Morning came late to Carfein.The light that filtered through the crystal windows of the castle was dim and uncertain, like it was afraid to touch what had happened the night before. The air still smelled faintly of ash and moon-dust — remnants of the Nicasia night, when the Tree of Life had glowed brighter than anyone remembered, its roots thrumming with something ancient and restless.
Aria sat near the balcony of her chamber, her knees pulled close, her hair still tangled from sleep. She hadn't been able to rest properly; every time her eyes closed, she saw that glow again — endless veins of light winding through the kingdom like veins under pale skin.
Below, the courtyards were quieter than usual. Servants whispered instead of talking. Priests carried offerings to the Tree earlier than dawn. And somewhere near the heart of the palace, someone was screaming.
Aria shivered.
A knock echoed through her chamber door.Before she could respond, the door opened and Sira stepped in with a tray balanced carefully on her palms — the smell of something sweet, blue berries glazed with honey and a soft golden fruit Aria didn't recognize.
"Breakfast from the kitchen," Sira said cheerfully, trying too hard. "They said it's the King's new peace fruit. Or whatever name the cooks invent every morning."
Aria managed a faint smile. "You sound nervous."
Sira gave her a sideways glance. "Everyone is nervous. The Tree moved, Aria. Some say it bent toward the castle. Some say it—" she lowered her voice, "—whispered your name."
"That's ridiculous."
"I thought so too." Sira placed the tray on the table, then hesitated. "But… people saw the glow following you last night. You looked… well, you didn't look normal."
Aria stared at the fruit silently. Her fingers brushed her wrist — faint glowing veins traced under her skin, pulsing softly. "Maybe it's just the light."
Sira leaned in, studying the shimmer. "That's not light. That's alive."
Aria's throat tightened. "Don't tell anyone."
"I won't," Sira whispered. "But be careful. They're saying the King's priests are testing people who glowed."
She turned toward the door, but paused again. "Oh, and Xyren told me to give you something."She fished a small wrapped parcel from her sleeve — a narrow bundle of folded parchment sealed with dark wax. "Said you'd know what to do."
Aria's pulse quickened. "When did he give you this?"
"Last night, after the ceremony. Said not to open it until morning. I don't like being a messenger between princes, Aria. Their faces never mean what they show."
"I'll be fine," Aria said softly.
When Sira left, Aria sat by the window again, unwrapping the parcel. Inside were several aged, dust-stained sheets — the diary pages. The handwriting was slanted, weary, but deliberate. Her fingers trembled as she began to read.
The Diary
The forests stretch endless now. The air here tastes of silence.We left the ruins of Amoth behind three nights ago. I still see their faces — the children I poisoned without meaning to, the land I burned trying to make it live.Yougen does not speak of it. He carries no hatred, only the weight of it. His hands are calloused, but gentle. He helps the ones we meet — binds their wounds, teaches them words, laughter, the art of surviving together.He shines where I fade.We found a group two days past. Twenty-three, perhaps twenty-five souls — farmers, wanderers, mothers. They had built their homes from the bones of fallen trees. Smoke rises from their fires at night like prayer.They took us in without question. I told them nothing of Amoth, nothing of the poison, nothing of the Tree that would not die. I am only Kurag, a traveler with empty hands.Yougen told them stories. They listen when he speaks. Even the wind seems to pause. He told them about the sky beyond the clouds, about the lands that used to breathe before we bled them dry.They began calling him "Yougen the Kind." They began calling me nothing.He deserves their faith. I deserve their silence.
Aria paused. Her heart thudded softly in the quiet room. The voice in the diary felt old and tired — too human for the immortality the Quarties claimed.
She kept reading.
At night, Yougen sleeps near the fire. I stay apart, near the forest. I can't feel the wind. The earth beneath my feet rejects me — every seed I touch blackens.But I will fix it. I will make life again.The Tree in Carfein lives because of me. I will make another one — one that listens to me this time.The others think I am only carving wood. They do not see the veins I dig into the soil. They do not hear the hum. They do not smell the rot when it begins to breathe.
Aria's fingers froze.Her stomach turned. He tried to grow another Tree.
She flipped to the next page — faint marks of dried blood along the edge.
The soil rejected me again. The roots twist and scream beneath the ground. I hear them even when I close my eyes. The sickness spreads. Twenty-three voices are now four. Yougen does not blame me aloud, but his eyes…He knows.Tomorrow, I will leave. The land will burn again. But maybe — maybe something will remember me.
A knock startled her. Aria quickly rolled the parchment and hid it beneath her blanket.
The door opened — Lirien entered, his silver cloak trailing behind, his expression unreadable.
He looked tired — not physically, but in the way of someone who's been awake for too many truths."Good morning, human," he said, his tone light but sharp at the edges. "You look… alive. I was starting to wonder."
Aria stood, uncertain. "Your guards delivered breakfast."
"I see that." His eyes flicked to the tray, then to her hands. "And perhaps other things as well?"
Her breath hitched. "I don't know what you mean."
Lirien smiled faintly, as if amused by her denial. "You don't lie very well. Don't worry, I don't care what Xyren gives you. As long as you keep giving me answers."
He set a small silver box on the table. "More documents. Translate them before nightfall."
Aria nodded, trying to hide her trembling fingers.
As he turned to leave, he paused by the door. "Aria," he said quietly. "When the Tree glowed last night, it responded to someone. Some say it was Kael's return. Some say the king's prayers. But I think…"He looked at her — his gaze sharp, almost reverent."…it was you."
Then he left, the sound of his boots fading down the corridor like falling stones.
Aria stood there long after he was gone, her heart hammering in her chest. The morning sun crept higher, washing the chamber in silver light.She unrolled the diary again, desperate for distraction.
Another small note was hidden between the pages — a single line written in Xyren's handwriting."Decode carefully. Do not let Lirien see the last page."
Her breath caught. There's a last page?She flipped to the back — the ink faint, smudged, almost erased.
The day I left, Yougen followed me. He said he couldn't let me die alone.He said the Tree must live, even if I don't.We found a cliff beyond the marshes. The soil there is black, but it sings. I will plant one last seed.If it grows — it will be our future. If it dies — it will remember our names.
Aria traced the last line with her fingertips.The ink shimmered faintly — like the roots beneath the Tree itself.
Evening fell before she realized how long she'd been reading. The light outside the window softened into gold, the hum of Carfein's city below slowly fading into music and laughter again — people pretending nothing had changed.
Aria stepped onto her balcony. From here, the view of the Tree of Life was breathtaking — its colossal trunk glowed faintly with veins of blue and green light, weaving upward into the endless sky. The roots beneath shimmered faintly, like veins of molten glass threading through the ground.
She whispered into the wind, not knowing why."Who were you, really?"
Somewhere deep beneath the castle, something shifted — a low, resonant hum that trembled through the stone. For a heartbeat, the roots under the earth seemed to breathe.
And then it was gone.
In the shadowed tunnels below, Xyren stood among flickering candles, staring at the same faint tremor running through the ground.He closed his eyes."The Tree's waking again…" he murmured. "And this time, it's not just listening to me."