Journal of Lowri Havard

Day 1 <i>Torek Prout</>. That is what we Druids—and Luella most of all—have called the Hermetic researchers for as long as I’ve lived. Yet here I stand, accompanying one Percival Hallewell on his expedition into the Realms. Luella requested me specifically as the nature of his study involves the mycorrhizal network. Mushrooms. Spyrys, geist, I have cooked with these at the Inn. But never the <i>poder</>. While safe to eat in moderation once cooked, it must be cracked like a nut with a tool forged of iron, and delicately so as to prevent the outpouring of maddening spores. I have not seen anyone turn poder-mad, and I thank my refusal to cook them for that. Yet this is the species Percival wishes to study. I am tentative. Nevertheless, Percival is not what I thought. Luella depicted him as invasive, stubborn, conceited. A man obsessed with results and not the journey, just like the others. Yet, as I write, he places his equipment with cautious, soft hands. He has asked me many questions and listened to my many answers. He is not dismissive of our rituals and ways. Perhaps I have found the only good Hermetic.

Day 2 Even as Percival examines the poder mushrooms, there is a delicacy in his fingertips. He did not immediately pluck them—much to my surprise—though he warns he must soon do so. I’ve requested he only take what is necessary and not deplete the cluster, a request he seems favourable to. His many questions continue. ‘Lowri, are these edible or poisonous?’ ‘Neither,’ I replied. ‘They are Fae given.’ ‘And what does that mean?’ ‘That it is best not consumed until the Fae explain their gift.’ ‘And what if I’m able to explain the gift on their behalf?’ I did not know what to say to such a hypothetical. ‘Impossible.’ There was a challenge in his next smile. ‘The Fae are not the sole storytellers of these Realms, Lowri.’ I recognised then that it is obsession that guides his delicacy, not reverence. And yet…

Day 6 Percy and I have made great discoveries. For Percy, it is that he detected Pale Lodestone within the mycelium of the poder. For me, it is that Percy has dimples when he laughs. ‘Do you know what this means, Lowri?’ I did not, and I’m still uncertain that I do now. ‘Mushrooms share an interconnectedness through the mycorrhizal network even on Earth, but the network of hyphae in these Realms is far more complex. If this trace amount of Lodestone is real, this could mean that Realmic mushrooms are interconnected not just within one Realm, but across many!’ ‘All Fae mushrooms?’ I couldn’t help but ask. ‘Quite possibly, but the poder most of all. To think of the power such small fungi hold…’ Those were his last words on the thought before he returned to his research. He has collected more samples of other mushrooms now. Disrupted more clusters. Broken Fae circles. But I cannot shake how his eyes sparkle as he plucks them. I find myself aiding in his foraging despite my better judgement.

Day 10 There has been a change in Percy. Small, but detectable. He speaks to me less now, engulfed forever in his notes and foraging. When he does speak, it is only of this power that he believes he has found. A new magick, he believes it to be. But Druids know that no magick is new, only uncovered. ‘You say the poder is Fae given, yes?’ He fixates on that term now. I wish I had never spoken it. ‘Lowri, for years your people have performed rituals passed down from the Fae in search of ancient magicks. What if the spores of the poder were no different? Only a shortcut this time. What if we were to break the shells? Forego the iron tools? We could hold unchallenged power from the soil of the very Realms themselves.’ I know not if what he claims is true, but I want it to be. For him. Yet, I fear discarding the iron. Poder-mad, I will not become. <i>He</> will not become.

Day 14 The poder cluster is now depleted. What’s worse, I caught Percy breaking open a poder with his delicate, bare hands. He breathed in the spores. Hungry. As if this were not his first time. The last of the cluster, still in its shell, he held out to me. ‘Fair Lowri, break with me. See what power awaits. I’ve seen it, Lowri! The mycorrhizal network, it’s tangible, a place we can go. At its centre awaits the gifts of a long-forgotten Elder. He has shared with me his name, Lowri. Told me of his power. We could become <i>one</> with the Realms, Lowri. Become Realm Spirits ourselves, stewards of Fae worlds. He calls to us. He wants this for us, Lowri. You have only but to break the shell.’ Shocked, I knew not how to respond. To become a Realm Spirit… I took the poder. His words as I walked away still echo. ‘The whole of the mycorrhizal network, like a million hands intertwined. And all of those, in the palm of our hands.’ Those delicate hands… Perhaps they could be intertwined with mine. I have only to break the shell.