《The Shadow's Troubled Past》
Prologue - A Shadow Comes
¡°She who shatters shall be infused with the essence of life and reign supreme over that which surrounds her.¡± ¨C Script of the Matron. Master of the first beacon.
A rustle in the night. Just the slightest noise of movement is enough. I wake with no sound of my own and look about. Shifting my head side to side, I work out the kink in my neck at the same time. A slight huff and both my legs swing down around the branch I¡¯ve been sleeping on. I¡¯ll never stop grumbling about how uncomfortable it is to sleep sitting upright.
Locking my ankles together I flip my head forward gathering my midnight black hair to the front. I comb it with my fingers getting any little leaves out before tying it back into a ponytail. So very tired. I must have slept only three or so hours judging from the position of the full moon from in between the frail leaves of the tree that still cling to life. Gently bumping the bark of the branch with my forehead I mutter, ¡°Thank you.¡± A small clink reminds me to tuck back the translucent crystal on black chain that hangs from my nape.
I swing one of my legs back over and drop a few meters down. Landing on the ground with a muffled thump from the leaf covered floor, the branch gently shakes creating little creaking sounds. I run my hands down my skirt and smooth a rumple or two out. ¡°Time to go.¡± Taking off at a sprint I head due West deeper into the forest. My bare feet create little to no noise as the wind around me whispers sweet nothings. I¡¯ve long learned to tune out the annoying wind sprites and pay them no heed.
I gather a deep breath and exhale slowly. My mind ripples and with each wave I slowly give part of myself to the darkness around me and draw the shadows of the night back to me. Soon I am cloaked in a veil and increase my speed sending back wisps of inky smoke. I remember once being told I look like a silver eyed goddess of death. Giving a small rare smile I gently shake my head and continue onwards. My destination lies only a short few Km away.
For the next hour or so I glide past the terrain as it slowly starts to give way from frail to death. Ever since the incident over 10 odd years ago a poison has befallen the land. It saps the energy from all that touch it and spreads like a living rot. This rot feeds off its host, sapping just enough energy to keep the host alive for as long as it can. Those that can fight back against the rot are called Awakened and the ones who cannot are Lost. Every living thing is affected differently by this poison we call Death¡¯s Touch.Stolen story; please report.
The plague came that fateful day 10 years ago when a shower of what we now call Spikes befell the land from the sky. Behemoths in size and a strange coldness to the touch they struck the earth piercing deep. Their tips are open to the sky and shelter the entrance. Many theories of where they come from has been shared but one thing has been agreed upon by all. They are the source of all our misfortune and fears.
After another hour of swift running I finally arrive. The veil lifts and I draw my trench coat tighter around me to ward against the chill of this dreadful sight. Before my eyes yawns a pitch black oval arch that instills fear in all who view it no matter how experienced. I ball my fists and advance to the towering Spike. This one must be quite old as it scrapes against the sky. They grow in power and size the more they poison.
Lifting my bare left hand to my lips I kiss my knuckles and rub them against the black fingerless glove on my right. Working up my courage, I press my right hand against the oval entrance and feel it pulse. Once, Twice, Thrice. My hand begins to sink into the nameless material and I lose all feeling. I hold my breath as my shoulder comes into contact, then my face. Coming out the other side I fall to one knee and grip my throat with a hand coughing roughly. Gulping air, I shiver as sensation returns. The toll to enter making its presence known to me.
I open my mouth and report my due with resolve, ¡°To progress is to struggle, for life is frail and I have been touched by death itself.¡± I wait for only a few seconds keeping my face free of emotion and head down. Pressure builds and the Spike shakes for a moment, shifting, waking. Energy gathers above me lifting my head and coalescing into words that draw the eye, ¡°As is your right, Challenger. Rise and Fall, again, and again, for you shall surely fail.¡±
The words fade away. A cool breeze assaults my skirt dancing on the edge as I shakily stand. I heave a heavy sigh of relief. Not all Spikes take kindly to intruders. Before me lays a land of twisted space filled with a different world. A faint energy of life suffuses this land of horror. Stolen life given anew. The only way to take back what is rightfully ours is to travel to the depths and upon finding the core, shatter it. Much easier said than done however. Moonlight softly lights a path ahead covered in beckoning shadows. Laughing a laugh of slight mockery, I smile viscously. ¡°Let¡¯s begin, shall we?¡±
Prologue 2 - A Shadows Fight Part 1
¡°What splendor! Rejoice, for the angel of death sways to a dance the likes of us will never see again in our pitiful mortal lives.¡± - Extract from a long-forgotten poem.
I take long strides with my stalking legs and keep a swiveling gaze. The shadows dance and welcome me trying to draw my eyes. Long years of experience pay them no heed especially since I am in my element. The first levels are always the easiest since there is less life energy around. It does no good to be to tense but neither is it wise to let my guard down. I keep my arms at ready by my side even though I currently hold no weapon.
Tens of meters later I encounter a split path. ¡°Nothing at all so far? What are you playing at Keeper¡¡± It is unusual to come to a path decision without at least some kind of a guardian. Even the weakest top level should have a twisted beast! Especially for such a supposedly old Spike. It will do no good to mull over these issues to much, it may be a trick for the mind. Nodding to myself, it is best to be safe. ¡°Twisted you may be, but you are still mine to wield fiercely. Peirce into this realm my Wrath!¡±
The edges of my mind dim for but a moment. A spell circle briefly flashes red from the glove on my right hand and out emerges Wrath in his full glory. A midnight sword with veins of ruby blood and a hilt of majestic bone. My partner. ¡°Hey buddy, time to work again.¡± Wrath¡¯s veins pulse once in excitement mirroring my own silver glint of the eyes. I turn right and speed up hoping to draw beasts from hiding by showing them my back. It worked! Grinning I pivot and swing high, my sword splitting the beast who silently leapt from the shadows of a dying tree in two halves. ¡°Gotcha!¡±
Humming, I take a step closer to the twitching carcass and inspect it, ¡°A shadow panther hmm?¡± No wonder I hadn¡¯t encountered any twisted yet. This is a beast of opportunity that stalks its prey. Prodding its body, I wonder how many more of its kind might be nearby. ¡°Oh well, not that it matters.¡±
Spikes steal the life around them and incorporate it into themselves. Twisting the life in the process to suit its own needs and quirks. The upper levels usually have low levels of that life force since they like to keep it near the core and thus only weaker twisted can survive. When clearing a level, you are allowed a small amount of rest and a drop of life force to replenish some of what you use. It is generally not worth even using life force at all in the upper levels though since I can just force my way through with brute strength normally.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
After clearing a level, the Spike only has to replenish if it was full cleared. Otherwise it¡¯ll just let it naturally recuperate. Additional rewards can be obtained for full clearing based on the difficulty. Naturally there is no reason for me to bother clearing the top levels. Now knowing this floor¡¯s creature base, I skip forward no longer worrying. Within this realm of shadows I can sense movement around me for a few meters in all directions.
Maybe the other twisted saw me smite down their companion, because after a brief 100 meters I¡¯ve reached the end of this floor. Nothing but an unending sky of moonlight and this small path flanked by dying trees. There was not even a second attempt on my life. ¡°How utterly boring. Isn¡¯t that right Wrath?¡± Wrath pulses in concurrent. Double wooden doors stand in my way and I lightly tap a finger against the knocker. A brief current of life force passes from me to the door and back. The two halves of the door swing inward and torches light leaping from one to the next until they start to wind down a stone staircase.
An empty stone room besides the single offering bowl sitting atop an equally grey and unimpressive short stone pillar. Exactly what I was expecting. Minimal effort for a first level. Got to start somewhere though. I step forth and touch the tip of my finger to the smallest hint of a green droplet at the bottom of the offering bowl. It is so small it does not even emit a smidgen of light. I blink once when my finger connects. The tiniest of sharpness travels through my body to my mind. It Is hard to explain this feeling unless you get a real jolt of it.
As the droplet disappears the wood doors behind me rumble close. No reason to stay here so I should just move on. Briskly I walk down the stairs and onto the next level. Much like the first, the next three levels quickly go by. Another path of moonlit dead trees with some minor twisted bats, then some type of fox, and a boorish monkey that was quite rude. It even dared to throw some shade at me!
¡°Quite the sneaky Keeper though.¡± I can tell its trying to get me to relax. Such an amateur trick won¡¯t work on me however. I¡¯ve been through my fair share of spikes, of course I¡¯ve never completed one before. Such a thing is reserved only for the best of the best. It gets way to hard the deeper you go. An old memory surfaces that I quickly shove as deep down into my personal abyss as possible. My heart twinges painfully for a second. Got to steer firmly away from those thoughts. I grimace then clear my mind.
I push open the slightly higher quality oaken doors at the bottom of the stone stairs of the fourth floor. What greets me is a nice change of pace. Instead of a single path and dead trees I now have the option between three paths and sickly yellow trees with grass! The light also seems to have turned more towards twilight casting longer shadows over the land. I can already tell this is going to be a blast. No more warm up levels.
Prologue 3 - A Shadows Fight Part 2
¡°They are stones of true power beyond imagination. Miracles manifested in the physical form.¡± ¨C From the Book of the New World Order.
I gather energy and sharpen my hearing. It was eerily quiet. I¡¯ve been traveling the middle most path for about a minute now and I¡¯m sure of it. Something will come momentarily. There! From my left and behind me, just outside the range of my peripheral. Fur brushes against bark. Multiples. I count five medium forms entering my shadow range. Shouting, ¡°Time for a meal Wrath!¡± My hips rotate, and I dash forward. Two heartbeats and I¡¯m upon them. Arm snapping upward and left Wrath slices a crescent into the hide of the first beast. I drag my arm in an arc biting into the second beasts surprised face.
¡°Tch!¡± The hyena looking beast managed to pull back and only lost an eye for my troubles. I stab my sword down and silence the pained yipping coming from below, never taking my eyes off the snarling quad of hyenas in front of me. They spread out trying to surround me, like I¡¯d let them do that! Dashing forward once again I charge the already injured hyena. It lowers itself and pounces with gleaming fangs open to meet me. Meanwhile two of its companions jump from either side.
Ducking low my right arm draws up and guts the injured beast and I throw my body hard right my feet sliding against the ground until I¡¯ve come to a stop. This allows me to dodge the other two by a small margin while simultaneously not dirtying my clothes with the stench of death. Not wanting to give them time to regroup I close and clash with the closest hyena. I parry a swiping paw and proceed to separate the paw from the foreleg! The beast crashes to the ground and I slit its throat. Two more to go.
The one in plain view opens its maw letting loose a mighty roar that you would not expect from the size of it. At the same time the last hyena that had been hiding in the shadows cast from the twilight leapt from behind me. A brief presence tries to hold my thoughts weakly for a second, but I am immune to such a pitiful attempt. I crouch ever so slightly and push up strongly shouldering the beast from under and launching it forward into it¡¯s rushing mate! They collide with a loud smack and fall to the ground stunned. I swipe forward and behead both with a single powerful swing!
¡°Hoof! Now that¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about. Nothing better than a good workout.¡± Wrath seems to sing in agreement absorbing any blood that stains him. I lean against a tree and breathe for just a moment letting my own blood calm. The fight only lasted but a minute and a brief respite is all I need.
Like this I continue to travel the path turning twice more and fighting two similar groups along the way. In the distance I spot the oaken doors signaling the end of the path. I duck behind the nearest tree and prepare myself. This is the fifth floor. Every five floors there will always be a guardian. Grabbing the lowest branch, I start to climb.
When I reach near the top I softly chant, ¡°I peer into the shadows, and darkness watches me back. Night¡¯s Gaze.¡± Smoke of wispy mist fills my eyes as the life force turned black mixes with the silver of my eye granting me enhanced vision into the shadows. ¡°Ah, there you are.¡± Set into the black material of the spike is an alcove devoid of light. This alcove sits to the side of the oaken doors a few meters and holds within a hyena easily twice the size of the previous ones I¡¯ve fought. Flanking this monstrosity are two particularly viscous looking minions. I blink and interrupt my previous spell returning my vision to normal.
¡°I¡¯d best even the odds. Ready yourself Wrath¡±
I close my eyes and reach deep within myself to grab a larger portion of life force than normal. Opening them, I target my eyes slightly above and behind the giant. ¡°I live among the shadows and the darkness claims me as its own. No light shall ever bar my path, for every light has a shadow of its own. Transposition!¡± A sense of vertigo engulfs me, and I briefly cease to exist only to reappear above my targets. As I fall I swing down hard cleaving a minion¡¯s head from its shoulders. Weakness assaults me and I almost stumble, but quickly correct my new footing.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
The other two are quick to act and spin while snarling. Flowing into my next action without stopping I whip Wrath up leaving a light furrow in the ground. Wrath travels true and splits the head of the second minion that so kindly turned to him vertically. Dancing back the giant snaps the area I just was in. The snap resounds all around off the walls of the alcove. Grinning manically, ¡°Come get me big guy!¡±
My ponytail sways back and forth as we both dance and attempt to trade blows. A few strands come loose and swing irritatingly in my vision. I blow up and I dodge down from a paw only to have to hitch my breathe and throw myself backwards to dodge the giant clamping his teeth down on me. I may be faster, but this guy is stronger. He paws the ground impatiently and growls menacingly. Deciding enough was enough probably, the hyena howls loudly and the effect magnifies bouncing off the walls! This briefly disorients me and a paw slams into me throwing me against one of said walls. ¡°Ouch!¡±
¡°That hurt!¡± Looking up, I see wide open teeth inches from my face. I tear my head back and to the side, his teeth just barely grazing my neck creating four decent welt stripes. The worst part however, is I am now flying back and forth in the air by the hem of my trench coat. *Riiiiip* Being sent flying once again, I truly grow maddened this time. ¡°Son of a B*! That was a precious gift!¡± Before I hit the wall yet again, I hurriedly mumble out, ¡°I walk with the shadows, hasten my feet. Shadow Steps!¡± Ink filled mist once again takes hold of my feet and trail behind.
Arriving at the creature¡¯s side I bury Wrath into his side all the way to the bone hilt. A loud yip sounds out and Wrath is torn from my hands. Next thing I know I¡¯m knocked flat on my butt as the truly enraged beast towers over me. I laugh and slide under the beast. Finally, this imbecile let down his guard after he thought he¡¯d discarded my weapon! I grab the hilt sticking out of his side with both hands and tug mightily as I slide. With a swoosh Wrath tears a long rip through the beast¡¯s insides. Blood gushes out. All it takes is a moment for death to take you.
Letting go of Wrath, I scramble from beneath the hyena as I do not want to be crushed. With a poof of dust, he falls over making quite the thud. The adrenaline starts fading as I look around the surroundings making sure it¡¯s clear. My right foot itches and my left shoulder twinges painfully. Might have lightly sprained it. I take care to only roll the right one to work some tension out and walk back to the giant¡¯s corpse. Putting a foot against the side of the corpse, I use my right arm to yank Wrath out. ¡°Good work bud. Couldn¡¯t have done it without you.¡±
Wrath flashes happily. I really meant it when I said I couldn¡¯t. When in contact with blood Wrath can slowly absorb the life force out of living things. A guardian has substantially more life force than a normal creature of the Spike. It would take me far to long to drain enough life force to kill the beast by myself before I ran out of energy myself. ¡°Return Wrath.¡± Wrath shines and dissipates. My glove becomes heavier, filled with ethereal weight.
¡°To the victor, goes the spoils.¡± I plunge my left hand into the beast¡¯s insides, taking care not to further injure my shoulder. Groping around, I find what I am looking for and pull out the heart. With a squelch it comes free. It is abnormally larger than a normal person would suspect for even the giants size. I take a tiny knife and cloth sack from my small brown leather waist pouch. The cloth jingles a bit as I set it aside and make an insertion on the heart. My hand digs for a minute before pulling out a pebble sized yellow stone. Nodding happily, I deposit it in the sack and return my items to the pouch.
¡°Oof.¡± Yawning, ¡°Tired.¡± I walk out from the bloody alcove exhausted from the days happenings and make my way to the oak doors. I follow the normal process and enter the slightly warmer stone room. This one is different from the others as it is a checkpoint. Set into the stone directly across the entrance is an archway like the Spike¡¯s entrance. To my right is the stone stairs that lead to the next level. My left reveals a straw bundle and water basin that bubbles with spring water. Presented still somewhat non-grandly in the middle of the room is the offering bowl which holds a droplet of life force half the size of my pinky finger top digit.
Touching it sends a much bigger jolt of a sharpness imbued with a feeling of taste that sticks in your mouth under your tongue. Old world cherry cough syrup is what I think its like, but everyone has different opinions. Either way it refills what I¡¯ve used and a bit more over the past day. I¡¯m beat. I crouch next to the basin and take long drinks to slate my thirst. Plopping back and down onto the straw I throw my right arm over my face. ¡°Night.¡± A flash of red answers and I let unconsciousness whisk me away to the land of dreams.
Prologue 4 - A Shadows Departure
¡°Meditation is a doorway to the soul. Flood it with the power of life and you shall be born anew.¡± ¨C From the Book of the New World Order.
Flickering light prances on my eyelids. Memories surge and surface with the screams of the long dead. I know I am dreaming yet there is nothing I can do about it. A prisoner in my own mind whenever I¡¯m sleeping safe and soundly. The torches most likely prodded this one out. Around me is the suburbs of a city. This memory is from the early stages of year one I recall. Back then no one understood anything. The government and their scientists assured us they were figuring stuff out. They were hunkering down in reality.
Flames light the night sky drowning the stars in acrid smoke. Regular people stampede over one another in their haste to get away. They run from the flames, a fear more primal and insignificant. Make shift walls encompass this particular suburb. An army outpost nearby turned refugee camp. People crowd against the gates as they creak. Individuals clad in fatigues argue and attempt to control the situation but are overpowered.
The gates are flung open straight into the waiting arms of the Lost. Weak but numerous they outnumbered us almost 20 to 1 back then. A cacophony of wails and screams mix create harmonious symphony with the thundering cracks of machine gun fire. I look down from above at what my mind captured in great detail so many years ago. I watch my previous self hastily pull alongside a smaller woman into a most convenient cellar. My dream self-shows no emotion as it is not capable of doing so, but I feel the most horrible of pain grip my heart. This is always the worst.
I just want to curl into a ball and forget. The jagged edges of a wound that is never allowed to heal. The doors of the cellar close and I am pulled inside at the clicking of the lock. There is no power and the darkness would surely feel damp if this was real. I sit my ethereal body against the mossy stone wall and hug my knees to my chest. Across the cellar my past self does the same and my little sister leans her head on my shoulder. Unintelligible murmuring and muffled screams of the dying sound overhead.
Resting my forehead against my knees, I softly rock myself. I do not need to look to know what comes next. Past me recoils at the banging of the metal cellar door locked from inside. Shouts of ¡°Let us in!¡± ring out filled with absolute terror. Hoarse screams and muted meaty thwacks follow. My sister buries her head in my chest and her form shakes with heavy sobs.
For the next few hours I endure this living nightmare. I watch myself jerkily get up and unlock the cellar door. No noise has made its way down for at least 45 minutes now. Poor me, I wish I could tell her not to look. What a shock the strewn entrails and minced meat must make. A decoration fit for the lords of hell.
Surely, I must be paying for my sins to be witness to such tragedies over and over in my dreams. Numbness invades my core as I fade in the new day sunrise streaming in. Forever confined to the shadows I shall be.
The smell makes me get up. All I want is to keep laying and wallowing for a bit longer. The previous days work does not combine well with sickly sweet sweat. I reek and no girl worth her salt likes to smell. So, I stand and arch my back slowly like a cat getting rid of the invading creeks. I raise my arms high and remember my bad shoulder. Passing my face, the motion sends cool air over my wet cheeks. My foot feels fine which is good. There is a soft ache to my body which speaks of overexertion.
Methodically I remove my clothing. I let the trench coat fall from my shoulders and afterwards lift the close knit long sleeve shirt. Once velvety smooth it is now coarse from wear with rips here and there. Off comes the band of leather with pouch securing my skirt in place. The skirt drops easily folding in rings. I step out from the center while unwrapping the cloth binding my modest breasts. Bras became too easy to damage in combat and I can¡¯t be bothered scavenging for replacements every time. Although uncomfortable as it was at first, it is barely noticeable by now.
The long piece of material cascades down unto the floor. I dip a toe in the water and goosebumps rise. What I wouldn¡¯t give for a hot bath for once¡that would be heavenly. Slowly I submerge my foot into the basin taking care to not slip. The edges give way to a gentle sloping floor. Small waves from the bubbling center lap at my ankles. Roughly 4 meters in diameter and 1 m deep it occupies the entirety of this corner of the room. Being crystal clear I can see the flat round floor that levels off with a hole the size of my fist in the middle.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
My belly button comes to rest just below the top. A cloud of pink and black taints the water before being pulled towards a smaller hole set in the wall. The water swirls slowly helping to remove a weeks¡¯ worth of travel and fighting. That was when I last passed by a small river clean enough to wash in. I bend, clasping my hands around one leg and running the length. Small bumps or depressions here and there marking past experiences. New cuts and scratches sting slightly. By no means is my skin flawless anymore sadly.
The ends of my hair become wet and drip whenever I shift. Little plop plops and the bubbling water help to soothe me. Switching to my arms I inspect my nails and take the time to reach out for my knife. I use the tip and slowly scrape out accumulated grime. After scraping my arms free of blood and dirt I gently lean back against the slope. A bulge at the back of my neck reminds me of the ponytail. I untie the bundle and gather it over my left shoulder.
Blindly, I reach back and take hold of the pouch. The knife goes back in and out comes a luxury. A very small bottle of soap and a broken comb. The type you would find in a pre-apocalyptic hotel. I carry only what is absolutely necessary on me. I squeeze three drops onto my hand and lather my hair. I take my time and gingerly run the comb through. For the next several minutes I work out any snarls or debris.
Satisfied, I lean back once more and let my hair float around as it wishes. I keep my nose just above the water line and let any residue tension be swept away. My necklace bobs in time with my breathing, gently lifting and settling. The crystal catches the flickering of the torches and refracts the light beautifully. It¡¯s important to take it easy any time you have the chance in this hellish world. A light fragrance of lilies permeates the air. My thoughts turn away from last night. The mind sharp and clear.
A bag full of precious stones. They should fetch a fair price. Crystallized life that is only attainable in the depths of spikes. The pebbles I have are of the lowest grade. I could move on to the deeper levels for higher quality but it¡¯s to risky alone. Normally one cannot even complete the first checkpoint without grave injury. I am alone but not. Wrath stands with me. We grew together for years to get to this point. I clench my right fist together feeling warmth from my glove. I would not remove it even if I could. This glove that Wrath dwells in regenerates visible to the naked eye whenever damaged.
A good long soak later and I¡¯m forced to get out by my stomach. It growls angrily at me. Life force can keep it at bay but never fully satisfied. I think the last time I ate was around four days ago? I had managed to track down a weak rabbit. Gurgling comes from below, ¡°Alright, alright. I¡¯m moving.¡±
At the bottom of my pouch is the last of my meagre items. Two packs of crumbled saltines long past their shelf life and a small piece of film. I remove one pack and rip the top off. Tilting my head back I gulp while shaking the package. How I wish for a leg of sizzling rabbit again! Sticking my finger in the package, I bring it back to my mouth and suck a bit. Somewhat pacified, my stomach settles.
I walk to my discarded clothing laying at the side of the pool. Cupping my hands, I take a drink to wash down the salt before flipping my skirt, shirt, and wrappings through the water. The trench coat is left out since it would take to long to dry and will go a long way to mask my smell in the wild. With that done I lay out the items to dry. Picking up the trench coat I inspect it. Part of the collar has a chunk missing and a few new rips exist that will have to be patched. Nothing I can do for now though. I settle it around me and draw it tight for some more warmth.
Now to process the gains. Plopping onto the straw I cross my legs. I absorbed the life force yesterday and trace amounts before that. Absorbing life force takes away the dullness of one¡¯s mind but does not make it yours to wield. It can be considered recharging a battery and then finding you cannot use the battery because you do not have the appropriate adapter.
In a process much similar to the opening of the level gates, I circulate life force. This time however I keep it a closed circuit within myself. I grab ahold of the foreign lifeforce lazing around in my blood and force it to follow my body¡¯s natural circulation. Left alone it will just travel freely with no care, stopping and going as it pleases.
Starting at my heart it rushes towards the lungs and I deeply inhale. Exhaling, it travels to my extremities. Early on everyone thought we were purifying the life force. But in actuality we are tuning the energy to ourselves. The best example I can think of is that each person has their own unique wavelength they operate on. This cycle of circulation lets the energy settle into that wavelength and enable it¡¯s use. Like this I cycle the life force manually for the next three hours.
Refreshed, I stand up. Mediating does wonders for the body. Most of my aches are gone with just a twinge left in my shoulder. The small cuts are scabbed over or barely noticeable white lines already. It is best to mediate after proper preparation so no ¡®negative¡¯ energy can influence you. Superstition mostly, but well-founded nonetheless in today¡¯s world.
I redress and make my way to the mini arch gate. Mission accomplished and time to head back. Spikes are the only area to replenish life force unless attempting to absorb power stones. Dangerous business that. Touching the arch, light flashes and I appear outside unmolested. I swear the only reason I have to go through such unpleasantness at the entrance is wholly for theatrics.
¡°Home, sweet home, here I come.¡±