The Primeval Era-Chapter 47: Return!

The night turned into day.

And as if the cover of darkness had veiled absolutely everything that had occurred, Damian stood on stone while staring out into the expanse around them.

The Lands had transformed with the coming of dawn.

The Ancestor Pillars that had glowed so vibrantly through the night had dimmed with the rising sun, their luminescent crowns fading to ordinary green as natural light reclaimed dominion over these lands. They still rose impossibly tall, still held that air of ancient majesty, but they no longer seemed like beacons of otherworldly power.

Just trees.

Very large trees, but trees nonetheless!

The jagged Spirit Stones that had reflected Grandmother Essun’s staff light in unexpected directions now revealed their true colors in the morning glow. Deep purple shot through with veins of crystal that sparkled rather than shimmered, beautiful in a different way than they had been beautiful in darkness.

And in the distance, what he had initially mistaken for small mountains revealed themselves to be something else entirely. They were not mountains, not really. They were massive rising clusters of stone, pillars and formations that had thrust up from the Land in some ancient cataclysm and remained standing through countless ages.

The Lands of Stone earned their name honestly.

Stone below. Stone rising around. Stone in the hearts of those who survived here.

Behind him, Grandmother Essun and the others had risen up.

The Wisewoman was continuing as if everything was normal. As if less than an hour ago, she had not been holding him while he wept into her rags.

She gave no indication that anything unusual had occurred.

She simply used her gnarled stick to actually push the Chieftain and the other two Warriors, prodding them into motion.

"Move, move! The sun does not wait for broken bones and bruised pride! We leave now or we leave never!"

The Chieftain and the two Warriors stumbled forward, their injuries making every step an exercise in pain. But they moved. No one argued with Grandmother Essun when she used that tone.

Damian breathed out as he left the dream and nightmare behind.

His eyes shined with arcs of blue Mana, the power within him having stabilized overnight into something that felt almost natural. His bones hummed with the stored energy of the Second Circle. His flesh, blood, marrow, and organs pulsed with supporting Mana that exceeded anything a normal Bone Tempering Warrior would possess.

But his mind was not on his cultivation.

His mind was currently repeating names of many beings.

Khorvash.

Patesi Vorath.

Lady Sareneth.

And others.

So many others.

Names of those who had betrayed his bloodline. Names of those who had murdered his parents. Names of what Vassal Tribes would look up to as Anointed Ones and sacred beings worthy of reverence.

But the only feeling that he got when he reminded himself of their names and faces were waves of hatred.

He had suppressed this hatred for eight fucking years! Had buried it beneath the necessities of survival, beneath the mask of a simple farmer, beneath the acceptance that he was powerless to change anything.

But he was not powerless anymore.

Since his mother wanted him to be strong, he would be strong.

And since he got access to power, he had to decide for himself exactly what to do with it.

Vengeance was one option.

There were also other options.

But there was time for such thoughts later. Right now, he had to go back and prepare. Talk to Uncle Adam about all the possibilities. Figure out what this situation with the Golden Tribe and the Iron Serpent Tribe meant for the Purple Stone Tribe’s future.

One thing at a time.

"Let’s go."

He voiced out behind him, turning away from the expanse and toward the direction of home.

Grandmother Essun came up from behind, her bent form moving with that deceptive speed he had witnessed the night before. She fell into step beside him, her stick clicking against stone with each stride.

"Tokoloshe."

Her voice was casual, conversational.

"Those girls wish to follow you."

She pointed her stick toward the women who were sticking close to each other in a tight group, their eyes constantly darting toward Damian with expressions that mixed fear and hope and something that looked uncomfortably like fervor.

"And not in a temporary sense."

Grandmother Essun continued.

"They wish to follow you and bring what remains of their families to the Purple Stone Tribe."

She smiled that yellow-toothed smile of hers.

"In the Lands of Stone, the powerful are followed because they represent security. And you can be considered somewhat powerful, Tokoloshe."

...!

They wished to follow him?

Damian almost shook his head at this.

He knew that they could not leave them in the middle of these dangerous regions alone. For now, they would have to come back with them to the tribe. That was simple practicality. Abandoning them here would be the same as killing them, just slower and crueler.

But for them to follow him?

To bring their families?

To look to him as some kind of leader?

Hah!

He was no leader. Those who followed him were all dead!

Leaders were strong and certain and knew what they were doing.

He was none of those things at this moment.

But he did not want to have a back and forth right now. They had to get back to the tribe anyway, and they could figure things out from there. The women could make their own choices once they were safe, once they had time to think clearly, once the terror of captivity had faded enough for rational thought.

"We will discuss it later."

He said simply, and set off toward home.

---

Trekking back the way they came was even easier this time around.

The difference between night and day in the Lands of Stone was not merely one of visibility. It was a difference of fundamental character. The darkness held terrors that the light chased away, predators that retreated to their lairs when the sun rose, dangers that simply ceased to exist until nightfall returned.

The only thing making them a little bit slower was that they had to account for others.

The Chieftain and the two Warriors were injured badly enough that fast movement was beyond them. They walked with the careful steps of those whose bodies had been broken and only partially mended, Grandmother Essun’s Bloodmoss Paste doing its work but not performing miracles.

The seven women were frightened and exhausted, their ordeal having left them drained in ways that went beyond mere physical fatigue. They clustered together and moved at whatever pace the group set, never complaining but never moving faster than absolutely necessary.

Still, they made good time.

They had left at that perfect window where the laziest roaming Primal Beasts should still be lounging around, digesting whatever they had caught during the night, not yet hungry enough to resume hunting. The predators of the mid-slopes would be drowsing in their lairs. The scavengers would be picking over kills already made. The truly dangerous creatures would be deep in slumber, waiting for darkness to return.

The path between the Spirit Stones and Ancestor Pillars was clear and mostly level, easy terrain for even the injured to navigate. The morning air was cool and clean, carrying scents of growing things rather than blood and smoke.

In less than an hour, they had covered the distance that had taken twice as long in darkness.

"Hoo..."

Damian breathed out as he saw the outline of the Purple Stone Tribe!