The starship glided into Hollowood Valley as the afternoon sun filtered through a canopy of sickly trees. Below, the forest that gave the village its name was dying—once-green leaves now brown and crumpled, branches bare and brittle, and the ground carpeted with fallen needles and dead undergrowth. The village itself was a cluster of wooden cabins nestled at the forest's edge, with smoke curling weakly from chimneys and villagers standing in small groups, their faces somber as they stared at the dying trees.
Lin Che landed the starship in a clearing near the village, and a young man with a beard and a hunting bow over his shoulder hurried over. His clothes were patched, and his boots were caked in mud from the forest floor. "You're the travelers from Stonehaven," he said, his voice tight with worry. "I'm Alden—Hollowood's woodcutter and hunter. The forest started dying a month ago. First the pines, then the oaks, then the birches. The animals left—deer, rabbits, birds. Even the squirrels are gone. We use the forest for everything: wood for fires and tools, berries for jam, game for meat. Without it, we can't survive winter. And the worst part? The old oak in the center of the forest—the one my grandmother said was planted when the village was founded—it's dying too. If that tree dies, we lose more than just a tree... we lose our connection to the past."
Xiao Ya walked toward the nearest tree, her boots crunching on dead leaves. She pressed her palm to the trunk, and her hands glowed soft green. A deep, mournful hum filled the air—from the dying trees, from the dry soil, from the very soul of the forest—and she closed her eyes, listening intently. When she opened them, her expression was both sad and determined. "The forest isn't sick from disease," she said, turning to Alden. "It's grieving. The old oak you mentioned... it's not just a tree. It's the heart of the forest, holding the memories of all the trees around it. Something has wounded it deeply—its roots are damaged, and without its life force, the other trees are fading. The young saplings say they can feel the old oak's pain, like a parent's sorrow spreading to children."
Alden's face paled. "The old oak... last month, some travelers camped under it. They built a fire too close, and the flames spread to the trunk. We put it out, but... I didn't think it would hurt the tree that badly. It's been standing for over a hundred years."
Mo Ying slung her toolbox over her shoulder, already heading toward the old oak. She could see it from where they stood—a massive tree with gnarled branches, its leaves mostly fallen, and a blackened scar on its trunk. "We need to heal the old oak first. If we can help it recover, the rest of the forest will follow. Lin Che, you can help me gather healing herbs from the edges of the forest (the ones that are still alive). Su Qing, can you use runes to help the oak's roots regenerate? Something to speed up the healing process?"
Su Qing flipped open her Arcane Manual, pointing to a page of ancient healing runes. "Runes for tree rebirth—they're old, from before the Guardians' time, but they should work. Alden, do you have honey and moss? We can make a poultice for the burn wound on the trunk."
Alden nodded eagerly, calling over his daughter, Elara—a girl of 10 with braids and a pocket full of acorns. "We've got honey from our last harvest, and moss from the north side of the mountain (it grows thick there, even now). Elara can help—she knows all the healing herbs in the forest."
Elara stepped forward, her eyes bright despite the forest's gloom. "I can find comfrey and yarrow! Grandma taught me—they help plants heal. And I've been talking to the old oak every day, telling it to get better. Maybe it'll listen to me now that you're here."
The work began at once. Lin Che and Elara searched the forest edges for healing herbs, finding patches of comfrey and yarrow growing near a small stream that still flowed. Mo Ying and Alden collected moss from the mountain, while Xiao Ya walked to the old oak, placing her hands on its trunk. Her green glow spread across the bark, and she whispered ancient words, words that seemed to come from the earth itself.
Su Qing carved the rebirth runes into small wooden tablets and placed them around the oak's base. As she finished, the runes glowed with a soft golden light, sinking into the soil and spreading through the root system.
Mo Ying mixed the honey, moss, and crushed herbs into a thick poultice and carefully applied it to the burn wound on the oak's trunk. She wrapped clean cloth around it to keep the poultice in place, then stepped back to watch.
Xiao Ya continued to channel her energy into the old oak, her body trembling with effort. After what seemed like hours, a tiny green shoot sprouted from one of the bare branches. Then another, and another. The forest seemed to sigh in relief, and suddenly, all around them, buds began to appear on the dying trees.
By evening, the old oak was sprouting new leaves, and the forest floor was dotted with green shoots. Birds began to return, singing from the branches, and a family of deer emerged from the trees, their coats glinting in the sunset. The villagers cheered, their voices echoing through the valley, and Elara ran to the old oak, hugging its trunk tightly.
That night, the villagers of Hollowood held a feast under the old oak. They served roasted rabbit (the first caught in weeks), bread from Thornwick, and honey cakes made with the same honey used to heal the oak. Alden's grandmother, an old woman with eyes like the forest itself, told stories of how the oak had been planted by her great-grandfather, and how it had watched over the village through storms, fires, and hard winters.
Before they left the next morning, Alden's grandmother gave Lin Che a small acorn—shiny, brown, and heavy with life. "This is from the old oak," she said, her voice soft and wise. "Plant it where you will, and it will grow into a tree that remembers your kindness. Remember Hollowood, and remember that trees are not just wood and leaves... they are living beings with memories, feelings, and a deep connection to all around them."
Lin Che took the acorn, feeling its weight in his palm. He nodded, tucking it into his pocket.
They climbed aboard the starship, waving goodbye. Alden, Elara, and the grandmother stood under the old oak, holding the acorn aloft, while the villagers waved from the forest edges. The oak's new leaves rustled in the morning breeze, and the forest was alive again—birds singing, squirrels chattering, and the scent of pine filling the air.
Inside the cabin, Xiao Ya placed the acorn on the dashboard—joining the stone jar from Stonehaven, the tide shell from Coral Reach, and all their other treasures. The dashboard was now a collection of life itself: seeds, stones, shells, and jars—each a story of healing, each a testament to their journey.
Su Qing flipped open Li Wei's map, her finger pausing at a village far to the south. "Sunnydale," she said. "Li Wei's notes say their mill wheel has broken, and they can't grind grain into flour. The harvest is coming, and without the mill, they'll have to trade their grain for flour, which means less food for themselves."
Mo Ying grinned, adjusting the starship's controls. "Broken mill wheel? We fixed a dying forest, dry springs, tattered nets—mills are easy. I can fix it with my eyes closed. Just need some tools and a little elbow grease."
Lin Che looked out the window, at the forest below. The Star Marrow on his wrist glowed softly, matching the green of the new leaves. This was their journey: healing not just people, but the land itself—trees, springs, forests, and villages. Every act of kindness, every mended thing, was a stitch in the fabric of life.
"Sunnydale," he said. "Let's go fix that mill."
The starship turned south, toward the sun-drenched valley where Sunnydale waited. The forest fell behind them, but its memory remained—in the acorn in Lin Che's pocket, in Xiao Ya's heart, and in the stories they would carry forward.
Ahead, a new village, a new challenge, and as always—they were ready.