God’s Tree

The cavern walls pulsed faintly, as if the tree itself was breathing.

Argolaith stood in the hollow grove, the glowing leaf tucked inside his cloak, the weight of the second trial now behind him. The Trial of Sacrifice had tested his ability to let go, and he had passed.

But the tree was not finished.

Not yet.

The air shifted. The once-stable ground trembled beneath their feet, and the twisted roots lining the cavern walls began to move, shifting like slow, slumbering serpents.

Kaelred tensed. "Uh. Is this normal?"

Malakar watched silently as the path behind them sealed shut, the tangled roots closing like a door that had never existed.

Ahead, a new archway formed—a passage that had not been there before.

Thae'Zirak rumbled low. "The tree guides him now. There is no turning back."

Kaelred groaned. "Of course there isn't."

Argolaith didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, passing beneath the archway and into the unknown.

The others followed.

The path led them into something unexpected.

Not another cavern.

Not another root-bound prison.

But a forest.

It stretched endlessly in all directions, golden mist curling between massive trunks that spiraled toward an unseen sky. The air was rich, heavy with magic, like every breath carried pieces of an ancient dream.

Kaelred turned in a slow circle. "I thought we were inside the tree. How does an entire forest fit in here?"

Malakar's voice was distant. "This is no longer just within the tree."

Argolaith exhaled. He understood.

This place was a bridge. A threshold between realities.

And the final trial lay ahead.

As they walked through the mist, Argolaith felt it—eyes upon them.

Not hostile.

Not Hollowed.

Curious. Testing.

The second tree was watching, measuring, waiting for the right moment to reveal what came next.

Kaelred noticed it too. He slowed slightly, his grip on his daggers tightening. "Feels like we're walking through someone's memory."

Thae'Zirak nodded. "This is the realm where the trees truly see."

Malakar's violet flames flickered. "And where they decide if you are worthy of their lifeblood."

Argolaith stepped forward without hesitation. "Then let them decide."

A whisper echoed through the golden mist.

Not words. Not yet.

But something deeper. A message pressed into the mind, not spoken aloud.

Then, at last, the voice of the second tree filled the air—

Not distant. Not a dream.

It spoke here. Now.

"You have proven your will. You have resisted greed. You have let go of what was given."

"But the greatest test is not what you can gain."

"It is what you are willing to lose."

The mist thickened. The golden glow turned darker.

And from the shifting fog—

A door appeared.

Ancient, carved from twisting roots, bound by symbols older than time.

Argolaith stopped before it, feeling the weight of the decision waiting beyond.

Kaelred sighed. "Yeah. That looks ominous."

Thae'Zirak's voice was low. "This is it. The final trial."

Argolaith reached for the door.

And with a single push—

It opened.

Argolaith stepped through the door.

And the world shifted.

The golden mist vanished.

The sound of rustling branches, the weight of the second tree's presence—all gone.

For a moment, he floated in a space of nothing.

Then—

He landed on solid ground.

He stood in a vast, empty hall. The floor was smooth stone, stretching endlessly in all directions, black and featureless like the surface of a still lake.

No walls.

No ceiling.

No doors.

Only the space.

And across from him—

A mirror.

It was not glass. It was not crystal.

It was water—a vertical pool of shimmering silver, held in the air by unseen forces.

And within it—

A reflection of himself.

But it was not just a reflection.

It breathed.

It blinked.

It watched him with knowing eyes.

Then, for the first time, it spoke.

"This is the choice you must make."

The mirror shifted, and suddenly, two paths appeared behind Argolaith.

Not real paths—visions, swirling in the silver mist.

One to his left.

One to his right.

The first path showed him standing in golden light, stronger than ever. The lifeblood of the second tree coursed through him, his body brimming with power. His journey complete. His strength undeniable.

But at his feet—Kaelred and Malakar lay motionless.

Fallen.

Lost.

The second path showed him standing alone in darkness, scarred and weary, the weight of struggle heavy on his shoulders. He had failed to claim the lifeblood. He was weaker. But behind him, Kaelred and Malakar stood unharmed.

The voice in the mirror deepened.

"One leads to power. The other to sacrifice."

"Choose."

Argolaith's jaw clenched. "This isn't a real choice."

The mirror rippled.

"Isn't it?"

Argolaith took a step forward. "Power is meaningless without those who fight beside me."

The mirror pulsed again.

"Then you understand the burden of loss."

The vision shifted.

Now—

The first path showed a world where he reached the peak of strength, where he never had to struggle again—but was utterly alone.

The second path showed a world where he fought, failed, struggled over and over again—but his allies stood beside him.

Argolaith exhaled.

He knew the answer.

He turned away from the golden path of power—and toward the path of struggle.

The mirror darkened.

For a long moment—nothing happened.

Then—

A hand reached from the silver pool, grasping his wrist with impossible force.

The air split with the sound of cracking ice.

Pain lanced through him—not physical, but something deeper.

He felt weaker.

As if something had been taken.

Then—

The mirror shattered.

The world lurched.

When Argolaith opened his eyes, he was standing back in the forest beneath the second tree.

Malakar and Kaelred stood exactly where he had left them.

Kaelred frowned. "What happened in there?"

Argolaith rolled his shoulders, feeling the weight in his chest. He was different.

Malakar studied him. "You lost something."

Argolaith nodded. "A price had to be paid."

Kaelred raised an eyebrow. "So… did we win?"

Argolaith turned toward the great tree.

The final trial was done.

But the second tree had not yet given him its lifeblood.

Not yet.

He had endured the Trial of Greed, resisting the allure of power.

He had passed the Trial of Sacrifice, surrendering what he had earned.

And in the Trial of Loss, he had given something of himself to prove he was worthy.

Now, only one task remained.

He had to go to the tree alone.

The path ahead was unmistakable.

The golden mist that had once surrounded them thinned, revealing a single, straight passage winding toward the base of the towering tree. The air here was heavy, thick with something more than magic—a presence that filled the space like the weight of an unseen eye.

Argolaith stepped forward.

Kaelred reached out instinctively. "Wait. You're just—what? Walking off alone now?"

Argolaith didn't slow. "This part is mine alone."

Kaelred groaned. "That's the worst sentence I've ever heard."

Thae'Zirak watched him closely, golden eyes narrowing. "The tree will not harm him, but what it demands in return may be beyond what he expects."

Malakar, ever composed, gave a slow nod. "If he has passed the trials, then the tree will listen."

Argolaith didn't look back.

The others did not follow.

The moment he crossed into the final path, the roots behind him shifted—closing the way, sealing him in.

Now, he was truly alone.

As he walked, the air thickened around him.

The sound of his footsteps vanished.

The ground beneath him softened—no longer solid stone, but woven root and lifeblood, pulsing faintly.

The second tree loomed ahead, its massive obsidian-black trunk shimmering with veins of emerald and gold. Its branches stretched like ribs piercing the sky, each one humming faintly with power.

He felt it.

The weight of its age.

The depth of something that had existed since before kings, before history, before names.

This was not just a tree.

It was a mind.

A presence.

And it was waiting for him to speak.

Argolaith exhaled, standing at the base of the great roots.