God’s Tree

Argolaith had not slept peacefully in weeks, but that night, in the small cave at the very top of the mountain, a deep, tranquil slumber finally claimed him.

The cave's interior was modest—a natural shelter carved from ancient rock, its walls smooth and cold, yet offering a welcome reprieve from the biting winds outside.

Here, cocooned in a silence broken only by the steady drip of melting frost, Argolaith's exhaustion gave way to dreams that were as distant and vivid as the legends of old.

Unbeknownst to him, high on the mountain, a deep tremor had shaken the earth. It was as if something vast and ancient had awakened from a long, dormant slumber.

And those foolish enough to investigate the tremors had been devoured by a monstrous creature that lurked in the dark depths of the peaks.

Yet Argolaith, lost in his deep sleep, remained blissfully unaware of the danger that stirred outside his cave.

As morning broke, a golden-amber light streamed through a narrow cracks in the cave's ceiling.

The early sunlight painted the rough-hewn walls in shimmering hues, coaxing Argolaith from his rest.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep. The gentle warmth of the light contrasted with the chill of the mountain air that seeped through the cave's entrance, reminding him that even here, in this secluded haven, the cold was relentless.

Rising from his makeshift bed—a rough pile of furs and blankets he'd scavenged along his journey—he stretched his aching limbs.

Every muscle seemed to protest, yet the relief of a full night's sleep invigorated him. Today, he decided, he would prepare a hearty breakfast.

Over the past few weeks, Argolaith had slain several primordial beasts that roamed the lower slopes of the mountain.

Their meat, although wild and pungent, was a rare and necessary source of sustenance in these harsh climes.

"Hmm," he muttered to himself, peering into his storage ring."What should I make? Whatever I cook, it has to be done quickly before my ingredients freeze solid."

He glanced out at the jagged peaks beyond the cave's mouth.

"If I had to guess, the temperature up here is negative eighty, but thankfully, this cave kept me warm, kept the wind from freezing me into an ice cube. Hahaha, that's a thought."

His laughter echoed softly against the stone walls as he began to gather his ingredients.

From the storage ring, he withdrew a modest supply of fresh meat from his recent conquests, along with several bundles of magic herbs.

Today, he resolved to use herbs imbued with fire properties—plants whose latent heat could ward off the numbing chill as soon as he stepped outside into the freezing winds.

He also pulled out a small, enchanted knife and a compact cooking pot, relics of his long and arduous travels.

"Well then, time to cook," Argolaith said, speaking to the empty air as if the cave itself were an audience to his daily rituals.

He arranged a small fire using carefully stored pieces of dry wood that he'd kept in his ring.

The flames sprang to life quickly, licking the edges of his makeshift hearth and casting flickering shadows on the cave walls.

With practiced ease, he set to work: first, he chopped the magic herbs into bite-sized pieces.

Their leaves glowed with a subtle inner light, hints of red and orange that promised warmth and vigor.

He then retrieved a bit of stock he had prepared months ago—a dark, rich broth that had the tang of meat and the earthy aroma of long-forgotten roots.

"I think I'll make a stew," he murmured as he worked. "I still have a few more days until I get to the ancient ruins, so I must keep my strength up."

His hands moved deftly, adding the chopped herbs to the simmering pot before placing the meat on a hot griddle nearby.

"I'll cook the meat a bit first so it doesn't take too long to stew," he mumbled, his voice steady and methodical.

As the meat sizzled on the griddle, it released an aroma that was almost heavenly—a savory promise of nourishment amid the cold and the isolation.

The fragrance drifted out of the cave and down the mountain, carrying on the wind. Unbeknownst to Argolaith.

That same aroma caught the attention of a massive primordial beast recently awakened by the earlier tremor.

Rumor had it that such beasts, ancient and terrible, roamed these heights at times of upheaval. For a moment, the beast stirred in its slumber, its keen sense of smell alert to the tantalizing scent of cooked meat.

"Everything smells good," Argolaith noted with a wry smile as he added the cooked meat to the pot.

"But I do need to be careful—I don't want to get attacked by any primordial beasts while I'm cooking."

He lowered the pot into the coals, allowing the stew to simmer and meld the flavors together slowly. The low, steady bubble of the stew filled the quiet cave, mingling with the faint sounds of the mountain outside.

With the food now tending to itself, Argolaith decided it was time for some morning training—an opportunity to stretch out the stiffness in his limbs and ready himself for the day's challenges.

He stepped out onto a flat section of frozen stone just outside the cave, the cold biting at his skin as he began a series of pushups and sit-ups.

The exercise was a meditative routine, each repetition a silent vow to overcome the trials ahead.

Minutes turned into what felt like hours as he pushed himself relentlessly, his muscles straining with effort.

When he finally paused to catch his breath, the aroma of the simmering stew reached his nose once again, a welcome reminder that sustenance awaited him.

"Ah, that smells really good," he said between labored breaths, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I haven't eaten this well in days, so I'm sure even the simplest things will taste heavenly right now."

He returned to his humble cooking setup and ladled a generous portion of stew into a bowl.

As he began to eat, the warmth of the magical herbs infused the dish, spreading a comforting heat throughout his body.

Every spoonful fortified him, the flavors both rich and deeply satisfying. But just as he began to enjoy his meal, a subtle, rhythmic tremor began to vibrate the ground beneath his feet.

At first, it was so slight that he barely noticed it, but then, every ten seconds, the cave rumbled as if something immense stirred deep within the mountain.

"Well, that's odd," Argolaith murmured, pausing mid-bite.

"What could be big enough that I feel the ground trembling from the top of the mountain? And where is it heading to?"

The thought gnawed at him, a reminder of the constant dangers that lurked in this frozen, magical place.

Yet, after a few moments of contemplation, he decided to push the thought aside. Survival demanded focus, and he could not afford distractions now.

After finishing his meal, Argolaith methodically cleaned his cooking utensils and stored them back into his storage ring, his mind already shifting to the next phase of his journey.

"Well, it's time to start walking to the ruins I can see off in the distance," he declared, his voice firm despite the lingering tremors.