Chapter 2: Signs of Decay
As Lila grew, she began to notice that the world around her was changing. At first, the signs were small—flowers that refused to bloom, patches of grass turning brown, and birds that no longer sang in the mornings. But soon, the changes became impossible to ignore.
It was the summer before Lila turned seven when she first realized something was terribly wrong. She wandered into the edge of the forest near her village, as she often did, following the soft whispers of the trees. The forest had always been alive, vibrant, and welcoming. The leaves shimmered in the sunlight, and the air smelled sweet with the scent of wildflowers and damp earth. Birds and squirrels scurried through the branches, and the rivers sparkled like crystal.
But that day, the forest felt different. The leaves were dull and brittle, cracking beneath her fingers. The grass had patches of brown, and the streams that once danced and sparkled were slow, heavy, and dark. Lila knelt beside one of the rivers, dipping her hand into the water. A shiver ran through her, and she felt a sharp, painful sting in her chest.
"What… what is happening?" she whispered to herself, looking around at the fading forest.
When she closed her eyes, she felt it. The pain was not hers alone—it was the forest's, the rivers', the animals'. A deep, aching sorrow filled her body, wrapping around her like a heavy cloak. Lila had never felt anything like it before, but instinctively, she knew: the Earth was suffering, and she could feel it in her very soul.
She walked further into the forest, hoping it was just one small area that had withered, but every step made her heart ache more. Trees that had stood for decades were cracked and lifeless, their branches reaching toward the sky like desperate hands. Flowers that had always bloomed in colorful clusters were now pale and drooping. The soil felt dry and cracked beneath her feet, even in places where rain had fallen just days before.
Lila fell to her knees beside a small patch of daisies, brushing her fingers over the petals. They were fragile and limp, as if they had lost their will to live. Tears filled her eyes. "Please… grow… please be alive," she whispered. She placed both hands gently over the daisies, hoping her magic could heal them. But nothing happened. The petals did not straighten, the leaves did not shine.
A sudden rustle in the bushes made her look up. A small rabbit emerged, its fur dull and matted. Its eyes were wide and frightened. Lila reached out, but the rabbit flinched and ran away into the dying underbrush. She felt a pang of guilt. Not only were the plants dying, but the animals, her friends, were suffering too.
Returning home, Lila found her parents in the garden, tending to the few flowers that still survived. Her mother, Elara, noticed the sorrow in Lila's eyes.
"You've seen it too," Elara said quietly, her voice trembling. "The forest… the rivers… they are not well."
Lila nodded, wrapping her arms around her knees. "I can feel it, Mother. It hurts me… like it's inside me."
Maren knelt beside her. "You have always been connected to the Earth, Lila. But this… this pain you feel… it is not your fault. The world is changing because humans are not caring for it. We cut too many trees, take too much water, and forget to protect the animals and plants. The Earth is crying, my child, and you can feel its cry."
Lila pressed her hands to her chest, feeling the rhythm of her heartbeat. The ache in her body had grown stronger. She had never realized before how much the world relied on balance, on care. And now she felt the consequences.
Over the next few weeks, the signs of decay spread closer to the village. The river that ran beside their homes began to darken, thick with mud and debris. Fish floated to the surface, lifeless. Lila would sit by the edge, dipping her hands into the water, trying to purify it, but the water resisted her magic. It was heavy, tainted, and stubborn. Each attempt left her drained, her energy fading like the fading leaves.
One morning, she ventured into the nearby forest again, hoping to find something that had survived. But as she walked, she realized that even the strong, ancient trees were weakening. Their roots had begun to rot, and the moss that had always covered them was gray and brittle. The wind, once playful and gentle, now whistled harshly through the branches.
She heard a sound that made her freeze—a low, mournful cry. Following the noise, she found a young fawn lying on the ground, its legs tangled in dry vines. Its eyes were wide and full of fear. Lila knelt beside it, placing her hands gently on its head. She tried to channel her magic, to ease its pain, but the vines resisted. The fawn's suffering pressed against her heart, sharp and heavy, and she felt tears streak her cheeks.
"Please… you have to live," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I can't save everything… but I'll try. I promise."
That night, Lila could not sleep. She lay awake in her bed, listening to the wind and the creaking of the trees outside. She felt the sorrow of every plant, every animal, every part of the Earth that was fading. The ache in her chest had not lessened—it had grown, a constant reminder that the world was in danger.
"I have to do something," she whispered to herself in the dark. "I can't just feel the pain… I have to help."
The next day, she ventured into the village square, hoping to speak to the elders. She found them discussing plans for the forest beyond the hills. The village needed wood for building and fire, and some argued that cutting more trees was necessary. Lila's stomach tightened. She wanted to shout, to tell them that the forest was dying, that the rivers were black, that animals were disappearing. But she was small, just a child, and her words felt fragile against their plans.
Instead, she walked to the edge of the square and touched the flowers that still survived there. A faint glow spread from her hands, but the flowers only half-bloomed, struggling to live. Lila pressed her palms harder, trying to give them life, but the effort left her weak and trembling. She realized then that the Earth's pain was too great for her alone to bear.
Over the following weeks, Lila began to explore farther into the dying forest. She discovered streams that had dried completely, patches of grass so scorched and lifeless that no plant could grow. Birds no longer sang, and small animals hid from her, afraid or too weak to approach. She realized that the decay was spreading faster than she could heal it.
One evening, as she sat beneath a tree, exhausted and heartbroken, she felt a gentle warmth brush against her cheek. The wind seemed to speak to her, whispering softly through the branches. "Child of green… child of life…" it murmured. Lila closed her eyes, listening. The voice was faint but filled with kindness and urgency.
She understood then that she was not alone. Something—or someone—was calling to her, guiding her, preparing her for what was to come. But she also understood that the journey would be difficult. The Earth's pain was deep, its wounds many, and her powers, though strong, might not be enough.
Still, she made a promise. She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling the ache there that mirrored the Earth's sorrow. "I will help you," she whispered. "I will do everything I can. I won't let you die."
The forest seemed to sigh in response, a soft rustling of leaves that felt like a quiet thank-you. Lila closed her eyes and rested beneath the branches, drawing strength from the trees, the soil, and the air. She knew the path ahead would be long and painful, but for the first time, she also knew she had a purpose.
She was the green-born child, tied to the Earth in ways no one could understand. She could feel its sorrow, its joy, its very life. And she had vowed to protect it, even if the world did not yet understand the urgency.
For the first time, Lila felt the weight of responsibility settle on her small shoulders. The pain she carried was heavy, but it was a reminder that she was needed. The Earth was calling, and she could not ignore it.
That night, she dreamed of forests bathed in golden light, rivers sparkling like diamonds, and animals thriving once again. She saw herself walking among them, touching flowers and trees, restoring life wherever she went. But the dream also showed shadows—humans cutting trees, rivers polluted, animals fleeing. Lila woke with a start, her chest still aching from the vision, but her resolve was stronger than ever.
The world was dying, and she could feel it in her very bones. But she was Lila, born of green, and she would not stand by and watch life fade away.