, it could be used to cover her face.

People tended to stare.

They did that when she was wearing the armor, too, but it was for a different reason. One that didn’t feel like it was really related to Elara at all. Inside of her armor, it was like they were staring at something that wasn’t her, more an unstoppable force of nature than the person that she was.

Outside of it, they only saw her.

…maybe I’m getting too used to hiding behind the armor, she decided after a moment of thought.

People stared as she walked through the burgeoning encampment, tracking her passage from behind the multicolored leaves that formed the grove in which the settlement had taken root. Some of them watched with wide, hopeful eyes. Elara was okay with that; she understood the need for hope more than most.

Others watched with something closer to reverence. Elara was less happy with that one. When she was in her armor, she could tell herself that the reverence came from a respect for the danger it represented; of wariness for the power that the mana-enhanced metal could manifest. When she was out of it, though…

It couldn’t be about anything but her - or, at least, the change that she represented.

Elara shook her head, telling herself to ignore the stares. It wasn’t as if the others didn’t receive the same uncomfortable treatment. Of the entire group, only the Little Guardian himself seemed to really enjoy that sort of thing, the tiny snake all but preening every time he caught another person watching, twisting about as if to ensure that his glossy black scales perfectly caught the light.

…something that she noticed he was doing even now, resting beside one of the massive trees that he sometimes grew and taking a small break from his constant efforts in forcing new seeds to sprout in order to receive a few hesitant scratches on his scales.

…more than a few, actually. It wasn’t strange to see people standing around the tiny, powerful snake. But this was a downright crowd. Normally, as much as the newcomers were awed by the things they were told and witnessed, they weren’t so eager to actually approach. A healthy respect for the danger of monsters was something ingrained into every human’s psyche, and it was hard to break through that without a push.

Elara walked closer to investigate. It didn’t take long for her to pick up on excited chattering, even with her previous enhancements to her hearing long reduced to normal, less overbearing levels.

It quickly became clear what had them so excited, and Elara turned to the side, finally noticing something that, in hindsight, should have been obvious. There were people inside of the massive darkwood tree. Its insides were carved out. Somehow. Something like that should have been the effort of many weeks at a minimum, even with the concerted effort of every new person in the growing encampment. Instead, it seemed to have happened in a blink.

It had definitely not looked like that last time she had walked by.

Elara stepped inside, and was greeted with yet another impossibility. And then, as she found the snake-themed stairs that coiled around the tree’s central column, she found herself encountering more and more of the same. Mushroom lights strewn across the bark of the walls, providing more illumination than anyone could ask for. Ornate carvings, filled with scenes of humans and snakes and Cores, both carved into the walls in bas-relief and formed into sculpted versions of supporting columns. Rooms large enough to host formerly homeless families, many already in the process of being gleefully claimed.

And it just kept going, the gargantuan tree transformed in its entirety into a home. One that, Elara realized, was likely only a little less powerful a defender against intruders than before. Its bark was still lined with the tell-tale blue and gold markings that signified the Little Guardian’s protection, same as it had been before. Its branches remained sharp and deadly, filled with thorns that never seemed to prick those who bore a [Little Guardian’s Totem] around their neck. Its size remained intimidating, soaring as high as the very towers that the people of Erandur called home.

Elara realized that nobody was staring at her anymore, even without her armor.

They were too busy witnessing a miracle.