Book 13: Chapter 51: Leaves of Identity

Path of Dragons

Elijah had not set out to take the next step in his mind cultivation so soon, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t ready for it. For months – even before he had attained his silver body or master-tier soul – he’d prepared himself to reforge his mind. He’d never settled on an exact method or a way to kickstart the process, but now that one had been forced upon him, it felt like something had clicked in his mind.

Now, he knew precisely what he wanted to do. Whether that was because of instinct, the echo of the World Tree embedded in the Branch sliver, or a subconscious amalgam of everything he’d learned while trying to find his way, it didn’t much matter. What truly mattered was that, for the first time, Elijah felt certain of the path he needed to follow with his mind cultivation.

Thankfully, the process wasn’t particularly complex, and he had plenty of firsthand knowledge regarding the intended structure of the new facets of his mind. To a degree, they were based on real leaves, with all the requisite characteristics like the outer cuticle, the epidermis, mesophyll, and stomata. In addition, he wove the vascularity of his cultivation system through it, creating something far more complex than the structure of any natural leaf.

But he didn’t stop there, either. Not even when he’d perfected the structures of all eighty-one individual facets.

He could have.

But just like with his soul, he wasn’t content with barely meeting the requirements to advance. He wanted more. He needed perfection.

So, he took inspiration from two sources. The first was his soul, which had incorporated fungal structures into the tree imagery. The second came from Shape of Spores. Since acquiring the form back in the Broken Crown, he had become intimately familiar with fungi. Not surprising, considering that the form itself was partially fungal in nature. And with Soul of the Wild, he could feel every single aspect of its existence, right down to the microscopic level.

That, combined with his biological knowledge, had given him invaluable insight into its structure.

He used that now to slowly form tiny, crystalline spores that resembled nothing so much as snowflakes. Using the ethera rushing through him, he gradually molded each one, not stopping until he had eighty-one spores for each leaf. They surrounded the crown of his cultivation tree in a diffuse cloud.

But they weren’t connected.

For that, Elijah tried something he’d never done before and wove nearly microscopic strands of thought, creating an invisible web that bound it all together. Doing so required intense concentration, which was incredibly difficult, especially with his mind in flux. But over the years, Elijah had developed unerring focus.

That served him well as he gradually connected everything.

When he’d finished, his inner world of cultivation surged with power and intent. The threads flexed, and the leaves fluttered in an ephemeral wind.

The gossamer threads connecting them shimmered with power, while the cloud of spores danced in his mindscape.

Nine clusters of nine leaves, each one surrounded by eighty-one spores came together as one, but each cluster was also a separate thing. A true mind unto itself, capable of independent thought, reasoning, and memories. They made his previous facets feel like poor imitations of a mind. Abacuses compared to supercomputers.

As had been the case with his body and soul, the difference represented a step into an entirely new realm of processing power.

Though structure was complete, Elijah knew he was not finished.

At one point, he’d attempted to integrate his three identities – dragon, man, and beast – into a singular whole. And while that was a laudable goal, perhaps even necessary in the long run, he recognized his own limitations. The current framework of his identity was far too reactive. When he acted as a beast, then that personality threatened to overwhelm the others. The same was true when he let his draconic identity take the fore.

And both were strong enough to entirely overwhelm the core of his humanity.

Elijah did not accept that.

So, he delved back into his mind and took a step that could very well backfire. He separated the clusters into three sections. To either side were ones he wanted to associate with man and beast, while the dragon would be at the crown.

As was proper.

But that position wasn’t simply one of prominence. It was also because, without human or beast, the dragon simply would not have existed. They were the foundation – the substance – while his draconic identity was the product.

It was a conscious decision and an acknowledgement of something that had been obvious from the very beginning. The moment Elijah had accepted that dragon core, his fate had altered. And every step he’d taken until that moment had been toward a singular destination – becoming a dragon in truth.

And he had.

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Even if he didn’t want to admit it, that part of him was unrepentantly dominant. That was its very nature. And the more he fought against it, the more unbalanced he would become. Accepting reality – regardless of whether or not it was something Elijah consciously wanted – was the key to self-actualization.

And reality told him that he was a dragon.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t also a human. Or a beast. He was both of those as well. They were just less prominent parts of his identity. They were necessary, though. Without them, the pyramid of who he was would come crashing down to nothing.

They were connected but separate. Intertwined, but wholly distinct.

Elijah embraced that philosophy, connecting them through the fungal filaments. However, once he’d finished that task, he knew he needed to make further changes. For that, he delved into his recent experiences with glyphs and runes.

Over years of study, he’d developed a basic understanding of the underlying meaning behind a variety of symbols. And what’s more, his time developing Druhmor had given him more insight into how to integrate those glyphs into the natural world.

Elijah embraced those lessons and shifted his awareness toward the human side of his tree. The leaves rustled at his presence while the spores swirled in excitement. And upon each leaf he carved a series of glyphs meant to represent the aspect he most associated with his human side.

In that collection of symbols was what it meant to be a man. Reason. Temperance. Mercy. Love. Compassion. Hate. Guilt. And a hundred other characteristics so esoteric that Elijah struggled to name them. But he felt each one, deeply and in full.

The first leaf was the easiest, and the following twenty-six became progressively difficult. Like the very substance of his mind resisted his efforts. Elijah persisted, and over time, he recognized what was happening. Bits and pieces of his mingled identity had suffused every leaf of his mind. By engraving his humanity onto the new versions, he was forced to purge the parts that didn’t belong.

And with that came increased difficulty.

Feeling those remnants also forced Elijah to confront what it meant to be a dragon or a beast, further sharpening his perception of each.

By the end of those three clusters, he felt exhaustion begin to creep in. How long he’d been at it, he had no idea. The world outside his mind had ceased to exist for him. For all he knew, he was being torn to pieces by invading monsters. But he couldn’t stop. Not with the job not even a third completed.

Once he was finished with the leaves, he turned to the spores. The engravings he used for those were much simpler but no less meaningful. He carved them with arduous precision, letting his instincts guide his mind’s knife. In many ways, it wasn’t so different from how he carved his staves. Or his dolmens. Though his efforts were slightly more conscious and far more directed.

When he completed those, he moved on to the clusters representing the bestial portion of his identity. The glyphs he carved upon those leaves were simpler, though no less profound. They spoke to his instincts, his survival-at-all-costs mentality, and his capacity for savagery. But they also suggested his connection to nature itself, his ability to become part of an established ecosystem. That sense of belonging encompassed everything, though there were more aspects Elijah could not name.

As before, each leaf was more difficult to carve than the last, but by that point, Elijah had reached a familiar flow state. Fatigue and pain were still present, but they meant so much less. It wasn’t so different from a runner’s high.

In any case, he quickly moved to the associated spores, which responded energetically to his efforts. They welcomed the state he imposed upon them. It felt a lot like putting together a puzzle – like those glyphs completed the overall picture the spores were meant to represent.

Finally, he moved on to the dragon leaves.

For those, he chose glyphs that represented power. Dominance. A territorial imperative. Might and greed. Protectiveness. And dozens of other, smaller aspects that combined to give everything a distinctly draconic – at least as far as he understood his own identity – cast.

By the time he completed the last leaf and began to carve the associated spores, Elijah was very nearly wrung out.

However, he also sensed that something was missing.

Something that would bind them all together. It only took a short while for him to understand what his system of leaves and spores lacked.

Despite his assertion that his mind was comprised of three distinct identities – dragon, man, and beast – that wasn’t just the case. There was overlap between them all. They needed to be separate, but part of a whole.

And Elijah knew how to bind them together.

He carved upon each leaf a single symbol. It was small, and on its own, it meant nothing. But as part of each collection of glyphs, it changed everything. Suddenly, the pattern became obvious. While the representations of each aspect of his identity was comprised of very different parts, that single symbol highlighted the fact that they were all arranged into a common shape.

And that shape, though meaningless to anyone else, was very, very significant to Elijah. Because it was him, distilled down to a single symbol. It filled in all the gaps – those unknowable pieces of his identity that weren’t represented by dragon, man, or beast. It bound everything together into a unified whole.

At last, Elijah felt his mind cultivation coalesce. It pulsed with power and mental energy as everything erupted into motion.

And finally, the fatigue faded as he entered a state of torpor. The various pieces of his mind – complex and barely held together by his will – solidified into something real. Something almost solid. It forced itself into true existence, crossing the line between mental construct to irrevocable fact.

With every passing moment, it cemented itself into reality until, at last, Elijah opened his eyes and saw something he didn’t expect.

The tree had grown by more than three feet. At first, he thought his cultivation had forced the growth spurt, but when he cast his awareness out, he realized that that was not the case.

From what he could sense of Druhmor – via Soul of the Wild – the rest of the area had grown just as much. He pulled away and rose to his full height before looking around.

It was clear what had happened.

His cultivation session had lasted for months – a supposition supported by the fact that he’d lost quite a lot of weight. Hunger gnawed at his belly as he acknowledged the notification begging for his attention:

Congratulations! You have cultivated an Emerald Mind!

He let out a sigh of relief.

Three aspects of his cultivation had progressed beyond what was generally accepted as possible for an ascendent. And despite not being as well-planned as his body or soul cultivation, the result was more than acceptable.

More, when he felt the sapling, he found that it had begun to incorporate the piece of the Branch. And he suspected that that would be more important than his cultivation advancement.