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19.1: Chrysallite

I let go of the splintered rock and lower myself to a crouch. Thankfully, there is an assortment of other rocks below the entryway I can make use of and my hands quickly latch onto them.

Looking down, it's clear to me that the rest of the mountain is angled enough that I won't have to climb. I may be able to walk it if I'm cautious.

I weave down the mountainside, staggering over jutting out rocks and praying for my life that I don't fully lose my footing and fall to my death. Some areas I have to carefully climb down, but most I'm able to walk.

I duck behind covered areas as I move, doing my best to break the line of sight in case anyone is standing above, looking for me. I cover my tracks and leave broken branches and bits of my torn robe to hopefully veer the Draconians off course - much like I used to when I hid from Meben - in case Vylek and the others really are already chasing after me.

How good is a Draconian's sense of smell? Are they capable of tracking my true path?

I don't know, but I still do it and hope the thick scent of soot in the air will help conceal my true direction. I peer around as I descend, keeping my eyes peeled for a gnarled tree. I move lower and lower, still not catching sight of it. I reach the base of the mountain still without having seen it and panic surges through my chest.

Was I wrong? Is there nothing here?

I run alongside the base of the mountain, praying to catch sight of it. My eyes scan the crevices and foliage in case he hadn't meant an actual tree but instead left me some kind of riddle.

If only he was here to help me. If only he was still alive. If only I could feel his gentle, warm touch one more time.

A misshapen bundle of leaves swaying in the wind catches my eye and I quicken my pace. It looks so unlike the other foliage I can't help feeling like it might be the one, and my suspicion is confirmed as the rest of the tree comes into view.

The trunk spirals together in lumps as if it was created by multiple trees merging together, and the branches jut out in odd locations with disproportional amounts of leaves adorning each one. There is nothing else like it around; it must be the one.

I scurry toward the base of the tree and run my fingers along the trunk, wondering where Master Synn would have spent his time. If his family was just up ahead on the mountaintop, he must have been more concealed than this.

My gaze drifts over the mountainside and a tiny crack between the rocks grabs my attention. Glancing from side to side to make sure no one else is around, I push my way through the brush laying against it and squeeze my body through.

A gasp escapes my lips. The inside of the cavern is made of deep purple stone, with mounds of dazzling icicle-shaped yellow crystals dangling from the ceiling. Everything around me glitters and sparkles like the shimmering lake I once took solace beside.

That was my special place, and this was his.