The grotto of the ancient Guardian was a haven, but Ren knew he could not linger. With a plan now solidified in his mind, he spent a few precious hours resting in the pure, silver-lit water, letting its vitality seep into him and quiet the cold thrum of his scar. He explained the complex, dangerous task ahead to Shiro through their bond. The small snake responded with a feeling of unwavering readiness. He was not just a partner; he was a willing conspirator.
The work began at the edge of the sacred pool. Ren knelt, placing his palms into the clear water. This would not be an act of overt power like the Serpent's Roar, but one of immense, sustained subtlety. He had to become a dowser, not for water, but for a hidden path through the blighted soul of the mire itself.
He closed his eyes and reached out with his senses, guided by the "listening" skill Olthann had taught him. He sank his consciousness into the earth beneath the grotto, feeling the tangled roots, the pockets of gas, the thick, corrupting mud. His goal was to create a magical channel, a tiny, secret artery that would carry the pure, life-giving water from this grotto to Kasai's poisoned pool.
The progress was painstaking and agonizingly slow. He kept the flow of magic to a bare minimum, a mere whisper of his power, terrified that any larger ripple would be detected by the Hollow. He forged the path inch by inch, coaxing the earth to open a tiny fissure, guiding the pure energy forward, and then sealing the path behind it to hide his work. It was like trying to thread a needle in the dark during an earthquake.
Several times, the blight fought back. He would encounter a patch of earth so saturated with corruption that it felt like trying to push a stream through solid stone. The dark energy would try to seep into his channel, to poison the pure water at its source. In these moments, Ren had to draw on his own reserves, sending a pulse of the glade's silver light down the conduit to scour it clean, an effort that left him trembling, his scar flaring with sympathetic, icy pain.
Halfway to his goal, Shiro, perched on a cypress root above him, gave a silent, urgent signal—a sharp flattening of his body, a focused stare. Ren immediately shut down the flow of magic, silencing the channel. He pressed himself into the mud behind a curtain of hanging moss, making himself as small as possible. A moment later, a two-man Hollow patrol glided past, their feet making no sound on the corrupted ground. Their cowled heads swept the area, and Ren felt a cold dread as their unseen gaze passed over his hiding spot. They paused, seeming to sense something, but the silence was absolute. After a long, heart-stopping moment, they continued on their way. Ren let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, his heart hammering against his ribs.
The final stretch was the most perilous. He had brought the hidden channel to the very edge of Kasai's pool, now hidden amongst a thick patch of dead reeds less than thirty yards from the island where the Hollow chanted their unending ritual. He could feel the waves of their dark magic washing over him, a nauseating pressure that made it hard to concentrate.
The final connection had to be perfect, a leak so subtle it would go unnoticed. He couldn't just burst the pure water into the pool; the sudden change in magical temperature would be an alarm bell. He had to create the equivalent of a natural, hidden spring.
With the last of his focused energy, he wove the final piece of the spell. He didn't break the barrier between the channel and the pool; he persuaded it to become porous. He coaxed the pure energy to seep through the mud and roots at the bottom of the pool, right near where the great turtle's immense body rested.
He held his breath, watching. He saw no great flash, no swirl of water. The Hollow continued their chant, oblivious. For a moment, he thought he had failed. But then he saw it. A single, tiny silver salamander, which must have followed the channel from the grotto, slipped out from the mud at the bottom of the pool and swam towards Kasai's immense, moss-covered leg. And then another. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer began to rise from the depths, the pure, silver-green glow of the grotto's water slowly, gently mixing with the blackness.
It was working. The silver vein was complete.
Utterly drained but filled with a quiet, fierce triumph, Ren began his slow, careful retreat back to his sanctuary islet. As he took one last look back, he saw the Great Turtle, Kasai, stir in its long, poisoned slumber. The colossal creature shifted its weight, and its slow, shuddering breath seemed, for the first time, to be just a little deeper, a little stronger.
The healing had begun.