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In preparation for the upcoming healing raids his clan would begin, right after the harvest, Ragnar had spent considerable time out at Mistfruit, planning their journey. He had visited Homewood and taken part in social events and celebrations. He had bonded with his familiar. All of these things, Ragnar considered essential growth, and now, as the season came to an end, he felt prepared to take the next step in his own magical journey.

Becoming an Adept would be the last step in his preparations for the raids. With his discovery and exploration of Mistfruit, he would become one of the most important figures in the upcoming raid, and if it went well... his position within the clan would rise to a new and unprecedented high.

He would need all of the power he could accumulate for himself before this trip. He would need to appear strong and be strong, leaving no room for doubt or error.

Ragnar made his way to the Grandfather Tree, as he had countless times before in his life. He bowed before the great tree and looked up into its powerful branches. "Grandfather, it is me," he said, searching the trees for some sign or answer. "I have served you well my entire life, and now I come to you, ready for your next gift. I believe it is my destiny to lead my clan to victory in our raids. We will heal Mistfruit and we will drive our enemies from the land. I ask for your blessing and your strength, ahead of this endeavor, to ensure us the success we deserve as your children."

Their little spot in the Barrens hadn't changed much since Ragnar's childhood, and yet in many ways, it was completely different. They had expanded their territory, for one, to accommodate newcomers and the growing patch of plant life that had been cultivated there. Botanics, Atmos, Aqua, Solar... all gifts had a hand in building up this little spot of life in the broken Barrens, and as more families had come, the area that they were able to cultivate had grown.

Once again moving on gangly little legs, Ragnar found himself prancing down a row of shelters that had been built for the collection of families living together in this spot. It was, weirdly, devoid of sound and activity, but he knew where he would go. Tripping over himself, he stumbled into the shelter that had been his parents', knowing he would find them there after a long day of cultivation.

"Ragnar," his father said upon seeing him. "Why were you not in the fields? There is much to learn."

Ragnar made his way farther into the shelter, taking in this once-familiar scene of his parents at home. Both were dead now, gone in the service of the Grandfather. But he was anything but nostalgic. He forged ahead.

"I will not be a farmer, father," he said, setting his ears. These were words he'd never said out loud to his parents before, had never thought to be before they'd died. They had been so certain. "I will be a warrior."

"Ragnar, the land is where our responsibilities lie. This is how we serve the Grandfather, how you will serve the Grandfather," said the older noul.

"Father, there is more to serving the Grandfather than tending a plot of land," Ragnar responded, more forcefully this time, unwilling to let the matter rest. "I can heal the land while also having ambition, power. The Grandfather favors me, we know this. He will favor me more when I heal this land and also rid it of evil and predators. He will help me achieve great power."

"Ragnar... no. This land is our land. You must protect it, not set your sights beyond your reach. You must be careful."

At this, Ragnar scoffed. He wished he could draw himself up to his full height, to look down at his father and tell him he had always been wrong. There was much beyond their corner of the Barrens, much to be found, much to heal. And just as much, there was a scourge of predators in this land that needed to be dealt with. There was more honor in that than simple farming. But his father had always disagreed with the warriors of their clan, preferring instead to keep his head buried in his own plot.

"I will not be careful," Ragnar said finally. "I will be strong. I will be remembered."

He turned and walked out of the shelter in a quiet rage. Without realizing it, he turned and walked down the row of shelters to the last one, a small and decrepit one. Creepy. He ducked his head inside, noticing the clan's reclusive seer huddled in the corner, in the dark.

"Seer," he said, stepping closer. Nobody knew what the seer really saw, or how he did it. Some quiet skeptics thought it was all a lie. But Ragnar believed it. "I would like to know, will I achieve the power I seek?"

The wizened old noul turned to him with sightless eyes. "You ought not ask me these questions in a dream, young Ragnar," he wheezed.

Ragnar shrugged, and then he left.