Last Lord of the Fey (Progression Fantasy)

As he walked up the spire, Zeltana spoke in his mind. What do you want to accomplish with these grafts?

Tristan whispered in response. "I plan on making some permanent changes to the Fey Realm. I'm going to always keep at least fifty percent of ambient essence untouched, and so I will need to increase the size of the realm through grafting to acquire more ambient essence." He reached the top boughs and walked over to the small study that had expanded with new bookshelves, sumptuous cushions, a huge rug, and even one of the hot-interior trees that acted like a furnace, which provided lovely warmth that Tristan only slightly felt. He sank into one of the cushions.

I see. You intend to really go all-out with empowering your forces.

Tristan nodded. "I should give us the best chance of survival. It sounds like the ability to make broad, sweeping changes to the realm is fairly unique." He glanced over at the Astrologer's Glass. "I wonder . . ." He stood up, went to it, and peered down the lens. He could see the large, black dot far up in the distance, and he pushed essence into the device, attempting to will the essence to reach the heavens above.

What are you doing?

"Trying to contact Logos."

A voice came from the device. The same voice Tristan had spoken with when he used the Locate spell. "Ah, Lord Winterbloom. Normally The Matriarch contacts me from here."

"Hello, Logos," Tristan said with a smile. "I had some questions. Can you answer them?"

"As long as you provide appropriate essence."

Tristan pushed more essence through his body and into the device. "Why can I make changes to the Fey Realm that are permanent? Can other Realm Protectors?"

"You are not a Realm Protector. They cannot make permanent changes; they just stabilize the realm with their presence; otherwise, it would collapse in on itself. Only Primordial Heritages can fundamentally alter a realm. The firstborn of a realm, and their descendants."

Huh. I'm learning something new. Ask him why other realms don't have the same thing.

"Why don't other realms have these Primordial Heritages?"

Logos replied in rapid speech that Tristan barely kept up with. "Let's go through the process of how a realm forms, shall we? First, something happens. I can't tell you, because I don't know. But whatever that thing is causes a slice of reality to isolate itself. While isolated, essence reverberates, bouncing around, and eventually thickening. It expands and pushes out against the confines of its space. Then, it begins to take shape into its primordial form. This is the earliest stage of a realm's development, when it gains an identity as a realm, rather than a possibility."

"After that, the Primordial Heritage is formed. The first being. Their nascent subconsciousness shapes the realm based upon the framework of the identity that was attributed by that trapped essence that expanded." His voice kept going, relentless, and without the need for breath. "Then, the essence crucible tries to form. This is where most Primordial Heritages perish, because their body cannot take the stress, and they expire. Species form from their remnants, and often other Heritages – but they lose the purity of being Primordial."

Zeltana's words in Tristan's mind were imbued with the sense of someone coming to a realization. That explains so much. When I woke up, I dreamed weird dreams of warbling nothingness. And I felt an ache in my chest. But I said, "fuck that" and fought against the pain.

Logos continued over Zeltana's words. "Primordial Heritage are the most capable essence-weavers of all . . . but species tend to have physical attributes that make them stronger. A freshly born essence-weaver is at a major disadvantage compared to a species that is ready to fight right out of the womb. The difference between a wolf pup and a Human infant. The Human has infinitely more potential, but the wolf has the greater advantage early on."

Tristan pieced together what Logos would say next before he said it. "That's why most of the Primordial Heritages are not around. They awakened, and either died from the formation of their essence crucible, or were killed by the subsequent emerging species, since they didn't have the time to understand, learn, and implement essence-weaving or even just controlling a realm's ambient essence."

"Correct. More essence, please."

Tristan poured more essence into the device. "Keep going. This is fascinating."

Agreed.

Logos continued. "Now, for first species. There is one that tends to tower above the rest; dragons are seen as the apex predator because they are normally that first species. If a Primordial Heritage survived its initial forming of an essence crucible, odds are they would be a threat in the future. And you are well aware of how dragons think."

"They nip problems in the bud and won't allow themselves to be threatened," Tristan answered. "They have to be the most dominant force."

"Precisely. In summary; a realm forms, a Primordial Heritage awakens, either dies or is killed, and then the first of the new species becomes a Realm Protector and de-facto ruler of that realm—often they are a dragon. Subsequent formation of species and Heritages is completely random and up to chance. This is where we come to the unique setup of the Fey Realm. Your progenitor, the first Winterbloom, was able to take hold of the Fey Realm's essence from the start, and mold it to her will. She dictated the course of its development, and thus nothing was left to random chance. A fully curated and customized realm."

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Damn right. I woke up and knew I would rule. The Fey Realm was mine, and no one else's . . . was, I should say. It's yours, now.

Tristan replied. "Primordial Heritages . . . are there more out there?"

Logos' voice came back with a chuckle. "Realms remain isolated, and there could very well be numerous of them out there."

"What about the Demon Realm?"

"That one is gone."

Explains why Duberceix cannot make changes at will. Okay, I have a good grasp on how it works, now. "Thank you, Logos."

"My pleasure. I wish you luck in your endeavors. Those assassins have been trying to divine your location very often, but whatever disguise you are traveling under has been quite effective."

"Good to hear . . . and thank you for speaking to The Matriarch."

"Oh? No need to thank me. It is refreshing, speaking to one who is my equal. She is quite interesting to talk to. The nature of fairy dragons makes long, deep conversations with them hard to track – I like the challenge."

Tristan stepped away from the device and looked out over the Fey Realm. The Fingers of Night began to crest the horizon as the sun set, and twinkling stars appeared above. "Time to have a party," he said softly.

Sounds fun. I'll be watching.

Tristan stopped both-direction spinning his crucible so that he was alone with his thoughts. I'm one of a few Primordial Heritages . . . making permanent changes to the realm is literally in my blood. He looked down at his hand. I've literally remade species. I've fundamentally altered how the realm operates. He felt that same sense of overwhelming responsibility as he felt when he first made and woke the reforged spriggan. While I'm in the Fey Realm, I'm the equivalent of a god.

Tristan wasn't very religious. His family observed the religious holidays and went to ceremonies when required. He had worshipped The Seven in The Mortal Realm . . . but all of them were different Heritages; Human and Demihuman, respectively. That implied they were not the Primordial Entities. He went right back to the Astrologer's Glass and poured essence from his spinning crucible into it. "Logos, one more question."

"By all means."

"The Seven of The Mortal Realm . . . can a realm have multiple Realm Protectors?"

"No. It is a singular role."

"Thanks," Tristan replied. He stepped away and took a deep breath. The Mortal Realm had no gods. A Realm Protector, yes, maybe even a Primordial Heritage, either hiding out somewhere, or without the knowledge of how to fundamentally shape the realm. The fact that there were no gods did not unnerve him.

The fact that unnerved him as he looked out over the expanse of the Fey Realm. I don't want to be a god. A ruler, sure. Lord of the Fey Realm? Absolutely. But a person who can shape reality to my will? That's a lot of power, and responsibility. He both-direction spun his crucible. "Zeltana?"

Hmm?

"Did you envision yourself as a god when you were conquering and invading?"

Oh . . . I suppose so. At least, while I was in the Fey Realm. Outside of it? No. I was just a powerful warrior and essence-weaver. But growing my powers in the Fey Realm required grafting of other realms. Eventually, one could, I suppose, graft all realms onto their own and become a singular deity that rules everything. Her voice shifted to a tone filled with both concern and glee. Thinking about becoming a conqueror and trying to become the one deity who rules all realms?

"No," Tristan replied. "That's not me. I'm not a god. I'm just a man." He smiled softly. "I never wanted this. I'm happy about all of it, don't get me wrong . . . but do you remember the words I first said when I learned about my mother's Heritage and bloodline?"

Yes. To use your words, you said you were never special, your father didn't want you, and that you were unwanted by all but your mother and grandfather. You said you want to be special, but want to achieve it.

"Do you think I've achieved it? Have I earned this power? This responsibility?"

Zeltana's voice vanished for a few moments, and Tristan waited eagerly for her response. Her voice came back a moment later, sincere and motherly. You have. You've slain monstrous foes, acted like a proper ruler – albeit with some missteps here and there – and have even done what you said was the threshold you would view as living up to your grandfather's legacy. You killed the arch dragon, the Realm Protector, of another realm. You've lived up to his legacy, and then some. Her voice was filled with swelling pride. I couldn't be happier with a successor to my bloodline. You've exceeded my expectations.

Tristan felt that warmth in his chest. The same warmth as when his mother hugged him and called him her "little sapling". The same warmth when his grandfather lauded him for his efforts in practicing against the massive dragon puppets for his training. "Thank you," he said as he felt tears begin to well up.

Go and party. Then, tomorrow, onto finding and grafting Lost Realms.

"And permanent upgrades," Tristan said as he turned to the edge of the platform, walked over, manifested his wings with a thought, and glided down to the forest floor. He willed the wings to vanish and helped in setting up the tables, benches, and decorating.

Felicity was standing in her Elfanoid form amidst it all, clay tablet in her hand as she barked out orders and insults. "Jeremy, take that streamer over there, you dingbat! Rhoden, fucking stop pulling Dawn's tail! You both are on dish duty!"

"Aww, c'mon! I was only making her listen to my really long story!" Rhoden shouted back. The fairy dragon had long, pointed antlers that were more like two spikes jutting back from his head.

"Go talk about it over the dishes later!" Felicity barked back.

Another two fairy dragons flew past Tristan and up to Felicity. "What next?"

She looked past them and saw Tristan, giving him a brief wave. "Okay, go help Jeremy with the streamers and lanterns." She pointed, and the two fairy dragons flew off. Then, Felicity walked over and gave Tristan a kiss on the lips. "Want to help with the decorations?"

"Whatever you want," Tristan replied.

Tristan woke up the next morning next to Felicity. He was wrapped around her, and she was perfectly snuggled up next to him under the blankets. Just staying in bed for a few minutes, he indulged in the feeling of her next to him. His sense of touch had slightly dulled thanks to the trial of the sap, but was still good enough that he could find their activities quite pleasurable.

She stirred in his grip and yawned. "Mmmm. Good dreams," she mumbled.

Tristan kissed her on the neck, and she giggled. "I should get ready," he whispered in her ear.

She shuddered in his grip and pushed back against him. "I'll help you get your armor on after we take care of that."