The sun had risen fully by the time they reached the edge of the rocky scrublands. The transition from the desolate Borderlands to the domain of the elves was not gradual. It was a hard line drawn in the soil, a boundary where the dust of the human world met a wall of ancient, imposing green.
They stood on a ridge overlooking the tree line. From a distance, the Verdant Sea looked less like a forest and more like a fortress. The trees were titanic, their trunks as wide as watchtowers, their canopies weaving together so tightly that they formed a solid ceiling of leaves that blotted out the ground below.
But there was something wrong with the view.
Lyra, who had been riding the roan mare with her nose buried in a topographical map, pulled on the reins to bring her horse to a halt. She stared at the forest, then at her map, then back at the forest. She cleaned her monocle, a spare she had packed, and squinted.
"This is statistically impossible," Lyra muttered.
"What is?" Briar asked, patting the neck of her massive black stallion. "It just looks like a lot of trees. Big trees, sure, but trees."
"Look at the horizon," Lyra pointed. "According to Imperial cartography and historical records, the Elven Capital lies exactly thirty miles due east from this ridge. The World Tree, Yggdrasil's Offshoot, is supposed to be over ten thousand feet tall. It pierces the cloud layer. We should be able to see it from here. It should dominate the skyline." she spoke with excitement.
Makes sense this their first time travelling this far from their territories.
Nyx sat behind Briar, his arms loosely wrapped around her waist to keep his balance. He peered over her shoulder, his golden eyes scanning the dense greenery.
"I see nothing but forest," Nyx said looking around. "No mountain-sized tree. Just... green."
"Exactly," Lyra said, snapping her grimoire shut with a thud. "It is not there. Which means either the giant tree that has existed for thousands of years stood up and walked away, or we are looking at a mirage."
"An illusion barrier," Briar realized, her hand instinctively going to the hilt of Ignis. "I've heard rumors. The Elves tightened their borders after the last war. They say they folded the light around their territory so no human could ever find the entrance again."
"So we are staring at a illussion right now, these tress in front of us?" Nyx aked.
"A very sophisticated fake wall," Lyra corrected. "If we ride into that, we won't hit a tree. We will likely be diverted by subtle enchantment, walking in circles until we starve or get eaten by moss-bears. It is a spatial distortion field. To enter, we need a Key. Or we need to overload the magical matrix at a specific node."
"Or," Briar grinned, looking back at Nyx, "we have a skeleton key right here."
Nyx slid off the horse. His legs were stiff from the ride, but the energy in his veins was humming. The First Shackle in his chest,the one governing his body, was quiet, sated by the meal he had taken in the sewers. But as his boots touched the loamy soil near the tree line, a new sensation washed over him.
It started as a vibration in his teeth. Then it moved to his ribs. It wasn't the mechanical, grinding noise of the physical shackle. It was a rhythmic thumping.
Ba dump. Ba dump.
It felt like a second heartbeat, syncing with his own.
The Second Shackle. The Shackle of Nature.
Nyx walked toward the edge of the ridge. He looked down at the vast expanse of the forest. To Briar and Lyra, it looked like a static painting of woodland. To Nyx, it looked... blurry. Like a drawing that had been smudged.
"It is hiding," Nyx whispered.
He felt a strange emotion welling up inside him. It wasn't anger. It wasn't hunger. It was the feeling of a parent playing hide-and-seek with a child. The forest wasn't trying to hurt him; it was trying to stay safe. It was curling in on itself, afraid of the world outside.
He walked down the slope.
"Nyx, wait!" Briar called out, sliding off her stallion and rushing after him. "You can't just walk into a spatial distortion! If you get separated from us, we might never find you. The woods twist perception. Up becomes down. North becomes yesterday. It's dangerous!"
Nyx didn't stop. He walked until he was standing inches away from the first massive trunk of the illusion. He reached out his hand.
To Lyra and Briar, he was reaching for a rough oak tree.
To Nyx, he was reaching for a veil.
"Open," Nyx said.
He didn't shout. He didn't channel mana like a mage. He simply spoke with the authority of someone who had once planted the seeds of the universe.
He placed his palm against the air.
Clang.
The sound of a chain snapping echoed through the valley. It wasn't a physical sound; it was a spiritual shockwave that rattled the teeth of everyone present.
The Second Shackle in his chest vibrated violently. A connection, tha was severed eons ago, sparked back to life.
The world rippled.
Like a stone thrown into a still pond, the image of the forest distorted. The green wall shimmered, tore, and dissolved. The illusion melted away like mist in the morning sun, revealing the truth hidden behind it.
Lyra gasped, dropping her book. Briar took a step back, her eyes wide.
The forest hadn't moved, but it had changed. The trees were no longer just big; they were colossal, ancient sentinels with silver bark and leaves that glowed with soft, violet light. The air was filled with floating spores that danced like fireflies.
And in the distance, piercing the heavens just as Lyra had predicted, stood the World Tree. It was a pillar of wood and magic so large it looked like it was holding up the sky. Its branches were essentially floating islands, cascading with waterfalls that turned into mist before they hit the ground miles below.
It was majestic. It was impossible. And it had been hiding right in front of them.
"You found it," Lyra breathed. "You just... turned off the camouflage."
"I didn't turn it off," Nyx said, lowering his hand. The vibration in his chest settled into a warm hum. "I just told it that it was safe to come out."
He turned to the women.
"Let's go. They know we are here now."
As if in response to his words, the wind shifted. The sweet smell of the forest sharpened into something predatory.
"Formation!" Briar barked, her warrior instincts kicking in instantly. She drew Ignis, the red blade bursting into flames. She stepped in front of Lyra, scanning the tree line. "We're being watched."
Nyx stopped. He looked up into the dense, glowing branches of the nearest sentinel trees. He could feel them. Not mana signatures, but heartbeats. Fast, light, and terrified.
"Come down," Nyx called out, his voice calm. "We aren't here to fight."
Thwhip. Thwhip. Thwhip.
Three arrows slammed into the ground inches from Nyx's boots. The fletching hummed with green energy, vibrating with a warning.
From the shadows of the canopy, figures materialized. They didn't step out, they seemed to unpeel themselves from the bark. A dozen Elven Rangers dropped from the high branches, landing silently in a circle around the trio.
They were tall and lithe, moving with a fluid grace that made Briar look clumsy in comparison. They wore armor made of hardened, chitinous bark and cloaks woven from living leaves that shifted color to match the shadows. Their bows were drawn, arrows nocked with deadly precision, aiming at the trio's hearts.
"Hold your fire!" a voice commanded from the trees.
A tall Elf dropped down directly in front of Nyx. He was different from the others. He wore a circlet of woven silver vines, and his armor was polished white wood. His hair was long, braided with river stones, and his eyes were a piercing, emerald green. He held a spear not made of metal, but of a white branch sharpened to a lethal point.
"Human steel is forbidden in the Deep Woods," the Elf Captain stated, his voice cold and melodic, like a frozen stream. "State your business, or feed the roots."
Briar stepped forward, placing herself between the Captain and Nyx. She held her sword low, but ready.
"We seek an audience with King Aerion," Briar announced, her voice adopting the formal cadence of the Imperial Court. "We are refugees seeking asylum."
"Refugees?" The Captain's eyes narrowed. He looked at Briar's flaming red hair. He looked at Lyra's blue robes. Then he sneered.
"I see a Warrior of the Thorn bloodline. And a Mage of the Kael bloodline. The daughters of the Emperors who burn our borders and harvest our kin for potions. You are not refugees. You are spies."
He leveled his white spear at Briar's throat.
"You have nerve coming here, Human. Seize them."
The Rangers moved in. The ground beneath Lyra and Briar rumbled. Thick, thorny vines erupted from the soil, lashing out to bind their ankles and wrists.
"Wait!" Lyra cried, trying to open her grimoire to cast a counter-spell. "We aren't enemies! We escaped them! We-"
"Silence, spawn of Kael," the Captain barked.
Nyx stepped forward.
He didn't draw Requiem. The massive sword remained wrapped in canvas on his back. He didn't raise his fists. He simply walked past Briar, ignoring the flaming sword, and stood chest-to-chest with the Elven Captain.
"Halt!" the Captain shouted, thrusting the spear tip toward Nyx's chest. "One more step and I will skewer you, human!"
Nyx didn't halt. He took that step.
The spear tip touched his black tunic. It pressed against the skin over his heart.
But it didn't pierce.
Nyx looked down at the weapon. He felt the life inside the wood. It had been cut, shaped, and forced to kill, but it was still part of the cycle. It was still his.
"No," Nyx whispered.
The wood of the spear twisted.
It wasn't a spell. There was no mana flair. The white wood simply groaned, as if waking from a long sleep. Leaves sprouted instantly from the smooth shaft, bursting forth in a rapid bloom of green. The sharp point of the spear softened, curling backward away from Nyx's chest. The weapon bent like wet clay, wrapping around the Elf Captain's arm, hugging him instead of harming the stranger.
"What?" The Captain stared at his weapon in horror. He tried to pull back, but the spear refused to let go. It was blooming flowers along his armor. "The wood... it disobeyed me?"
Nyx looked around at the forest. He looked at the vines that were constricting Briar and Lyra with a getle expression.
"Release them," Nyx said softly.
The vines froze. Then, trembling, they uncoiled. They didn't retreat into the ground. Instead, they slithered across the forest floor toward Nyx, rubbing against his boots like affectionate cats.
The Elven Rangers dropped their bows. Their discipline shattered. They watched, slack-jawed, as the forest they had guarded for centuries ignored their commands and worshipped the intruder.
Nyx looked at the Captain. His golden eyes were glowing with a soft, verdant light, a mixture of his original divinity and the awakened power of the Second Shackle.
"You call this Nature?" Nyx asked softly, his voice echoing with the rustle of a billion leaves. "You try to force it into shapes. You try to make it a weapon."
He reached out and touched the massive trunk of the nearest sentinel tree.
"Wake up," Nyx whispered.
The forest exploded with life.
The glowing moss flared blindingly bright, turning the twilight into noon. The massive trees groaned, their branches lowering toward the ground as if bowing to a returning king. Flowers burst from the soil in a tidal wave of color, carpeting the forest floor in seconds. The scent of jasmine and nightshade filled the air, thick and intoxicating.
The Elves fell to their knees.
It wasn't a choice. It was a biological imperative. Every Elf was born with a connection to the World Soul. They could feel the Flow of life. And right now, the Flow was screaming one thing. The source is here.
The Captain fell to his knees, his spear now a blooming branch wrapped around his arm. He looked up at Nyx, tears streaming down his face. He didn't see a human anymore. He saw a blinding pillar of life energy.
"The... The Lost One," the Captain whispered, his voice trembling with religious terror. "The prophecies... King Aerion said the roots would sing when you returned."
Briar lowered her sword, the flames dying out. She looked around at the blooming chaos, then at Nyx, who stood in the center of it like a conductor of a silent orchestra, she smiled softly at his back.
She nudged Lyra.
"Well," Briar muttered, sheathing her blade. "I guess we found our invitation."
Lyra was staring at Nyx, frantically scribbling in her mental notes, her mouth slightly open. "He didn't just manipulate the plants," she whispered. "He accelerated their cellular growth by four thousand percent in a second. He... he is a walking genesis event."
Briar shook her head, 'Here I was thinking she changed a bit.'
Nyx stepped back from the tree. The glow faded slightly, but the flowers remained. He felt tired, using the connection drained him, as the shackle wasn't fully broken yet, but he also felt something new. He felt the location of every living thing for miles. He felt the deer drinking in the stream. He felt the birds nesting in the canopy.
He looked down at the kneeling Captain.
"Can you take us to Aerion," Nyx asked him.
The Elf Captain stood up, bowing deeply. His arrogance was gone, replaced by absolute reverence. He signaled his rangers, who scrambled to clear a path, treating Nyx not as a prisoner, but as a deity.
"At once, Great One," the Captain said. "The World Tree awaits."
As they began to follow the elves deeper into the woods, the forest parting for them like the Red Sea, Briar walked up beside Nyx. She leaned in close, keeping her voice low.
"Okay," Briar whispered. "That was cool. But 'Great One'? Really? That's the best title you could come up with?"
"It seemed appropriate," Nyx shrugged, adjusting Requiem on his shoulder. "I used to plant stars. Trees are easier. They don't explode as often."
"Showoff," Briar grinned, punching him lightly on the arm.
Nyx looked at her. He felt the warmth of her touch on his arm. Then he looked at Lyra, who was smiling at the new flowers, her fear forgotten.
He didn't tell them the truth.
He didn't tell them that when he touched the tree, amidst the joy of the waking forest, he felt something else.
Deep in the roots, beneath the capital, beneath the World Tree... there was a rot.
It was a cold. It tasted like the Void, but wrong. It tasted like the the beings on his memory .
Ancestor Gaia wasn't just kind, as Briar believed. She was dying. The world tree is dying, he could feel it. And whatever was killing her was waiting for him at the heart of the forest.
The journey to the capital was silent, reverent. The Elves did not speak, they only guided. Nyx walked with his head high, but his mind was troubled. He had opened the door, but he feared what he would find inside the house.
The Second Shackle hummed a warning. The cage wasn't just around him. It was around the whole world. And the bars were made of rot.