Mark of the Fool-Chapter 897: The Seeds of Renewal

“What…is it…that you want me to try…father?”

Alex looked over the land, taking in everything around him. “You see all this? I mean, do you see how devastated it is?”

Claygon followed his gaze. “Yes…of…course…”

The group looked over the landscape in silence.

All around were signs of destruction, of unmistakable war. The land had been ravaged by spawn.

It had been drenched in acid by titans.

Forests were burnt to ash, fire clouds having left their mark.

Once fertile soil was now poisoned, contaminants bubbling through it, decaying bodies covering it.

“It is…sad…” Claygon said. “The land…is hurt…it will…take a long time…for things to get better…even with magic…even with divinity…”

“Yes,” Theresa said. “Thameland will have deep scars for whoever knows how long. And how much farmland was destroyed? This...there’s going to be grim times ahead for a long time.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Alex said, looking at Claygon hopefully.

The General remembered the vision he’d had when he looked into the dungeon core in Greymoor and saw the culling of Thameland. In that horrific vision, the destruction had seemed endless.

All-encompassing. Yet, it hadn’t been.

Behind the armies of destroyers that culled all mortal life throughout the land, other creatures followed them, healing.

First, a thick mist had come, like fog hanging above the earth on a spring morning. The mist had cleansed everything it touched, evaporating acid, snuffing out fire, liquefying corpses into nothing more than dew.

When the mist had moved by, only the scars of the decimation had remained: signs of scorching from flame.

Other creatures, resembling massive earthworms—loam coloured and colossal in size—followed behind the mist, creeping along, bringing up the tail-end of the army. As they moved by, expelling fresh earth in their wake, their bodies wriggled through the soil, stirring it into the landscape. Before Alex’s eyes, saplings and sprouts had sprung from the earth, seeding the land with new life.

The young archwizard had told the others about his vision, and now he reminded them of what he’d seen.

“Claygon, do you think you could make those same spawn?” Alex asked. “Or any spawn for that matter, since the Ravener’s now dead?”

“Wait, what, make spawn’?” Theresa said. “What are you talking about?”

“I…evolved…as you can…see…” Claygon said.

“Yes, you certainly have.” Khalik patted the golem on the back. “Congratulations, by the way!”

“Thank…you…” the golem said. “But…yes…I…was able to make…spawn. Not as fast as the Ravener could…I needed to use…my own…power…and not…steal energy…from people’s…fear. But…I do not know…if I can make them anymore…after the Ravener…died…”

Claygon touched his chest.

“Let me…try…something…”

He focused, and Alex felt a massive wave of mana gathering in the golem’s chest.

“I…am…looking…through…myself…” the golem said. “I took…some of…the Ravener’s…processes and…powers…but I don’t…know how to use…all of them…not yet…so it might take me a bit…to…”

He paused.

“There!” he suddenly cried.

Mist came flowing from Claygon’s chest.

The others jumped back as vapour billowed from him, forming a tremendous mist cloud floating a few feet above the scorched earth.

“Is…this…it…father?”

“Yes!” Alex cried. “Yes, that was one of them!”

The golem nodded, then directed the mist. “Go…I would like you to…eliminate the dead bodies, the acid and poison, and the fire and ash…all around…here…”

The cloud hovered in stillness for a moment, then floated down until it touched the ground, slowly sweeping across the war-ravaged earth.

Alex smiled, his heart soaring as the mist washed away the signs of destruction.

Acid steamed into nothingness.

Embers snuffed out.

Poisoned earth was purified as Ravener-spawn corpses disintegrated, leaving behind only crystal clear water.

“Wait…I think…” Claygon said.

Power gathered in his chest again, preceding something new: an enormous earthworm-like creature spilled out, dropping to the ground in front of his feet.

The placid looking creature turned, tilting its head up toward Claygon.

“I want you…to make fresh earth and new plant life for the land,” Claygon said.

The creature made a deep, rumbling sound, then turned from the golem and dove through the earth, trailing the mist cloud. It took in mounds of soil from one end and expelled it from the other.

In its wake, newly tilled healthy earth remained, dotted with saplings and sprouts that sprung up as Alex and his companions watched.

“By the Traveller,’ Merzhin said. “This is wonderful! With this, the land will be quickly healed! When the people return from the Rhinean Empire, they’ll return to a kingdom that is cleansed, free of the Ravener and the destruction it caused. They’ll come back to a Thameland that offers them a new, fresh life! How wonderful!”

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“It is wonderful!” Theresa agreed. “This could even heal the forests!”

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“It could make all the wilderness in Thameland healthier,” Drestra’s voice crackled.

“It could do more than that…” Alex said. “By doing this, we can make Thameland more fertile than it’s ever been. Imagine if we use these spawn to refresh the earth after every harvest, or clean the forests after wildfires…? Jeez, Uldar had the keys to paradise and only used them to sweep up after his cullings. What a…Claygon? Are you alright?”

The golem was still staring at his chest.

“There…is something else…that I thought of…father…I want to try it…to see…” he said.

Concentrating, the golem again gathered power in chest.

Light began flowing through the dark material making up a part of his body.

“I…want to see…if…” Claygon paused. “Father…I don’t think I can make…dungeon cores like the…Ravener…could…but…”

He extended his hand.

His chest shimmered.

A chunk of black substance—roughly the size of a child’s fist emerged—falling into his outstretched hand.

“Yessss…” Claygon said, his voice filled with excitement. “Father…look! I can’t make dungeon cores…but I can make…the substance…that they’re made of!”

Alex’s eyes bulged as he stared down at the chunk in Claygon’s palm.

It was pure dungeon core essence, in solid form.

The archwizard swallowed. “This…this changes everything.”

“I can…make dungeon core substance…” Claygon said. “Which means…father…we will have…an unlimited supply…I can only make a little bit…at a time…slower than the Ravener could. But I fuel it…with my mana. I could…make it…forever.”

“Then the next age of magic is on the horizon,” Isolde said. “Dungeon core substance will continue to change the world.”

“And you’ll have complete control over all of it once everyone’s finished harvesting the remains scattered across Thameland,” Thundar said. “Lucky you, Claygon.”

“Lucky…us…” Claygon said. “I…am not…Uldar. I am going to…share…the wonders…I have…and not horde them…or use them to terrorise. I was made…to protect…and I am also good…at destroying. But now…I will show…that I am even better…at creating. My spawn and substance…won’t make terror. They will make…all of our lives better. They will make…Thameland and Generasi…better. They will make this…whole world better.”

Alex beamed, tears glistening in his eyes.

“I’m proud of you, buddy,” he said, touching the golem’s arm.

“I…am happy…to hear that…father…” Claygon said. “Now…we should go…and leave these spawn to cleanse the land. I will make…more…to join them…and then we should…go to the Research Castle and…other places. There is…much…to…be done…”

“Yeah,” Alex said, casting invisibility magic on Uldar’s body. “I’m sure Professor Jules is worried about us. So, let’s get going.”

“They’ve come!” an excited cry rose from the Research Castle. “They’re back, they’ve all come back!”

Alex and his companions had appeared above the Castle. In every direction, the land had been devastated, flattened by explosions and turned to dust by terrible heat.

Ravener-spawn bodies and ash littered the blackened moors beyond where the earth was blasted flat. Alex winced at the sight; how many times had he looked at the grassy hills from the Castle’s ramparts? Now those grassy hills were gone.

‘But they’ll be back,’ he assured himself.

Below, the Castle looked no worse for wear, though.

He breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank the Traveller they didn’t break through the defences. I hope everyone's okay.’

As the group floated down to the courtyard, the area was a hive of activity. People were pointing at the returning victors, and cheers were rising. Folk were pumping their fists, clapping, calling their names, stomping their feet, looking at the returning victors with awe.

It felt good, but in some ways, it made Alex feel a little naked.

Even his fame in Generasi hadn’t come close to this.

He couldn’t imagine what their reception would be like in Ussex.

As they landed in the courtyard, folk fell silent, watching them expectantly.

The young archwizard took a deep breath, then his voice boomed across the courtyard:

“We won! The Ravener’s dead, and it’s dead forever. Its accomplice, the fae lord Aenflynn, is also dead. We’ve really and truly won. Thank you all!”

The cry and applause that followed was deafening. Alex looked over the face of every Generasian there…and realised something. Those who lived and worked in the Research Castle for the past roughly two years, had become attached to this land and its fate.

They celebrated as though it was their homeland that had finally found true freedom.

It warmed Alex’s heart in ways he couldn’t put into words.

As a crowd gathered around the triumphant group, Alex felt a finger poke his side.

He looked up at a young giant, his eyes darting around the courtyard and his lips tight with worry.

“Um, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go find my father. I want to see if he’s okay,” Bjorgrund said quickly, almost apologetically.

“Oh, go on. You don’t have to ask,” Alex said. “Just tell your dad ‘hi’ for me.”

“Okay! We’ll talk later! And, Alex…I’m glad I followed you into battle. I’d do it again, in a heartbeat.” The young giant gave him a shy smile, his rune flashing. Then he was off, the crowd parting before him as he moved quickly, calling out for his father.

Soon, another voice drew Alex’s attention.

“Mr. Roth! Mr. Behr-Medr! Ms. von Anmut! Mr. Thundar! You’re back and thankfully, you're all in one piece!”

Alex turned to the Castle’s keep and saw a diminutive figure rushing from the doorway.

Professor Jules hurried through the crowd, her expression a mix of concern, joy and tremendous relief. “You’re all alright!”

The professor pushed her way to the group, then shocked Alex and Isolde by crashing into them and wrapping her arms around their waists. The small woman hugged them as though they might vanish if she let go for even a moment.

“I am so glad you’re all safe,” she pulled back, glancing over the entire group. She did not let them go. Her eyes narrowed and her lips moved as she silently counted everyone present. “Wait…where’s that young giant?”

“He went to go find his father,” Alex said.

“Oh,” she let out a deep sigh. “Thank goodness. Then all of you have made it back safely. And—” She looked at Claygon closely. “—some of you have changed as well. Toraka is going to lose her mind when she sees you, Claygon.”

“I…look…forward to that…” There was a grin in Claygon’s voice.

“Oh, professor, have you seen Svenia and Hogarth?” Isolde asked, looking around. “I would like to talk to them.”

“Oh, I believe they’re still in the tunnels, helping clean up down there,” the professor said. Isolde bowed her head. “Then if you will excuse me, I shall go and check on them. Professor…thank you for looking for us. But, er sorry, but you are still crushing me.”

“Oh! Oh dear!” Professor Jules quickly let go, her face flushing red. “How embarrassing and unprofessional of me, laying hands on my students.”

Isolde smiled. “Professor, we have both graduated. And, honestly, I am very touched by the show of affection.”

Professor Jules’ face turned even redder. “Well, then…I suppose it’s alright. Erm, welcome back. Er, uh, I am sure Ms. Svenia and Mr. Hogarth will be relieved to see you.”

Isolde smiled. “Thank you for looking out for us, professor.”

The young noblewoman broke away from the group to go look for her lifelong bodyguards.

The companions soon started to break into groups of two and three, mingling with the crowd around them. Smiling faces greeted old friends. Hands clapped tired shoulders.

Someone had brought a keg of wine from the Castle, and had already broached it.

Hart, Khalik, Theresa and Thundar were already being toasted by several Watchers, swilling from brimming flagons. Even Drestra was joining in. Claygon was greeting the aeld tree, while Grimloch and Brutus were already chomping on a Ravener-spawn body they had dragged from the moors.

Cedric had excused himself, going with Isolde, leaving Alex alone with his alchemy professor.

He looked down at her, remembering when he had first arrived at Generasi and had chased her down to ask about her course.

That had led him on a journey that had led to today: to victory and celebration in the courtyard of the Research Castle.

“Well, you did it, Mr. Roth,” Professor Jules said. “After all this time, after all that effort. You’ve done it. Congratulations!”

“Thanks professor, for everything. We really did do it,” Alex said. “And it wouldn’t have been possible without everyone’s efforts and talents. I’m just glad that we all came together for this moment.”

“Indeed,” she said. “It’s a beautiful day, and a promise of brighter days ahead.” She sighed. “It’s a shame Miss London could not see this.”

“Well, she was pretty excited the last time I saw her.”

“Oh? Yes, I… what in the world are you talking about?” Professor Jules asked sharply.

As the words left her mouth, there was a flash of light nearby, drawing several eyes.

Before them, two figures appeared.

Baelin, triumphant in his armour, standing tall.

And, complete with glowing halo and burning wings was…

“Miss London,” Professor Jules whispered. Tears welling in her eyes. “How is this possible?”

Carey smiled. “Hello Professor Jules. I’m so glad to see you. Many things have happened today that some would deem impossible, I must say.”

“I…” Professor Jules choked. “The wings…what does this mean?”

Carey puffed out her chest, smiling. “It means that you are now speaking to Carey London, the first Divine Herald of the Traveller.”