God's Tree

The land stretched endless before them, a vast expanse of jagged cliffs and barren valleys. The second tree's pull remained steady—a distant, unwavering force, guiding Argolaith forward.

But it was still so far away.

One million miles.

Kaelred groaned, rubbing his face as he trudged behind them. "Okay. I need to ask the obvious question—how are we supposed to keep up this pace for that long?"

Argolaith adjusted his grip on the hilt of his sword, his eyes locked on the horizon. "We manage."

Kaelred let out a short laugh. "Yeah? And when we collapse from exhaustion? What then?"

Malakar, ever composed, smirked. "Then you collapse. And we leave you behind."

Kaelred shot him a glare. "You're hilarious."

Malakar shrugged. "It is not humor. It is fact."

Kaelred groaned loudly. "I hate both of you."

Argolaith smirked but said nothing.

They moved at a steady pace, not quite running, but faster than a normal person could maintain. The land here was dead, lifeless, as if something had drained it long ago.

The ground was cracked and brittle, the soil ash-gray, whispering under their boots like old paper. Occasionally, Argolaith spotted **remnants of ruins—**broken walls, shattered towers, the remains of something ancient.

Whatever had once existed here, it had been forgotten.

Kaelred exhaled. "Alright, another question—why does it feel like we're walking through the corpse of a kingdom?"

Malakar's violet flames flickered. "Because we are."

Kaelred frowned. "You wanna elaborate on that?"

Malakar gestured around them. "This was once the Dominion of Averen—a nation that thrived over ten thousand years ago. Then, one day, it ceased to exist."

Kaelred raised a brow. "Okay, and let me guess—the Hollowed were involved?"

Malakar nodded. "Most likely."

Argolaith scanned the ruins carefully, his instincts on edge. "Then we need to keep moving."

Kaelred muttered, "Yeah, no arguments there."

They continued forward for hours, covering hundreds of miles without stopping.

The second tree's call remained the same—steady, distant.

But something else was watching them.

Argolaith felt it first. A prickle at the back of his mind. Not quite like the Hollowed. Different.

Malakar slowed slightly. "You feel it too."

Kaelred immediately tensed. "Feel what? I feel nothing."

Malakar exhaled. "That is because you are blind."

Kaelred glared. "Thanks. Very helpful."

Argolaith didn't respond. He turned, scanning the cliffs behind them—expecting nothing.

But for just a second—

He saw it.

A figure.

Standing far away, high atop the ridge.

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Too far to make out details.

Too far to be human.

Then—

It was gone.

Kaelred looked between them. "Okay. One of you better explain."

Argolaith's gaze lingered on the ridge for a moment longer before turning away. "We're being followed."

Kaelred cursed. "By what?"

Malakar's voice was quiet. "Something old."

Kaelred exhaled sharply. "Yeah, no, see, that's not what I wanted to hear."

Argolaith didn't slow. "It hasn't attacked. That means it's watching."

Kaelred groaned. "Okay, but why?"

Malakar's flames flickered. "To see if we are worthy."

Kaelred stared at him. "You say these things like they're normal."

Malakar smirked. "They are."

As the sun dipped behind the distant peaks, the temperature plunged.

What had once been a land of dry, scorched rock turned into a frozen wasteland, the air filled with biting wind and thick fog.

Kaelred shivered. "Okay, new problem. It's freezing."

Argolaith adjusted his cloak, unfazed. "We'll find shelter soon."

Kaelred shot him a flat look. "Soon is not now."

Malakar raised a hand, and a small pulse of violet energy flared from his fingertips. Within moments, a thin, ghostly flame **hovered in the air beside them—**not quite fire, but radiating just enough heat to keep them warm.

Kaelred frowned. "You could have done that this whole time?"

Malakar smirked. "Yes."

Kaelred groaned. "I swear to the gods—"

They pressed forward, the mist thickening as the cold deepened.

Argolaith kept his senses sharp, his eyes scanning the unseen shapes shifting in the fog.

Ruins.

More ruins.

Then—

A massive structure in the distance.

Something not broken.

Something still standing.

Kaelred squinted. "Is that a fortress?"

Malakar studied it. "It would seem so."

Argolaith felt a shift in the air. The second tree's presence was not here, but this place—

It meant something.

Kaelred sighed. "We're going in, aren't we?"

Argolaith smirked. "You wanted shelter."

Kaelred groaned. "I hate you."

The fortress loomed ahead, a massive structure of blackened stone and iron, standing defiant against the barren wasteland.

Unlike the ruins they had passed before, this place was untouched—not crumbling, not forgotten.

It endured.

Argolaith studied it carefully, feeling the weight of something ancient in its walls.

Something watching.

Kaelred exhaled, rubbing his arms. "Alright, so we're just gonna walk into the creepy fortress in the middle of nowhere? No hesitation?"

Malakar smirked. "If you wish to sleep outside, be my guest."

Kaelred muttered, "I hate you."

Argolaith stepped forward. The second tree was still far ahead. But something about this place…

It felt important.

They approached the massive iron gates, flanked by two towering statues, their forms worn by time but still imposing—figures of warriors, cloaked and armored.

The moment Argolaith stepped onto the stone threshold—

The doors groaned open.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

As if the fortress itself had been waiting for them.

Kaelred tensed. "Nope. Nope. See, this is how bad things start."

Malakar's violet flames flickered. "The door is an invitation."

Kaelred stared at him. "You say that like it's a good thing."

Argolaith didn't hesitate.

He stepped inside.

The air was thick with dust, but the fortress was not in ruin.

No shattered pillars.

No collapsed ceilings.

It was preserved, as if frozen in time.

The main hall stretched before them—vast, dimly lit by ghostly blue flames flickering in sconces along the walls. The stone floor was smooth, unbroken, lined with worn tapestries bearing sigils they did not recognize.

Kaelred frowned. "Why does it feel like someone still lives here?"

Malakar's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps they do."

As they moved deeper, Argolaith felt it again.

The sensation of being watched.

But not by Hollowed.

This was something different.

Something older.

Kaelred, who had been muttering complaints under his breath, suddenly stopped walking. His face paled slightly. "Uh… tell me I'm not the only one hearing that."

Argolaith stilled.

A sound echoed through the halls.

A soft, rhythmic tapping.

Like fingers against stone.

Then—

A voice.

Low, steady, edged with something inhuman.

"It has been a long time since a mortal walked these halls."

The flames flickered violently.

Kaelred cursed. "Oh, that's fantastic. I love that. Who said that? Where are you?"

Silence.

Then—

A shadow shifted at the far end of the hall.

Not a figure.

Not something solid.

But something there.

Waiting.

Watching.

Argolaith tightened his grip on his sword. "Who are you?"

The voice chuckled.

"A question best answered within. If you have the will to walk further."

The shadows stirred again.

And then—

The path ahead opened.

Argolaith exchanged a glance with Malakar.

Kaelred threw up his hands. "Okay, let's just acknowledge that every single time we follow creepy shadow voices, things go terribly wrong."

Malakar smirked. "And yet, you will follow."

Kaelred groaned. "I really need to find better friends."

Argolaith exhaled, stepping forward. The second tree was still far ahead.

But this place—

It meant something.

And whatever was inside…

It was waiting.