The psychic shrapnel of the Master's severed connection took hours to fully recede. Ren lay by the edge of the sacred pool, the grotto's pure water his only comfort, as Kasai's immense, calming presence shielded him from the lingering echoes of the void. He described the vision to the Great Turtle—the throne of black stone, the star-chart of their world, the terrible, impatient power of the hand sheathed in dark metal.
"You have looked into the heart of the storm and returned," Kasai's thoughts were heavy with a gravity that dwarfed even the mountain's. "This 'Master' is a power beyond the scope of a mere coven. This is an ancient and terrible intelligence. And now, it is aware of you."
The implications were stark. The Master knew his operation in the Mire had been thwarted by an unknown entity aligned with Life. He would warn his other cells. He would search for the source of the interference. The time Ren had bought by shattering the Blight Heart had been spent on the Master's call.
"The Iron Peaks…" Ren said, pushing himself to a sitting position. "I have to go. Now."
"Yes," Kasai agreed. "The element of surprise, our greatest weapon, is gone. Speed is all that remains to you. But first, a final piece of business."
Kasai's ancient eyes turned to the still-unconscious form of Acolyte Theron. The listening post strategy was now defunct. The Master would never attempt that connection again. The prisoner was now only a liability.
"What do we do?" Ren asked, the moral weight of the question returning.
"His mind is a shattered fortress dedicated to nothingness. His body is a vessel for the blight," Kasai stated, his voice devoid of malice but filled with a deep, pragmatic sorrow. "He cannot be healed of a sickness he embraces as truth. He cannot be released to serve his Master. And you, a Guardian of Life, cannot take his."
The Great Turtle seemed to sigh, a deep, earthy rumble. "But the Mire has its own justice. A slow, patient, and final one. I will not kill him. I will… contain him. I will return him to the deep earth, to a sleep without dreams, where the life of the Weald and the purity of this grotto will hold him in stasis for a thousand years. He will harm no one again."
It was a fate perhaps stranger than death, a perfect and terrible prison. Ren watched as Kasai's magic, a deep, emerald-green light, enveloped the Acolyte. The living roots that bound him tightened, then drew him down, slowly and gently, into the mossy floor of the grotto. The earth closed over him without a trace, and the last remnant of the Hollow's presence in the Mire was gone, interred in a living tomb.
With the final loose end tied, a new sense of urgent purpose filled the grotto. "Your path lies east," Kasai said, turning his full attention to Ren. "Travel along the foothills of the Stone-Fangs. It is a longer route, but the blight has not yet touched the high ground. The air is cleaner there. When you see a river that runs red with the iron of the mountains, follow it to its source. That is your path into Kaelara's domain."
The Great Turtle dipped his head, and a small, smooth, moss-green stone, no bigger than Ren's thumb, detached from the edge of his ancient shell and floated across the water to hover before Ren. It glowed with a faint, steady green light.
"Take this," Kasai offered. "It is a piece of my own being, saturated with the life of the Mire. It will not grant you great power, but it will soothe the poison in your scar and mask your life-scent from lesser corrupted things. Let the Guardian of the Sky feel the strength of the deep earth when you meet."
Ren took the stone, its surface warm and humming with life. He bowed deeply. "I don't know how to thank you, Kasai."
"You have already done so, by saving this place and its Guardian," the turtle rumbled. "Now go. The storm gathers in the east. Fly before it, Little Serpent."
Ren gave one last look at the sacred, luminous grotto that had been his haven and his crucible. With Shiro coiled securely on his shoulder and the Mire-stone clutched in his hand, he passed through the waterfall and back into the swamp. But as he emerged from the edge of the Ashen Mire, leaving its rot and its victory behind him, the world felt different. The sun was rising, painting the sky in hues of orange and gold. He looked east, towards the distant, unseen peaks. He had a destination. He had a new ally. And he had an enemy who now knew his name. The journey was no longer a secret. It was a race.