When the human boy heard the undead's call to rest, he seized his younger brother's hand.
He was not clever, so he did not have many grand ideas. He was neither brave nor especially capable.
He had received no blessing of Plane Power at birth, nor had the world poured extra resources into him. There was nothing remarkable about him.
He was an ordinary boy from a tribe.
But now it was his turn to choose. He looked at the chips of ice on the ground and tightened his grip on the sword in his right hand.
"I'm going to the Bone Burial Ground."
"Dad died at the hands of the undead. So did our chief, who was always good to us. Mom did too. The hunting captain said the best hunters are always brave."
"If planting this sword in the Bone Burial Ground will kill those undead, then I'm going."
His younger brother gripped his hand.
"Then I'm coming with you."
Their decision was neither a rational assessment of their predicament nor an impulsive act born of emotion. It was the uneasy defiance of two powerless people in the Everwinter Era, and the only thing they could do.
It was a reckless decision, with no thought for what came after. A vast amount of Plane Power gathered around the brothers.
Locke watched them all the while.
"Creating a Plane's Child requires complex Divination magic and a precise grasp of the situation. It takes decades of control. I've seen methods like that on the Mage Plane."
"But if you follow a world's existing logic, you can quickly select a Plane's Child. You only need to work with the way that world develops."
"When someone native to the world chooses to shoulder the responsibilities of a Plane's Child, Plane Power gathers