The Chronoseed emerged from the fold above a planet shrouded in twilight. A single great continent stretched beneath them, blanketed in thick, ancient forest. From orbit, the trees formed vast, swirling patterns—as though they had grown under the command of memory, not nature.
Cael adjusted the scanners. "This forest isn't mapped in any known registry. No planetary designation. No orbiting satellites. It's like it appeared out of nothing."
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "Or like it was waiting to be found."
They descended through layers of soft clouds and mist, setting down beside a stream that shimmered like liquid glass. The forest pulsed with stillness. Not quiet in the absence of sound—but quiet like breath held. A tension that refused to fade.
Lily stepped out first, her boots crunching on moss that seemed to shimmer slightly underfoot. "This isn't just old growth. It's... pre-temporal."
Ethan looked up. "Pre-temporal?"
"Some of these trees existed before standard temporal frameworks were formed. They've been absorbing fragments of time for eons."
As they journeyed deeper, they began to notice something strange: every so often, a tree bore a marking. Etched in languages no longer spoken, some looked like ancient warnings, others like records.
Eventually, they came upon a clearing where the trees had formed an almost perfect circle. In the center stood a monument of roots and stone, shaped into a throne. Upon it sat a being cloaked in silver bark and moonlight.
"I am Calneth," it spoke, voice rustling like wind through dry leaves. "Guardian of the Verdant Continuum."
Ethan bowed. "We're travelers—searching for the sources of temporal anomalies. Our journey has taken us across the edges of memory and time."
Calneth nodded slowly. "Then you've reached the part of your path that remembers you."
The trees around them shifted, their leaves shimmering like mirrors. Images appeared on the bark—reflections of the crew's earliest steps, moments from past worlds, alternate lives.
"This forest," Calneth explained, "is not a place. It is a response. It grew from the echoes left behind by those who dared shape time. It waits for those who can hear it."
Lily stared at one image—a moment where she nearly abandoned the Accord to pursue her own research. It played out like a question never fully asked.
Marcus frowned at a tree that showed him shaking hands with Kalnor in a dark alliance. He recoiled. "I would never."
"But you might," Calneth said. "This forest doesn't lie. It simply shows what could become."
Ethan stepped toward the throne. "Can you help us? There's a fracture coming. One that could split the very continuity of the multiverse."
Calneth touched a gnarled branch to the throne's arm. "You must carry with you the Rootcore."
From the ground, a seed rose—glowing faintly gold, wrapped in bark, humming with slow, ancient rhythm. Calneth placed it in Ethan's hand.
"It holds no power. Only memory. But planted at the right moment, it may anchor you when all else begins to unravel."
The forest sighed then—an exhale of wind that whispered secrets. The sky above shimmered, and for a moment, they saw stars no longer in the current night.
They returned to the Chronoseed, the seed cradled carefully. Ethan looked back once as the trees slowly folded inward, erasing their path.
"The forest doesn't follow time," Lily whispered. "It waits for it."
And as they departed the Verdant Continuum, the ship's sensors marked a change—subtle but certain. Like something that had been dormant was now tracking their path.
The forest, after all, did not forget.