Hearth Tree

Makdiba 27 December 1997 Ey 
Life is an odd thing in this world, but I have no little excuse to complain about that by now. Today I celebrate my first decade on Sharitarn, ten years ago I was caught by the Vortex and transported to this Universe. Back home I used to fix refrigerators and deliver pizzas to get by, had no hope to enter University, not much interest either I guess. Military was and option in my mind still, but not a plan exactly.
The year about to end them was 1987, I was 20 years old. Became a cop or a soldier where the worse case scenarios becoming real in my mind at the time. Better than end up as a beggar on the streets, or choose crime as a carrier.
Then I had to survive as a lawless, killing other sewer rats like myself for stay alive. No rules. Until a luck moment when another Earthling offered me a hand. Eduard of Rashgeofar, former navy captain transported by the Vortex to Sharitarn in the Earthling year of 1611. Transformed into undead a couple of years later.
Eduard though me how to survive on Sharitarn as a mercenary, and presented me to the wild sigrax who tested my magic potential and accepted me as apprentice. A sort of slavery with a perspective of improvement into masterhood. I cannot complain, I do learned enough magic to became a desirable addition to most small or medium sized State Cities. So far I wasn’t able to buy myself citizenship, but I do have a cosy loft in the better half of Makdiba Foreigner Sector paid in advance for the next year.
Funny how things are around here. Makdiba allows women to enter their military, what in this case is being an active part of Warrior Caste, but only in special circumstances. Like being daughters of national heroes. Those girls cannot be foot soldiers, just intelligence agents, and in some cases they ascend to command. However they do get more or less the same combat training men get, although a bit less intensive. Despite this training they are accompanied by male guards in the same circumstances women with no training at all would be, protocol demands it.
Perhaps even stranger is that: Makdiba has no law against necromancy, and no particular problem with undeads. And it is theoretically a sovereign state city, fully entitle to keep its own laws. However, priest- knights conduce searches for undeads and necromancers very openly in this city. Members of a foreigner religious order, hunt and sometimes kill local citizens for being an undeads, what is a crime under the laws of their city but not under the laws of Makdiba. Yet, Makdiba tolerates it without protest most the time.
From that collection of contradictions came my job.
I am a magical bodyguard for a high military lady who cannot be properly guarded by her own caste brothers. She cannot be properly guarded by them, because her job is find the undead communities living on Makdiba, and the necromancers, and keep them under vigilance. Not to kill or arrest anyone, but to be sure that they will not be caught by the Holly Knights of Micula.
Last night she was visiting a rich merchant who had a guest. An pale skinned elf musician from Erevi. The last part don’t say something, all elves I even met presented themselves as “from Erevi” and I have from good authority that more than half of them never set a foot on Elven City! Regardless, was a social visit, the kind of thing high castes force each other to endure from time to time for no reasons, with smiles on their faces. I suppose some times they even enjoy it.
I tough the elf was very ‘elvish’ in his artistic persona. Perhaps a smuggler or a thief of some sort. Worse case scenario, could be a spy.
Divination spells aren’t my strong side, but even common men know all elves carry some magic in their blood. I felt that, didn’t associated with necromancy until Lady Kealabdra ask specifically, then got the impression that there was no evidence of necromantic spells performed recently in the house. Then she asked me to evoke shadows and we walked again inside the good merchant house, this time as furtive invaders.
I am a shadow sigrax, a very rare specialist. No magical Way is half as good as mine when it comes to move unnoticed, and leave no trace.
Once we reached the room where the musician was, my client pointed to the hexagonal winter garden in the middle of the room and asked me to eliminate any magic barriers or illusions that could be blocking our perception.
_The person who did the spell, if there is one in place, is likely to notice it is gone. Chances are it will even feel me messing with the work as soon as I do that.
_No problem. That’s precisely what I want, lets the undead know he must be more careful.
I do not have much anti-magic tools in my portfolio, because shadow mages seldom need them. Anti-magic interfere with spells, an anti-mage would probably be able to temporarily cancel the illusion in the winter garden. Since Shadow Follower’s whole deal is to push things into non-existence, regardless if they are magical or not, invest in anti-magic end up being too redundant for us, most the time.
There was definitely something up there, preventing people from see the winter garden true content. Unfortunately the true content we could not see was exactly identical to the illusion hiding it.
I said so, disappointed.
_No, not identical. Can’t you see that vase?
_It was there before, wasn’t it?
No, it was not. Paying more attention to it I notices the plant in that vase was different from all others. However, strangest than the plant was a wood box behind it. The base of this box was detached from it, bellow the squared vase.
My client closed the box, and took it with her. The moment she lift the strange black bonsai inside the box an inhuman cry came from somewhere nearby.
We did not had to fight our way out, but the elf almost felt on us, jumping from a roof in the narrow street we where about to enter. His eyes glowed dark red, and his hands where deformed into long claws. We stepped away from him, and he passed us, running back to his room at the merchant’s house.
_Keep the spell, until we reach your house. He will feel the location of this tree in the instant you cancel the shadow clock.
_You say we are going to MY house?
_I need to discuss something with this fellow, and conduce that discussion in my house at Warrior Caste sector would make it official matter. Is better for Makdiba is that does not reach official channels.
_I am not sure if suits have angry vampire bards reaching my home, as non-official as this visit may be. Besides, why an elf would want to be a vampire anyway? They already live forever! Or at very least they live for absurdly long times!!
_Most elves don’t have timeless existences, only the high nobles of Erevi. I am sure those who don’t live indefinitely don’t consider the natural existence they actually have “absurdly long”. We certainly would not see things that way if we had 9 thousand years to live, and some of our neighbours had for ever. It does not matter, of course, timeless existence is hardly the only reason for a person choose to became a vampire, and as you well know not all vampires had a choice in the first place.
_True. What about we rent a room at some tavern, instead of waiting for this musician in my home?
_No. I want privacy, and if a fight happens I prefer to be in a place prepared for it. Knowing you, I am sure your home has all sorts of magical defences. And a scape route available.
_To escape one vampire?
_No. To escape his congregation, if he has already formed one. This plant is only carried by religious vampires, priests of some sort. Find one in our city means their church has plans to open secret temples here, what goes directly against Makdiba interest at the moment.
We waited three days and two nights before the blood thirsty gardener appear at my door. The plant had to be left in the open all night, in my balcony, and during this time we kept vigilance. During the day the plant would stay hidden in a closed, locked in its box. Because sunlight would burn it to ashes.
There was at least seven vampires surrounding the building that night. Despite that conversation was surprisingly polite, and ended without fight.
The elf left my loft caring his tinny three, and his religious congregation left Makdiba the night before that. Promising never come back.
Since their secret was compromised before they had chance to stablish a strong position in the community the costs of stay and fight where too high. The rewards not good enough.
That end is anticlimactic, I admit. Despite that I told you the whole case to provide you context. If I had just told you the Hearth Tree is a secret plant that feeds on vampire blood and is sacred for some of those undeads, would be impossible to convince you that is a religious secret. Since I am the one telling the history, and I am no vampire.

Hearth Tree:

Those plants are born from round seeds blue and purpure, as large as a human tooth. They need magic rituals and blood to sprout on a soil prepared with flour of bones of intelligent creatures, preferable magic used voluntarily sacrificed whit this very purpose. The plant drinks vampire blood diluted in two parts of water every night. In some special occasions it must be given larger quantities of blood, pure. After reach one and a half meter it should be transplanted from the vase to the ground, but before that is better to have the Hearth Tree on a box and move it. Because it needs to be under the stars and the moon to grow stronger, and it cannot be touched by the sun.
They are transplanted permanently to place only after at least one thousand years travelling. Usually that place is an underground cave where they will be protected against sunlight for ever.
All parts of those trees provide powerful magical advantages related to vampirism. The most important one for the vampires is in the oil extracted from the seeds.
Undeads on Sharitarn do not reproduce, they don’t “make others” of their own kind. Instead all “models” of undead are made by magic users who follow the Way of Necromancy. Some undeads are necromancers themselves, but most are not. As happens with living species of intelligent beings among undeads most individuals have no magic potential to develop in any magical Way.
The transformation into undead usually comes with some powers similar to magic. Not the power of create undeads, usually.
However, with the oil extracted from a Hearth Three is possible for a magic user follower of any Way, and even for a mere alchemist, to create a passion that will transform any living person who drinks it into vampire.

Why it Matters so Much? 

To give you a brief resume of Vampire History, the initial vampires are created by an evil monster in some dark hell far bellow Sharitarn continents. Originally they would spread, seduce, conquer, and slave all living species on Sharitarn: acting like the puppet strings for their master. Didn’t worked, the Mage’s Brotherhood realized what was going one whit the help of some powerful undead mages, and stopped the invasion.
After some negotiation the necromances on Sharitarn added the vampires to their portfolios. Allowing the powerful monster who invented the first vampires to keep control over his original creations. I am not sure about the details, but there is limits for both sides in that treaty.
The cult around the Hearth Trees is a resent third player in this game. No one knows what they intend to do, but they are growing as an independent culture. Independent and organic as no undead community ever was. That scare a lot of people, as you should expect.