Mafrolem, Yildriv, and several other accounts were apparently right about something: Parthra was incredibly impervious. Caen could not even so much as dent the bark with his daggers. He'd chipped off one of the blade's tips while testing this out for himself.

  The exterior of the tree was not smooth, however. It had pits and crevices and slight projections. Some were small enough to serve as handholds for a very determined person. Caen secured his bag and the vine he'd picked out and then began to climb.

  The breeze was gentle and the sunlight was soft. He didn't climb too often and thus wasn't as practiced as he would have liked, but there were more than enough places for him to securely position his hands and feet in the ancient bark. He moved slowly and very carefully.

  It was surprisingly easier than he'd been expecting, and he wondered why no one else had tried this. He'd been at this for well over an hour by his surmising. Maybe Flora practicians weren't usually inclined to risk this. But surely some were skilled enough to use plant matter to transport themselves this way.

  There was an open alcove with a ledge off to the side and up ahead. Caen made his way to it in good time and was soon crawling up and over the edge.

  He sat on the floor, breathing heavily, his muscles a bit sore. A quick Blood-healing spell took care of the soreness. He'd climbed for nearly two hours, but it hadn’t been strenuous, and he was fairly certain that he could repeat it fourteen more times. With breaks in between, of course.

  Caen turned to examine the layer behind, and it looked… very similar to the one he'd just left a layer below. He could tell immediately that this place and the previous one were identical to the extent that it had to have been intentional.

  Was it a clue perhaps? It was always possible that—

  His eye caught something glimmering deeper into the cavern. A piece of… metal. Caen approached it cautiously. This had been about the same area where he'd tested the invulnerability of Parthra.

  He picked up the piece of metal and could already feel a migraine on the left side of his head. This seemed suspiciously indistinguishable from the part of his dagger that had chipped off earlier. Only for the sake of making sure, did Caen take out the marred dagger. The chip fit perfectly.

  This is the same cavern I just left two hours ago.

  Really, what had he been expecting? But how had this happened? Planes were strange, but this was perhaps the strangest thing he'd ever experienced in one.

  He rolled back his memory of the climb, and since he knew no spells to help him identify if his mind had been tampered with, he fell back to just scanning for any oddities that hadn't stuck out at the time. Nothing. He'd climbed upwards for almost two hours and had arrived at the same spot.

  Caen dropped the chipped dagger on the floor, did some quick stretches, and climbed out of the alcove once more. The climb somehow felt even longer this time. He reached a completely new alcove with a ledge, which was positioned differently. He looked down at the one he'd left behind, confirming it was still there. As soon as he climbed into the new alcove, he saw his dagger sitting on the floor. He was more winded than he'd been the first time and had even worked up quite the sweat.

  He considered trying again, but it seemed obvious to him that there wouldn't be any avenue for cutting corners. Not this way at least.

  Caen performed some deep stretches and then went to find the stairs leading back to the ground floor on the first layer. He took them swiftly, walked past the people there, and went down the roots all the way to the stone path. Standing outside, he confirmed to himself that he was not stuck inside the tree and incapable of leaving. He just couldn't cheat.

  He returned to the second layer and settled down in the alcove to run through a few magical exercises. He focused mostly on Flora-oriented ones. Then he connected to the vine he'd found earlier. Once again, he was struck by the frailty of its Flora affinity, which was, of course, still a fair deal better than his. A distant part of Caen's mind noted that this vine and others like it possessed some of the smallest soul structures he'd ever had to Mimic.

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  Caen alternated between performing his exercises with his slightly boosted affinity and doing so in his abjection. It felt a little like magical weight training with proper form and technique.

  Once he was done, he could feel a bone-deep exhaustion. His sleep abeyance spell had not yet worn off, but it was very close to its expiration, and Caen was owing many hours of sleep.

  He connected to Parthra and was once again submerged in its intricate and vast soul structure. He took the time to commit it to memory. The moment he was able to reach Uncle Vai, he'd ask for them to revisit every instance of observation. Or better yet, he'd just boost his Dream-guarding affinity and learn that spell himself.

  A few hours later, Caen could hardly keep his eyes open. He grabbed his bag and left the alcove. He made his way to another enclosure he'd walked past before meeting Yildriv.

  Beyond it was a grotto that opened up to the outside. It was cavernous and had several plants hanging from the ceiling in interesting configurations that seemed intentional. The tables were occupied by people of all kinds. A dryad with red mottled skin stood behind a bar of whirly-patterned black wood with his back to the sunlight.

  Caen slid onto a stool there and greeted the barkeep, connecting to him.

  “Climber?” the dryad asked with a knowing smile.

  When Caen nodded, the dryad began fixing a drink.

  “I'm looking for a safe place to sleep. An inn, maybe?”

  The dryad laughed, and so did a few people within earshot. “You're clearly new here, Friend.”

  A woman turned around in her chair. “There are no inns in Parthra.”

  The dryad nodded. “You can sleep wherever you want. Parthra is always awake. Everywhere here is safe.” He slid a glass of clear juice to Caen. It smelled of lemon, and there were chunks of ice floating in it. “A gift of friendship. Drink.”

  Caen looked around and saw that several of those here were nursing drinks of their own while engaged in conversations or just quietly savoring their drinks.

  Caen tentatively took a small sip. There was just a tinge of spirits in it, but the drink was oddly refreshing with the bare hint of stimulative properties. He felt none of the negative effects that usually accompanied his consumption of alcohol. Without some of the passive augmentations he now possessed, even the sharp, stinging sensation from swallowing spirits would have been too much for him to handle. He nodded his thanks, complimented the dryad, and took another small sip.

  “You certainly seem like the doubtful type, if you don't mind me saying. But it is true. Harm to another is forbidden by Parthra.”

  “Forbidden?” Caen asked. “You mean that there are… penalties?"

  “No, no, no. Here, alright. Try to harm me,” the dryad said to him. “Use whatever weapon or tool you think will suffice.”

  Caen lifted an eyebrow. He glanced at the woman who was still watching him.

  “This will be entertaining,” she said. A few people on her table and the surrounding ones turned to watch.

  “You're serious?” Caen asked the dryad.

  The barkeep simply spread his arms apart as though displaying his vulnerability.

  With a portion of his attention on both their soul structures, Caen reached over to flick the dryad on the forehead hard.

  His hand froze just as he lifted it.

  Knowing that he was going to harm the barkeep in some trivial way was enough to cause his Binding magic affinity cluster to flare. On a more important note, Caen could not even move. He blinked in intrigued surprise, then retrieved his hand, finding he could move once again.

  A geas? He'd never been in a magical contract this strong before.

  “May I touch your forehead?” Caen asked the dryad.

  He smiled. “You may.”

  Caen poked the dryad's forehead very lightly. No reaction in his soul structure. No freezing up.

  With his hands just inches away, Caen made to flick the dryad's forehead. And once again, his body could not move, could not enact that action to harm.

  Fascinating, Caen thought.

  The dryad laughed heartily. A small cheer went around the grotto. The woman lifted her glass in Caen's direction. A few people walked over and patted Caen on the shoulder energetically.

  The dryad spread out his hands as he had before. “Welcome to Parthra, my friend.”