God’s Tree

The forest thinned gradually, like breath exhaled after holding for too long.

The trees no longer loomed as closely together, and the twisted roots that once formed endless knots in their path began to ease into more familiar formations—broad trunks, soft patches of moss, and crickets chirping in the distance.

It was subtle, but Argolaith felt it in his bones.

They were close.

The Forsaken Forest still reached far in every direction, but now, off in the distance—blurred by morning mist and streaks of drifting cloud—stood the jagged outline of a mountain.

The very same mountain where everything had begun.

Kaelred saw it too.

He slowed, narrowing his golden eyes toward the horizon. "That's… the one, isn't it?"

Argolaith stepped beside him, staring at the familiar peak. It jutted from the earth like a broken tooth, its flanks covered in ancient stone and dying grass, a remnant of trials passed and memories forged in blood.

"Yeah," Argolaith murmured. "That's where we met."

Thae'Zirak followed their gaze. "You speak of the mountain where the first tree called to you?"

"No," Argolaith said. "Further down the slope—there's a ruin. It was peaceful before the guardian primordial beast had gotten to the ruins."

He glanced at Kaelred. "That's where we crossed paths. Neither of us were supposed to be there, but we were. And everything changed after that."

Kaelred scoffed lightly. "Changed is one word for it i'd say."

Malakar looked at the peak, his violet flames flickering gently. "You wish to return?"

Argolaith nodded. "I want to go over the mountain. Visit the ruins. I want to see what's left."

"We won't make it before sundown," Thae'Zirak said.

"We won't make it in two days," Kaelred added, shading his eyes. "It's still a few hundred miles out."

Argolaith didn't argue.

He simply said, "We'll get there. We're only a thousand miles out from Seminah now. We have time."

The land beneath their feet grew easier to walk—less twisted, more familiar. The forest here didn't fight them. In some strange way, it seemed to acknowledge their presence now. Vines bent away. Moss quieted. Even the wind didn't resist.

Naruul kept to the back, his wings half-folded, his many eyes fixed on the distant mountain.

"I do not like that place," he murmured.

Kaelred turned. "You don't like the mountain either?"

"It is not hatred. It is… memory. The beasts of the forest once circled that place. A power was drawn there. Something ancient. Something bound."

Thae'Zirak nodded. "I remember the mountain. I passed near it in my younger years. But I did not climb it. Even in my arrogance, I chose not to wake what sleeps beneath."

Argolaith didn't respond.

His eyes never left the distant peak.

They made camp on a ridge just before sunset, where the forest broke open enough to allow a view of the horizon. The mountain stood tall, shadowed by clouds, its slopes painted in fading gold by the sun.

Argolaith cooked in silence, firelight dancing over his blade as he carved strips of spiced war beast meat and laid them in a pan to sizzle. He added ghostroot slices and ironleaf, letting the oils bloom and fill the air with a bold, wild aroma.

Kaelred sat beside him, legs stretched.

"You really want to see those ruins again?" he asked.

"I do," Argolaith said simply.

Kaelred leaned back and stared up at the first stars peeking through the canopy. "Then we'll go. Over that cursed mountain. One more time."

Malakar's shadowy form leaned near the fire, silent, reflective.

Thae'Zirak curled beside a boulder, claws folded beneath his scaled limbs.

And Naruul, wings tucked tightly to his body, watched the sky.

"The mountain remembers you both," the Saint Beast said softly. "And memory carries weight."

Argolaith looked toward the ruins he could not yet see—but could feel.

He smiled, faintly.

"I'll carry it anyway."

The morning mist clung low to the ground as the group pressed forward, each step taking them closer to the mountain that loomed larger with every passing hour.

It was no longer just a distant silhouette on the horizon.

Now, they could see the jagged ridges, the broken ledges, the slant of eroded stone where time and wind had carved ancient scars. The sky above it churned with clouds that didn't move like the ones beyond the forest—they swirled, always circling, like they were caught in the breath of something long asleep.

But that sleep… felt thinner now.

And Argolaith felt it in his bones.

The forest floor rose gradually, the ground becoming rockier, harder beneath their boots. Moss gave way to gravel, and brambles thinned to reveal winding paths of flat stones half-buried under time.

Kaelred paused at one such stone and knelt beside it, brushing moss away.

There were markings underneath.

Runes.

Not the kind they found in old ruins, but newer—cut with a blade, not worn with age. The symbols glowed faintly, pulsing once as if reacting to his touch.

Kaelred stood quickly. "That wasn't here last time."

Argolaith stepped beside him, frowning. "No. It wasn't."

Malakar crouched beside the stone, tracing one rune with the tip of a skeletal finger.

"Someone came after you left. Or something awakened after you did."

Thae'Zirak raised his head, sniffing the air. "The winds are not natural here. They carry whispers."

Naruul, who had remained strangely quiet for most of the morning, now stopped abruptly. His many eyes fixed on a patch of twisted brush ahead.

"There's a memory lodged in the earth."

Argolaith turned. "A memory?"

"A death. But not a beast's. A soul. Screaming."

They continued forward in silence, the mountain now rising just ahead. Its foothills were scattered with broken pillars—remnants of structures too ancient to name. Stone arches leaned inward, half-swallowed by dirt and vine. But something had disturbed them recently.

The dirt had been swept aside.

Fresh carvings lined the arches.

Spirals. Teeth. Eyes.

Argolaith stared at one—etched into a shattered wall, recently carved. It was the symbol of watching. Of remembrance.

He remembered seeing it before.

Back when he faced his first tree's trial. The same symbol had glowed in the distance, barely visible in the runes buried beneath the roots.

Kaelred whispered, "Someone's reactivating this place."

"No," Malakar said. "Something is reawakening it."

A soft quake shook the ground beneath their feet.

Not enough to break stone.

But enough to speak.

The wind shifted—carrying the faint scent of iron, of moss burnt by arcane energy.

Argolaith's mark burned faintly on his hand—the same one the forest had given him near the petrified titan. It pulsed once. Then again.

Naruul hissed and stepped back.

"The ruin remembers you."

The mountain seemed to watch them now.

The trail curved gently upward, disappearing behind stone ridges and ledges. The ruins they once passed through with caution now felt alive, tense, coiled like a predator holding its breath.

Argolaith looked toward the bend, where the old, buried entrance to the structure waited just beyond sight.

"I want to see it again," he said.

Kaelred gave him a nod. "Then let's go."

Thae'Zirak's wings tensed slightly. "We will reach the base before nightfall."

"But not the summit," Malakar added.

Argolaith took a slow breath.

"Then we finish the climb tomorrow."