Eryndel studied him for a long moment before answering, not weighing his worth, but listening to the way his intent settled in the Force. The World Tree's presence loomed behind her, vast and patient, its awareness neither pressing nor retreating. It was already listening.
"You may," she said at last, her voice calm and certain. "The Tree has noticed you, as you felt. That is not something I would deny, nor something I could deny even if I wished to."
She stepped closer to one of the great surface roots, placing her palm against its bark. The Living Force stirred in response, deep and resonant, like a low breath drawn from the heart of the world. "But you must not reach for answers," she added gently. "Ask, and then listen. What the Tree gives is never what we demand, only what we are prepared to carry."
Eryndel lowered herself to one knee beside the root and closed her eyes, her presence settling into the forest as naturally as rain into soil. "Stand with me," she said. "Let it know you are willing to witness."
As Mykel focused, the World Tree answered.
Not with words.
The jungle dimmed around him, the sounds of insects and distant movement falling away until there was only the slow, immense pulse of life beneath his feet. The ground seemed to fall away, replaced by cool stone and echoing space. He stood within a vast cavern, its walls carved with obsidian facets etched in symbols that hurt to look at for too long, their meaning pressing against the mind rather than the eyes.
Figures moved through the vision. Not clearly. Shapes of sentient beings burdened with tools and devices that drank deeply from the Living Force, drawing it inward and distorting it. The air felt heavy, strained, as if the world itself resisted what was being done. The structures pulsed once, violently, then fractured. Not destroyed, but sealed, swallowed by root and stone alike.
The vision shifted.
He saw the recent past. Lights cutting through darkness. Voices echoing in confined tunnels. The university researchers moved cautiously at first, then with growing excitement as they uncovered what had been buried. Fear followed close behind, not sudden, but dawning. The sense of crossing a threshold that should have remained untouched.
There was no slaughter.
Instead, a closing.
Stone flowed where there had been a passage. Roots thickened, coiling and locking, separating those within from the world above. Panic flared, then dimmed, replaced by confusion and exhaustion. The last impression was not death, but containment, and a heavy stillness settling like deep water.
Then the vision loosened its hold.
The forest returned. The warmth. The weight of the air. The steady presence of the World Tree behind Eryndel's hand.
She opened her eyes and looked to Mykel, her expression grave but not without hope. "The Tree has not shown you an ending," she said quietly. "Only a turning point."
Her hand remained on the root. "Those you seek were not taken by predators, nor by malice in the way you know it. They crossed into something unfinished and were… held. Stopped. Whether they still live depends on what followed."
Eryndel met his gaze, emerald eyes steady. "The Tree remembers where the balance was disturbed. It will allow us to follow that memory. But what lies ahead was sealed for a reason, and reopening it will not be without cost."
She rose slowly to her feet. "If you still choose to go forward, I will walk with you. Not to command the forest, and not to bend it, but to listen closely enough to know when to stop."
The jungle breathed around them once more, waiting for his decision.
Mykel Dawson
