God’s Tree

They flew for days.

Thae'Zirak glided across the sky with relentless grace, his wings carving through mist and fading sunlight. Below them, the land transformed—no longer barren, but vibrant and unsettling. Life had returned, but not gently.

Fields of silver grass shimmered under a sky too bright. Trees twisted with golden leaves rose like monuments. Rivers gleamed with liquid light. It was beautiful, but wrong—as if nature had become too aware of itself.

Kaelred noticed it first. "This place… it wants to be seen."

Argolaith didn't reply, but the feeling was mutual. The land beneath them felt like it was watching. As if the second tree was no longer calling him forward—

It was waiting.

By the sixth day, they could see it clearly.

The second tree.

It pierced the clouds like a living tower. Its bark was a deep obsidian laced with faint, green-gold light, and its branches spiraled outward in impossible arcs, reaching far across the sky like outstretched arms.

At its base lay a vast clearing ringed with ancient stone pillars, half-buried in roots thicker than houses. No wind touched the space around the tree. No birds sang.

Only silence.

Thae'Zirak circled once and then descended slowly. As his talons met the ground, the roots parted just enough to grant them entry.

Kaelred slid off his back, eyes wide. "Is it just me, or does this thing feel even bigger from the ground?"

Argolaith said nothing.

The seed in his chest burned softly, like a heartbeat just beneath the skin.

The second tree was here.

And it was ready.

As Argolaith stepped beyond the ring of roots, the air thickened around him. The others tried to follow—but the roots coiled in front of them, blocking their path.

Kaelred hissed, stepping back. "Okay. Not invited. Got it."

Malakar folded his arms. "The tree will test him alone."

Argolaith kept moving.

He passed beneath the tree's lowest branches and entered a grove filled with strange light. The bark here shimmered with symbols older than language, etched by time itself.

And there, atop a smooth slab of root-carved stone, sat a gleaming pile of treasures.

Weapons.

Books.Scrolls.

Rings.

Artifacts pulsing with power.

A sword that radiated heat like a small sun.

A staff humming with arcane knowledge.

A vial of glowing liquid labeled Elixir of Eternal Vitality.

Gold. So much gold.

And at the center of it all:

A single object pulsing with the same light as the seed in his chest.

A fruit.

Round. Perfect.

Veins of green glowing from within.

The lifeblood.

The tree's voice entered his mind, clear and steady:

"Take what is yours. But know this: You may take more. As much as you desire.

But only what is freely chosen will remain. The rest will mark you."

Argolaith approached the treasure slowly.

He could feel the magic radiating from every item.

The sword—burning with power.

The staff—heavy with forbidden knowledge.

The elixir—offering immortality.

But the fruit…

It pulsed with familiarity. With promise.

He reached toward it—then stopped.

His gaze moved to the staff.

What could he learn with it?

What truths could it unlock?

The sword—how many battles could be ended with one swing?

His hand hovered over the gold.

With it, he could buy armies. Change kingdoms.

And still—

The fruit waited.

"Choose," the tree whispered. "And be judged."

Argolaith closed his eyes.

The temptation wasn't loud.

It was quiet.

Seductive.

Inviting.

But that was the danger.

He opened his eyes again and looked at the pile.

And then, deliberately,

He reached past the gold,

Past the artifacts,

Past the power—

And took only the fruit.

The moment his fingers touched it, the rest of the treasure ignited.

Not with fire—

With roots.

The vines shot upward, consuming the pile in an instant. The weapons cracked, the scrolls crumbled, the gold turned to dust.

The tree's voice rumbled within him.

"You are not without desire. But you are not ruled by it."

The roots beneath his feet pulsed. The bark behind him shifted—

And opened.

Light poured through.

The path to the heart of the tree.

When Argolaith stepped back through the roots, Kaelred let out a long breath.

"You were in there a while. Did it try to bribe you with your own personal kingdom or something?"

Argolaith held up the fruit. "It tried."

Malakar's gaze narrowed slightly. "And you refused."

Argolaith gave a faint nod. "It wasn't mine to take."

Thae'Zirak rumbled low with approval. "Then you passed. The second tree sees you now."

Kaelred threw his hands up. "Okay. Cool. Can we now get to the part where the tree just hands over the lifeblood and sends us on our way?"

Argolaith smirked, but said nothing.

He knew better.

The tree had more to test.

And greed was only the beginning.

The path that opened after the second trial wound deep beneath the roots of the second tree. The others followed now—Kaelred with a blade in each hand, Malakar silent and sharp-eyed, and Thae'Zirak walking behind them with wings tucked and head lowered to fit through the expanding, living corridor of bark and stone.

The deeper they went, the more the air shifted. The golden-green light of the tree's magic grew dimmer, cooler. The pulse from the lifeblood fruit in Argolaith's hand faded with each step.

Kaelred glanced around. "This feels like we're walking into the tree's spine."

Malakar's violet flames flickered. "No. This is its heart."

Argolaith said nothing. He could feel the weight of what was coming before they reached it.

Something in the seed pulsed harder—resistance. Hesitation.

As if it knew what he would be asked to do.

They stepped into a chamber unlike any other.

No light.

No branches.

Only a smooth circle of blackened rootwood, and at the center—a pedestal made from intertwined thorns.

No glow came from above.

No warmth from the tree's presence.

This place was quiet.

Still.

And on the pedestal sat nothing at all.

Kaelred frowned. "Is this… a trial?"

The ground trembled slightly. Then the voice returned—

No longer distant.

It was inside Argolaith now.

"You carry the fruit of the second trial. You passed by refusing what was not yours. But now…"

"What will you give away… even when it is?"

Argolaith stepped toward the pedestal slowly. The fruit pulsed faintly in his palm.

Malakar watched, unmoving.

Kaelred's brows drew together. "Wait. They're asking you to give it up?"

Argolaith nodded. "The Trial of Sacrifice."

Kaelred looked stunned. "But that's—wasn't the fruit the reward? It's what we came here for."

Malakar's voice was calm. "And that is why it must be given."

Argolaith approached the pedestal.

The thorns twisted, opening slightly to reveal a cradle of vine and bark—just big enough for the fruit.

He looked down at it in his hand.

So small.

So warm.

So full of life.

He had earned it.

Chosen it.

Carried it.

But the tree asked for more than strength.

It asked for understanding.

With no words, no ceremony, Argolaith reached forward—

And placed the fruit in the cradle of thorns.

The moment his hand let go—

The light from the fruit flared, then vanished.

The ground rumbled.

Roots retracted.

Thorns softened.

The dark grove shimmered with faint strands of green light.

And then—

A shape rose from the center of the pedestal.

A leaf, long and jagged, wrapped in bark and glowing with soft, golden veins.

Argolaith stepped forward and picked it up.

It was warm. But not alive.

Not the lifeblood.

A token. A symbol.

A sign that he had passed.

The tree whispered once more:

"The lifeblood cannot be claimed by one who fears loss. You gave what you earned. Now you are one step closer."

Argolaith turned away from the pedestal, the glowing leaf tucked inside his cloak.

Kaelred looked baffled. "So let me get this straight… You get the thing we came here for. Then you just hand it back. And the tree says, 'Good job?'"

Argolaith smiled faintly. "Something like that."

Kaelred shook his head. "Trees are weird."

Malakar stepped beside Argolaith. "This was never about the fruit. It was about whether you could give it away."

Argolaith exhaled slowly. The weight in his chest lifted.

The second tree still called.

But now the call was deeper. Closer.

Three trials.

Two passed.

One remained.

And now, they would see if he could face what waited next.