The ascent from the belly of the world was not a climb, it was a resurrection.
As the ancient wooden lift carried them upward through the hollow trunk of Yggdrasil, the sensation of gravity seemed to lessen, replaced by a buoyancy that lifted their spirits as much as their bodies. The air, which had been thick with the metallic tang of ozone and the sickly sweet stench of rot just minutes ago, began to scrub itself clean.
It started as a breeze, a draft of air pulling upward from the depths, carrying the stale mana away. Then, it became a wind. A gale of fresh, crisp scent that smelled of crushed pine needles, rain on hot stones, and the intoxicating perfume of a billion blooming flowers.
Nyx stood at the edge of the platform, looking out at the passing wood of the trunk. Requiem was sheathed on his back, its heavy weight a comforting anchor, but Nyx felt lighter than he ever had since falling from the sky.
The Second Shackle was gone.
It wasn't just unlocked, it had been metabolized. The authority over Nature that beings had stolen was now coursing through his veins. He didn't just feel the mana in the air; he felt connected to it. He could feel the sap rushing through the xylem of the elevator shaft like blood in a vein. He could sense the microscopic movements of roots shifting miles below, settling into a healthy, firm grip on the earth.
The Void inside him, the endless, gnawing hunger, was quiet. It wasn't gone, but it was balanced. The emptiness was filled with life.
Briar leaned against the railing, her body sagging with exhaustion now that the adrenaline was fading. She wiped a smudge of black sludge from her cheek, leaving a streak of soot on her pale skin. Her red hair was matted with sweat, and her armor was scorched from the heat of the Guardian's beam, but her eyes were bright.
"We did it," Briar whispered, her voice rough. She looked at her hands, which were still trembling slightly. "We actually killed a machine-god."
"It wasn't a god," Nyx said softly, turning to look at her. His golden eyes glowed with a gentle, verdant light. "It was a tick. And we burned it out."
Lyra was sitting on the floor of the lift, her legs sprawled out in an unladylike fashion that would have given the Imperial etiquette tutors a heart attack. Her grimoire was open on her lap, and she was frantically scribbling, her quill moving so fast it was a blur of motion.
"The energy readings are off the charts," Lyra mumbled, her eyes wide as she stared at the fluctuating ink on the page. "The ambient mana density has increased by 300% in the last three minutes. The atmospheric pressure is stabilizing. The toxicity levels are dropping to zero. Statistically... this is a miracle. It's a planetary reset event."
She looked up at Nyx, awe replacing the fatigue in her face.
"You didn't just unclog a drain, Nyx. You restarted the heart of the continent."
"We restarted it," Nyx corrected her. He walked over and offered a hand to Lyra. "I couldn't have ripped it apart if you hadn't crushed its legs. And I would have been sliced in half if Briar hadn't held the line."
Lyra took his hand. His grip was warm, solid, and reassuring. He pulled her to her feet effortlessly.
"Teamwork," Briar grinned, nudging Nyx with her shoulder. "We make a pretty good squad for a bunch of runaways."
The lift slowed. Light, blinding, brilliant sunlight, began to pour in from above.
They reached the summit. The doors to the open-air Throne Room slid open with a sound like singing wood.
The trio stepped out, and immediately, they had to shield their eyes.
When they had left, the World Tree had been a dull, dying gray. The canopy had been sparse, letting in only patches of weak light. Now, the world had exploded into color.
The leaves of Yggdrasil were no longer just green; they were a vibrant, glowing emerald that seemed to shine from within. They rustled in the wind, creating a sound like a thousand chimes. The bioluminescent flowers, which usually only opened at night, were wide open in the middle of the day, drinking in the sun and releasing clouds of golden pollen that drifted through the air like magical snow.
The sky above was a piercing, impossible blue. The barrier that protected the city, once a flickering, fragile thing, was now a shimmering dome of iridescent light, strong enough to withstand a meteor strike.
But the most shocking transformation was not the tree. It was the woman standing at the edge of the platform.
Gaia.
When they descended into the dark, she had been a dying, fossilized statue confined to a wheelchair, her skin cracking like dry mud.
Now, she was standing.
She stood tall and proud, her bare feet planted firmly on the living petal-mosaic of the floor. Her skin was no longer gray; it was the rich, deep brown of polished mahogany, glowing with health. Her hair was a cascading waterfall of fresh green vines and blooming white lilies. She looked younger, not a child, but a woman in the prime of an ancient, powerful life, radiating an aura that commanded the wind itself.
King Aerion stood beside her. The Elven King, usually so composed and regal, was openly weeping. He wasn't crying from sadness, he was crying from sheer, overwhelming relief as he watched his city, his people, and his grandmother return from the brink of extinction.
As Nyx, Briar, and Lyra stepped onto the platform, the reaction was instantaneous.
THUD.
The fifty Royal Guards stationed around the perimeter of the throne room dropped to one knee in perfect unison. Their spears hit the ground, heads bowed low in a salute reserved for gods.
King Aerion turned. He didn't just bow, he prostrated himself. He knelt and pressed his forehead to the floor, his silver hair spilling over the petals.
" The Gardener returns," Aerion choked out, his voice thick with emotion.
But Gaia didn't bow.
She turned and looked at them. Her eyes, once milky and blind, were now a piercing, vibrant violet. She smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through a storm.
She walked toward Nyx. She moved with the grace of a willow branch in a summer breeze, her steps light and strong.
"You did it," Gaia whispered. She reached out and took Nyx's face in her hands. Her skin felt like warm, smooth bark. "You saved us."
"I did what was necessary," Nyx said, feeling the immense gratitude radiating from her.
Gaia shook her head. "No. You did what was impossible."
She looked at Briar and Lyra. She stepped back and curtsied, a deep, formal gesture of respect that sent shockwaves through the watching guards. An Ancestor bowing to humans.
"And you," Gaia said to the two women. "Daughters of Fire and Wind. You descended into the hell of my ancestors and stood against the darkness. The Elves will never forget this. Your names will be carved into the Living Bark alongside the First Kings."
Briar flushed, shifting uncomfortably. "We just... hit the things that tried to eat us. It wasn't that noble."
"It was bravery," Gaia corrected firmly. "And bravery deserves reward."
King Aerion stood up, wiping his face with a silk handkerchief. He regained his composure, though his eyes still shone.
"Mother is right," Aerion said, his voice ringing out. "You have saved our past, our present, and our future. We cannot fight your war for you, Nyx. But we can ensure you are armed for it."
He clapped his hands.
From the side chambers, three High Attendants approached, carrying trays covered in velvet cloth woven from starlight.
"For the Warrior of Fire," Aerion gestured to Briar.
The first attendant knelt before Briar. Aerion pulled back the cloth.
Resting on the tray was a scabbard. It wasn't made of leather or wood. It appeared to be made of solidified magma, dark rock veined with pulsing, molten red lines.
"The Phoenix Sheath" Aerion explained. "Forged in the roots of the First Tree during the Age of Dragons. It absorbs ambient thermal energy from the air and your own body heat, condensing it into pure fire mana. As long as you wear this, Your sword Ignis will never run cold. Your flames will burn even underwater."
Briar's jaw dropped. She reached out, her fingers brushing the warm surface. She unclipped her old, battered leather scabbard and slid Ignis into the Phoenix Sheath.
CLICK.
A pulse of heat washed over the room. The ruby on Ignis's pommel flared bright red. Briar gasped as she felt a rush of warmth travel up her arm, energizing her tired muscles.
"This... this is a National Treasure," Briar stammered. "I can't take this."
"It has been waiting for a wielder who burns bright enough," Aerion smiled. "It is yours."
"For the Scholar of Wind," Aerion turned to Lyra.
The second attendant knelt. The cloth was pulled back to reveal a pair of earrings. They were teardrop-shaped crystals, but inside the glass, a tiny, perpetual storm seemed to be raging,clouds swirling in a microscopic hurricane.
"Whisper-Crystals" Aerion said. "They are neural amplifiers. They connect directly to your mana circuits, increasing your calculation speed and mana regeneration by a factor of ten. They will allow you to cast multiple high-tier spells simultaneously without mental fatigue."
Lyra stared at them, her hands trembling. She looked at Nyx, then back at the earrings. "These... these are theoretical. The Arch-Mages at the Imperial Academy said such density was impossible."
"Nothing is impossible for the World Tree," Gaia said gently. "Wear them, child. Let your mind fly as fast as the wind you command."
Lyra put them on. Instantly, her eyes widened. She looked around the room, her brain processing the vector of the wind, the mana density of the air, and the structural integrity of the platform in a split second. She smiled, a look of pure intellectual delight.
"And for you," Gaia stepped closer to Nyx.
The third attendant brought a small, humble wooden box carved from the heartwood of the previous World Tree.
Nyx opened it.
Inside lay a single, crystal vial. It was sealed with wax and filled with a liquid that looked like liquid starlight, gold and white, swirling together.
"Sap of the world tree," Gaia whispered. "It is the concentrated lifeblood of Yggdrasil, harvested from the moment the The Rot disappeared. It is not a potion. It is a second life."
She looked into Nyx's eyes.
"If you are broken... if your body fails... drink this. It will bring you back from the brink of death. It will restore your flesh and refill your Void."
Nyx took the vial. He could feel the immense potency of it through the glass. It resonated with the seed he had tucked in his tunic.
"Thank you," Nyx said sincerely. He tucked the vial into his belt.
"Now," Aerion turned to the balcony overlooking the city. "Come. Your people need to see you."
They walked to the edge of the platform.
Below them, the city of Sylaphu was a sea of faces. Thousands of Elves had gathered on the bridges, the branches, and the plazas. They were looking up, their faces glowing in the light of the rejuvenated tree.
When they saw Nyx, Briar, and Lyra emerge, a roar went up.
It wasn't a chaotic scream. It was a harmonious, melodic shout of joy that shook the leaves. Flowers bloomed spontaneously in the air, raining petals down on the city.
"The Gardener!" the cry echoed. "The Heroes of the Root!"
Nyx looked down at them. He saw parents holding up children. He saw old elves weeping. He saw a people who had been living in the shadow of death for fifty years, finally stepping into the sun.
He felt a hand slip into his.
He looked down. Briar was standing beside him, squeezing his hand tight. On his other side, Lyra leaned against his shoulder, waving shyly at the crowd.
"They love you," Briar shouted over the noise, grinning. "You're a star, Nyx."
"They love us," Nyx corrected. He squeezed her hand back. "We did this together."
The celebration lasted for an hour before the exhaustion finally caught up with them. Aerion, seeing their fatigue, signaled for the attendants to escort them back to the Guest Branch.
Back in their suite, the adrenaline crash was hard.
The rooms had been refreshed while they were gone. Fresh food—fruits, roasted meats, warm bread, was laid out on the low table. The bath was steaming, scented with lavender and mint.
They ate in a comfortable silence, stuffing themselves with the mana-rich food until they couldn't move.
After eating, Briar stood up and stretched, wincing as her stiff muscles protested.
"I need a bath," Briar groaned. "I still smell like the inside of a dead tree."
"I believe I have moss in my hair," Lyra sighed, picking at her silver braid.
They looked at Nyx.
"You go first," Nyx offered, leaning back on the cushions. "I will keep watch."
"No watching," Briar warned, but there was no bite in her tone. She grabbed a fresh robe and headed for the bath chamber. Lyra followed her, clutching a bottle of scented oil.
Nyx sat alone in the main room. He listened to the water running and the faint murmuring of their voices.
He took out the Sap of the world tree and turned it over in his hand.
He had power now. He had weapons. He had allies.
But as he listened to Briar laugh at something Lyra said in the other room, he realized he had something more dangerous than power.
He had something to lose.
The door to the bath chamber opened a crack, releasing a cloud of steam.
"Nyx?" Lyra's voice called out softly. "The water is huge. There's... plenty of room."
Nyx froze.
"Are you... inviting me?"
"Don't make it weird!" Briar shouted from inside, her voice echoing off the tiles. "We're just saying it's a waste of hot water if you wait until it's cold. And we're all wearing bathing clothes. It's... communal. Like the Elves do."
Nyx smiled. He stood up, setting the vial down on the table.
He walked toward the door.
"Coming," Nyx said.
Inside, the bath was indeed massive, a natural pool carved into the wood. Briar and Lyra were soaking in the steaming water, wearing thin, white silk shifts that the Elves provided for bathing. They looked flushed and relaxed.
Nyx stripped off his tunic, revealing the lean, hard muscles of his chest and the faint, fading golden lines of the First Shackle. He stepped into the water, sinking down with a groan of pure relief.
The water was hot, soothing the ache in his bones.
He sat on the opposite side of the pool from them, respecting their space. But Briar paddled over, the water swirling around her shoulders.
"Hey," she said softly.
"Hey," Nyx replied.
She reached out under the water and took his hand.
"Thank you," Briar whispered. "For saving my life down there. When that beam fired... I thought you were gone."
"I told you," Nyx said, looking into her red eyes. "I will always come back."
Lyra floated over, joining them. She didn't say anything; she just rested her head on the edge of the pool near Nyx's arm, closing her eyes in contentment.
They sat there in the steam and the silence, three broken people who had found a way to fit their jagged pieces together.
"Tomorrow," Lyra murmured sleepily, "is the Grand Festival. The King said everyone is invited. New delegates are arriving from the other provinces."
"A party," Briar smirked. "I haven't been to a party since... well, since the one where I punched a Duke."
Nyx looked at them.
"Then we will make this one memorable," Nyx said.
The water was warm. The company was perfect. And for the first time in five thousand years, the World Tree slept peacefully above them.
But Nyx knew the peace was fragile. The Source of the Rot was waiting.
But for tonight... tonight, he would just be a man in a bath with two women he was beginning to realize he couldn't live without.