Smohalla follows the Three Sisters into the forest. He soon finds himself huffing his way up a steep incline with loose, rocky soil. Despite her short legs, Ellie navigates the slippery terrain elegantly. Hester and Selene barge up the hill, their long legs compensating for any slippage of their feet. After a sweaty half kilometer, Smohalla finds himself in a small pocket indented into the side of a small mountain. From his excellent sense of direction he knows that they hiked almost due north. The spot, almost like a belly button in the hill, looks back to the south over the campsite, the small lake, and to Mt. Rainier beyond. There are a few trees scattered on the hillside, but the clearing is just rock, exposed to the sky.

At this time of year the sun rises at 07:00 sharp. Smohalla can see the tiniest bit of sun emerge above the mountains to the southeast as he looks over the terrain below. The women kneel in the clearing, forming a triangle before Ellie laughs at their ingrained habit. She moves to the side so that Smohalla can kneel and form a square. The women extend their arms out to their sides so that the square has borders. Smohalla has his arm over Ellie to the left and the troll to his right.

Smohalla looks around, considering the mana of the place. If he had to say, it seems halfway between the flavor of mana back at the camp and what he felt while hunting earlier in the morning. It's a loaded environment; he wonders for a moment if it would be prudent to remove his power focus. He knows his ritual spellcasting is rudimentary and doesn't want to do something unfortunate, like trigger a landslide. Or maybe he should, since he could just fly away and his hired task would be complete.

Ellie notices Smohalla's delay and sees his hesitation on the astral. "Now, Sky-Father, just do what you always do. Songs of healing and purification. Don't worry; Talol will do the rest."

He nods and takes a deep breath. Focusing his thoughts, he closes his eyes so that he can focus on the astral. He sees the mana building up, organizing and collecting itself around the women and himself. They gather it up as a funnel gathers water, channeling it forth into flowing streams. He flexes his mind, beginning the ritual with a high, pretty note of song. The mountain responds with a blast of mana, the force of it jetting through the group like a river torrent.

Just like this morning it was easy. It feels like the power here is perfectly aligned with him. It slips around him easily, like the air over his feathers when he curls himself into a sharp dive. The feeling is liberating. It feels so perfectly natural, like there is nothing in the way. Was it once like this? Back in the age when mountains outnumbered men? Could it ever be this way again?

Smohalla can't breathe. The mana is racing through him vertically, pouring out of his mouth, preventing him from taking a breath. But then he realizes that he doesn't need to breathe: the mountain is sustaining him. The power is rushing through his brain, chasing away conscious thought. He feels it dividing his mind in two, splitting the astral and mundane, forcing them onto separate shores of the river. Then, the river overflows, flooding both shores, carrying him away with it. All at once there is nothing left of the world.


Smohalla wakes to find himself flat on his chest, his arms out to the side and his face pressed into the rough gravel. There's dust in his mouth and his muscles are sore (3 stun) as he slowly pushes himself off the ground. He looks up to see Ellie smiling. Hester and Selene consider him impassively, their eyes not truly focused.

"How did that feel?" Ellie asks, looking pleased.

It was ... liberating. Life-changing. Something has been taken from him, but much more has been given. Who wouldn't want to perform magic here? There's not a drug, nor a BTL, nor any neurochemical transmitter that could compare to it.