God’s Tree

As the days passed, Argolaith began to feel the weight of the mountain closing in on him, its looming presence ever more tangible.

The dense forest around them started to thin, and the once dappled sunlight became sharper, almost unnaturally bright. Yet, even as the landscape shifted, there was something else that troubled him: Lysara.

At first, her presence had been a calming one, a quiet guide through the wilderness. But now, Argolaith couldn't shake the feeling that she had been more than just a helpful companion.

There was an odd calmness to her, a knowing in her eyes, a quiet certainty in every step she took. As if she had known what was ahead all along.

The more he thought about it, the more it unsettled him. How could someone be so prepared for a journey as unpredictable as theirs? And why had she remained so enigmatic about her true purpose?

One evening, as they made camp beneath the towering, ancient trees, Argolaith decided he had waited long enough.

As the fire crackled softly, he turned to Lysara, the flames reflecting in her thoughtful gaze.

"Hey, Lysara," he said, his voice cutting through the comfortable silence. "What did you say you were doing out here again?"

Lysara didn't immediately respond. Instead, she gave a small, knowing smile, as though she had been expecting this question for some time.

Her eyes met his, and for a brief moment, there was an intensity in them that sent a ripple of unease through him.

"I didn't say," she replied softly, her tone light and almost teasing, "but good job on finally noticing."

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, as if she were appraising him. "But now that you've noticed, we will have to separate our paths."

The words hit Argolaith like a stone sinking into deep water. The world around him seemed to slow, the crackling fire growing louder in his ears, as his mind processed her cryptic response.

He blinked, confusion clouding his thoughts.

"Wait, what do you mean, we will have to separate our paths?"

His voice came out stronger than he intended, though he could feel the tension rising in his chest. He couldn't shake the unease that had settled in the pit of his stomach.

Lysara stood slowly, her figure casting a long shadow across the flickering light of the fire.

She appeared taller in the dim glow, her posture regal and purposeful. There was no more teasing, no playful smile on her lips. In its place was a calm, unwavering resolve.

"Well," she began, her voice steady, "you see, I am the trial master of the mountain."

Argolaith froze, his breath catching in his throat. "Trial master?" he echoed, as though he didn't quite believe what he was hearing.

Lysara's expression remained serene, but the gravity in her eyes deepened. "Yes," she continued. "Now that you've passed the first trial, it is time for the second."

The fire crackled in the silence that followed. Argolaith's heart began to beat faster, the sudden realization of what this meant sinking in.

His mind raced, and yet he couldn't fully process the enormity of what Lysara was saying.

"The first trial?" he repeated, his voice almost a whisper. "What do you mean by 'trial'? I thought we were traveling together."

Lysara's gaze softened for a moment, but there was still a shadow of something deeper in her eyes—a truth she had been withholding.

"You've been walking the path of the mountain all along," she explained slowly, "but it is not a path meant for just anyone. It is a test. A journey of self-discovery. The true trial begins now."

Argolaith's thoughts spun, a whirl of confusion and disbelief. "So… everything we've done so far, the fights, the monsters, the endless days walking through the forest—was all part of some test?"

He shook his head, trying to clear the fog in his mind. "You knew about this. You knew what was ahead the entire time, didn't you?"

Lysara didn't flinch. Her eyes were unblinking, unyielding.

"Yes, I did. But that does not mean you are not worthy of the challenge. You've come this far, Argolaith. Now, it's time for you to prove you are ready for what lies ahead."

Argolaith took a step back, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword.

His grip tightened around it as his mind scrambled to understand what she was saying. "So this is it, then? You're going to leave me here, alone, to face whatever is next?"

"Not alone," she corrected him gently, her voice still soft, but the weight of her words carried through the air like a solemn vow.

"There will be others—other challengers, other humans who seek the same thing you do. And the beasts, Argolaith. The primordial creatures that guard the mountain's power. You will face them all, and you will need to rely on everything you've learned."

Argolaith felt the ground beneath him shift, as though the very air around him had thickened, his breath suddenly shallow.

"A month?" he asked, his voice barely audible. "You said I have a month to reach the top of the mountain?"

Lysara nodded, her gaze unwavering.

"Yes. But there is a catch. You will not only face beasts and creatures. The mountain will test you in ways you cannot yet comprehend. In the end, it will be your heart, your mind, and your will that will determine whether you are worthy of the power that awaits."

And just like that, Lysara's form began to fade. At first, it was subtle—a shimmer in the air, a slight ripple.

But then, within a blink, she was gone. Not a trace left behind, as if the very earth had swallowed her whole.

Argolaith stood frozen, his hand still tight around the hilt of his sword, staring at the place where Lysara had stood.

His chest heaved as the shock settled in. He couldn't believe what had just happened. She had known all along, had been guiding him for some purpose he hadn't understood.

She was the trial master. She was testing him, and now that he had passed her first test, he was left to face the next trial alone.

But, he wasn't entirely alone, was he? There would be others, she had said. Other humans, other challengers.

And there would be creatures—ancient, primordial beasts that roamed the mountain, guarding its secrets. The fire crackled once again, snapping him out of his daze.

"Well," he muttered, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Time to walk."

He turned his gaze toward the mountain, the towering peaks looming above him, half-hidden by swirling mist. The path was narrow here, winding through jagged rocks and thick foliage.

The air was colder now, and every step he took seemed to bring the weight of the mountain's power closer to him.

He couldn't feel the usual warmth of the forest around him anymore, and the magic that had once been so palpable now felt dense, almost suffocating.

His hand rested on the sword at his side, his mind racing as the reality of his situation began to sink in. He had come so far, faced so many trials already, and yet, now, the true challenge had only just begun.

There was no turning back now. The mountain was in his sights, and with it, the promise of the knowledge he had sought for so long. But at what cost? What would he have to give up to claim it?

As he pressed on, the days grew colder, and the landscape around him grew ever more treacherous.

Jagged rocks and steep cliffs marked the path, and the once-familiar forest gave way to barren, windswept highlands.

The wind howled like a living thing, tugging at his cloak and biting at his skin. The air grew thin and harsh, but Argolaith refused to stop.

Every step was a reminder that his time was limited. He had a month to make it to the summit. A month to face whatever waited for him there.

The journey became more intense as the days wore on. Strange, twisted creatures began to appear in his path—beasts with eyes like burning coals, their forms flickering in and out of existence like shadows.

He fought them with all the skill he had honed over the past years, his sword flashing through the air as he fought to protect himself from the relentless onslaught.

But despite the danger, he pressed on. Lysara's words echoed in his mind, and each battle only fueled his determination.

He could feel the power of the mountain growing stronger with every step, a palpable force in the air that pushed him forward. He was nearing the peak.

The trees were no longer his guide, and the mountain was his only companion.

Finally, after days of harsh travel, Argolaith found himself standing at the foot of the mountain's ascent.

The path ahead was steep and treacherous, the rocks slick with frost. His breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles sore and fatigued from the constant strain of the journey.

"This is it," he whispered to himself, his voice hoarse. "The final stretch."

He stepped forward, feeling the mountain's energy surge beneath his feet. There was no turning back now.

The mountain awaited him, and with it, the knowledge—the key to unlocking the power he had long sought.

He could feel the pull of destiny, the weight of his purpose, settling deep within his bones.

Lysara had said that the mountain would test him, but he was ready. Ready to face whatever trials lay ahead. Ready to claim the power that was rightfully his.

With a final glance at the top, Argolaith took his first step up the mountain, his resolve unshakable.

This was his destiny. And nothing would stop him from claiming it.