A violent surge—generations of information forced into a single, fragile mind.
More than anyone could withstand.
Some lost themselves instantly, their thoughts collapsing under the weight of it.
Others—
Her stomach turned.
Others weren't so fortunate.
Bodies failing before the mind could even break.
Veins straining, rupturing under invisible pressure.
Hands tearing apart at the point of contact.
Minds unraveling so violently it dragged the body with it.
Death did not come quietly.
It came aware.
It came screaming.
Angela's fingers curled tightly into her palm.
She didn't move.
Couldn't.
The pull remained—but now it sat beside something else.
Fear.
Slowly, she exhaled, forcing herself to stay where she stood.
Within the Tree's vast structure, faint glimmers of light pulsed softly—like fragments of memory embedded deep within its fibers, flickering in and out of existence.
Generations.
From 2125 to 3500, every record, every diary, every piece of preserved knowledge belonging to the Piao bloodline existed here.
Not stored.
Not archived.
Grown.
For generations, it had been their power, their secret, their shield.
Its existence alone was enough to reshape the world, which was exactly why the world was never meant to know.
Even speaking of it beyond these walls carried consequences.
Those who searched too deeply didn't simply disappear.
Their lives unraveled.
Angela shivered.
We shouldn't be here.
But Angel had already moved on.
She approached a smooth section of stone embedded near the base of the cavern wall—so seamlessly integrated it might have gone unnoticed.
Her fingers tapped against it in a precise sequence.
A soft hum answered.
Above them, a holoscreen shimmered into existence, light cascading downward in translucent waves before stabilizing.
Beneath it, the ground shifted.
Two cushioned chairs rose silently from hidden compartments, their surfaces pristine against the rough stone surroundings.
Angela stared.
"You're— you're setting up a movie?"
Angel dropped into one of the chairs without hesitation, a smug grin already in place as she pulled out a bag of snacks from seemingly nowhere.
"Sit," she said casually. "You'll thank me."
Angela let out a small groan, rolling her eyes—but she didn't leave.
She couldn't.
Something about this place—about the Tree—pulled at her, a quiet, insistent curiosity threading through her unease.
With a reluctant sigh, she sat.
The holoscreen flickered.
Light washed over their faces, cutting through the cavern's dimness as the display stabilized.
[Year 2125]
A story began to unfold.
One that would change how Angela saw her family forever.
The holoscreen flickered, its glow sharpening as the first line appeared.
[My name is Nina Everworth.]
Angela shot upright, the bag crinkling in her grip as a portion of the snacks spilled from it, scattering across the ground.
"What? That's not even a Piao name!"
She pointed at the screen.
Her eyes never left it.
Beneath them, the roots shifted—slow, subtle.
They curled inward, gathering what had fallen, drawing it quietly into the living floor.
Angel flinched at the sudden volume, rubbing her ear as her gaze dipped for a fraction of a second.
Then she moved.
"You'll see. Sit down."
Her tone was easy, almost normal.
In one smooth motion, she slipped the nearly empty bag from Angela's hand, replacing it with a fresh one before the other could react.
The discarded bag disappeared into her grip just as quickly, set aside without ceremony.
Angela dropped back into her seat, settling in as she opened the new bag, her focus still locked on the holoscreen.
The roots stilled.
Nothing remained.
On the screen, the text shifted.
[Everworth was the name of my ex-husband. That cheating scum!]
Angela leaned in immediately, all prior outrage forgotten.
"…Oh?"
Angel sighed.
"Fine. Back then, with war looming, men who didn't want to fight could pay the government to avoid service. Nina's husband couldn't afford it."
Faint imagery flickered behind the text—blurred, indistinct.
"He found a rich woman to cover the cost," Angel continued, "and left Nina and their son for her. She even went to her in-laws for help, but they refused."
Angela's brows knit together.
"Double betrayal."
A brief silence settled between the two sisters.
"After that, Nina took her mother's family name—Piao—and gave it to her son."
Angela's lips parted slightly.
"She sounds strong."
"One of my favorites," Angel said.
The screen shifted again.
[…Due to certain incidents, my son and I now bear the name Piao.]
Angela frowned.
"Wait, that's it? Why so vague?"
"These are summaries, not full diaries," Angel explained.
"Just enough to give context before the council meeting."
Angela slouched—until Angel leaned closer.
"When this is over, I can put you in the system. You'll be able to come back and read as much as you want."
Angela straightened instantly.
"Really? I mean… yes, of course. That sounds… reasonable."
Angel snorted quietly.
Then—
[AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!]