God’s Tree

The sky darkened into an endless sheet of violet, and the land below turned to shadows and jagged spires.

Thae'Zirak flew with ease, each wingbeat strong and graceful. For hours they had soared, the dragon hybrid showing no signs of fatigue, but the air had begun to shift.

Subtle at first—

Then undeniable.

The wind was changing.

Argolaith felt it like a warning crawling up his spine. The seed of memory inside his cloak pulsed slowly, its rhythm becoming erratic, as if sensing something wrong.

Malakar turned his head, the violet flame in his skull flickering. "The air ahead is… not natural."

Kaelred tightened his grip around Thae'Zirak's plated back. "I don't like the sound of that."

Thae'Zirak narrowed his golden eyes. "Something is interfering."

As they climbed higher, the wind began to scream.

Not howl.

Not whistle.

Scream.

Invisible currents struck them with force, nearly knocking Kaelred off. Sparks of crimson and green light crackled through the clouds ahead, and strange black arcs of energy slashed across the sky like the claws of something ancient and unseen.

Argolaith's eyes narrowed. "Is this Hollowed magic?"

Thae'Zirak's wings strained as he pulled up sharply. "No. This is older."

Malakar's voice was flat. "A barrier. Not one made by mortals."

Kaelred groaned as he ducked a streak of warping air. "So what now? Do we fly through it? Try our luck?"

Thae'Zirak growled. "If I fly into that storm, I will not come out whole. And you…" he looked back at Argolaith, "You will be taken from me."

Argolaith's grip tightened. The second tree's call was still there—louder now, aching in his ribs. But the sky had turned against them.

This was not just a storm.

It was a wall.

"We're going down," Thae'Zirak said suddenly, voice like iron.

Without waiting for a reply, he folded his wings halfway and angled sharply, plunging toward the broken earth below.

Wind screamed louder, the magical storm clawing at their backs.

Kaelred swore, clinging tightly to the nearest ridge of armored scale. "I hate this! I hate this! I hate—"

A flash of red lightning exploded in the sky behind them, barely missing the tip of Thae'Zirak's tail.

The ground rushed up fast.

Argolaith remained calm, his eyes fixed forward. He could feel it—the tree was just beyond that wall.

But not yet.

Not yet.

Thae'Zirak landed hard, kicking up dust and shattered stone as his claws dug into the ground.

They were in a ravine, narrow and crooked, hemmed in by cliffs of blackened rock and twisted roots. The sky above flickered with sickly green lightning, but the barrier's edge was miles overhead.

Argolaith slid off first, his boots hitting the ground in silence.

Kaelred followed, staggering slightly. "I have new respect for gravity. Never again."

Malakar landed beside them with a slow, weightless drop, robes fluttering.

Thae'Zirak tucked his wings in and exhaled a cloud of steam. "Whatever magic guards your tree… it will not allow passage by air."

Argolaith looked back up at the storm. "Then we go on foot."

Kaelred let out a pained laugh. "You mean run, don't you?"

Argolaith gave him a faint grin. "You know me well."

Malakar stepped closer to the ravine wall, pressing one skeletal hand against the dark stone. "This isn't just a shield. It's alive. Not Hollowed, not divine. Something in between."

Argolaith turned his gaze south. "The tree doesn't want help from above. It wants us to reach it the hard way."

Thae'Zirak lowered his massive head, golden eyes thoughtful. "Then it is testing you. As all the great roots once did."

Kaelred groaned, already regretting the next phase of their journey. "So let me get this straight. We just flew thousands of miles only to crash into a magical wall made of nightmare weather and ancient tree magic… and now we're walking again?"

Argolaith looked over his shoulder. "Running."

Kaelred muttered, "I really should've stayed in that village."

Argolaith knelt for a moment, resting one hand on the stone. He could feel it pulsing beneath his fingers—

The path was there, winding through the earth, far beneath the storm wall.

It would be slow.

Treacherous.

But it was the only way in.

He stood. "We camp here for a few hours. Then we move."

Malakar nodded once. "I will watch the storm."

Thae'Zirak stepped back, curling his wings close to his body. "Call when you are ready. I cannot pass the wall, but I can carry you when it falls."

Argolaith gave him a nod of thanks.

And as the group settled into the broken earth below the storm, the wind howled above them—reminding them of the power they had yet to face.

The air beneath the barrier was thick—not just with magic, but with age.

Argolaith stood at the edge of a narrow fissure in the stone, staring into the earth where the second tree's presence pulsed faintly, hidden below the storm-wrapped sky. The others stood close behind, silent for now.

They had rested only a few hours. Enough for their bodies to recover, but not enough to ease the weight pressing down on them. The barrier above still churned and crackled, a writhing dome of thunder and green fire.

There was only one way forward.

Down.

Argolaith led the way, sliding down a steep slope of shale and dust, the path twisting into a narrow tunnel where light barely reached.

Malakar followed without a sound, his violet eyes glowing faintly in the gloom.

Kaelred came last, blades drawn, muttering under his breath. "If this tunnel collapses, I just want it known that I voted for flying the whole way."

The air in the tunnel was dry, but it carried a strange scent—like old roots and burnt iron, a fusion of something alive and something forgotten.

The farther they went, the more twisted the stone became. The walls curled in strange spirals, and veins of glowing green magic pulsed through the rock like they were flowing with lifeblood.

Argolaith placed a hand on the wall once. The tree's pulse answered his touch—stronger now, closer.

But not welcoming.

Not yet.

The tunnel widened into a vast subterranean cavern, ceiling lost in shadow, the floor littered with broken statues and moss-covered stone tablets.

Some of the figures had humanoid shapes. Others did not.

Malakar studied the carvings silently. "These ruins predate even the Dominion. This was a place of the root-born."

Kaelred frowned. "Root-born?"

"The first guardians of the trees," Malakar explained. "Chosen long before mortals walked the world."

Kaelred shivered. "They didn't leave much behind, did they?"

Argolaith's eyes swept the cavern. "Maybe they didn't need to."

He stepped forward—

And the cavern pulsed.

A sound, low and rhythmic, echoed from deep beneath the ground.

Not drums.

Heartbeats.

From the shadows across the chamber, stone cracked.

A statue shifted.

No—it moved.

The creature rose slowly, shedding dust and moss. It was massive, nearly three times Argolaith's height, shaped like a golem but etched with bark-like grooves and veins of green light that pulsed in time with the tree's rhythm.

Its face was a hollow mask, and its limbs ended in jagged roots sharpened to points.

Kaelred took a step back. "Why is everything ancient and enormous?"

Malakar didn't blink. "Because you are too small."

The guardian raised its head, a voice like creaking wood echoing through the chamber.

"You carry the seed. But you are not yet chosen."

Argolaith stepped forward. "Then what do I need to do?"

The guardian's chest pulsed with green fire.

"Prove you are not hollow."

The guardian moved.

Faster than stone should move, it lunged—its root-arm crashing toward Argolaith like a falling tree.

Argolaith rolled beneath the strike, drawing his sword in a single motion. The blade shimmered with golden light as it cleaved through the guardian's limb—

Only for the severed piece to writhe and regrow.

Kaelred jumped aside as roots burst from the floor, reaching for his legs. "Okay! No thank you!"

Malakar raised a hand, blasting the encroaching tendrils with violet flame, forcing them to wither. "It regenerates through the tree's breath. It must be severed from the source!"

Argolaith dodged another strike and leapt forward—driving his blade deep into the guardian's chest where the green light pulsed strongest.

The sword sank deep—

And the light began to dim.

The guardian staggered, reaching once… then collapsed to its knees.

Argolaith pulled the blade free, his breath steady.

"Was that enough?" he asked.

The heartbeat below the chamber quickened.

The ground trembled.

From the center of the cavern, a stone dais rose, and resting atop it—a sliver of bark, ancient and golden, etched with the same runes that covered the guardian's body.

Malakar stepped forward, watching it closely. "Another fragment of the tree."

Kaelred exhaled. "Please tell me it doesn't bite."

Argolaith approached the bark.

As his hand closed around it, the bark dissolved into green light, and the seed in his cloak flared.

It wasn't lifeblood.

Not yet.

But it was recognition.

The tree had seen him.

And it was waiting.