God’s Tree

As Argolaith stowed his spoils of battle in the storage ring and resumed his journey, he marveled at the diversity of the herbs he had found scattered across the Forgotten Forest. 

Each herb was unique in its own way: some pulsed with a soft, eerie glow, casting a faint light in the deep shade of the forest, while others were starkly colorless, as though no pigment had ever dared to touch them. 

The more he walked, the more his thoughts shifted toward his discoveries, wondering what each plant could do. He had learned that these herbs had a power of their own, their very essence embedded with magic, waiting to be unlocked.

"Let's see where I am on the map," he muttered aloud, pulling the old piece of parchment from his pack. His fingers traced the map carefully, seeking his position. He smiled as his finger reached the mark where he had stoped. "Only 50 miles left to my cabin," he mused. 

The distance felt almost inconsequential now; the forest no longer seemed so imposing. After all, he had grown in strength and knowledge during his time wandering the untamed wilderness. The memory of the first days in the forest, when fear of the unknown kept him on edge, seemed like a distant echo now.

The excitement to return home swelled inside him, and with each passing step, Argolaith's pace quickened. 

He felt the energy of the forest now, not as something to fear but as something to overcome. His aura, transformed by the magical energies he had absorbed, he radiated power. And the creatures that once hunted the edges of the forest now seemed to fear him, their instincts urging them to retreat. 

Whether they fled at the sight of him or merely sensed the change in him, Argolaith didn't know. But it gave him confidence.

The day wore on as the sun began its slow descent. Shadows lengthened across the trees, and the soft murmur of distant creatures echoed through the woods. Argolaith barely noticed. His mind was consumed by the thought of returning home. He had been away for far too long, and now, his heart yearned for the simple comforts of his cabin.

As his steps grew quicker, his eyes swept across the forest, still attuned to the unfamiliar wildlife around him. Yet, despite the occasional rustle of leaves or movement in the brush, he felt no fear. The forest had become his domain, and he could not help but smile to himself.

"Only a few miles left," he muttered. "I'll be home soon."

But as Argolaith walked, his thoughts shifted to something that had been nagging him since his discovery of the storage ring. "Wait, what is Athos going to say when he sees this?" he mused. 

"Will he be mad? Or will he not care?" He grinned wryly at the thought. "Oh well, I'll figure that out when the time comes. For now, I'll just focus on getting home."

The journey continued, and the familiar outlines of the forest began to take shape. The gnarled trees, with their twisted branches and aged trunks, lined the path, marking the boundary between the wild and civilization. 

Argolaith quickened his pace, feeling a surge of energy pushing him forward. His feet, once aching and sore from the long journey, now felt light and nimble. He moved as if carried by the forest itself.

And then, before he knew it, the trees began to thin, and there, just ahead, he could see the outline of his cabin. A flood of relief washed over him as he took in the familiar sight. His heart raced in anticipation. He had made it.

As he approached the door, Argolaith was greeted by an unexpected sight—a note, pinned to the door with a piece of weathered string. He raised an eyebrow, his excitement quickly replaced by confusion.

"What's this?" he asked aloud, stepping forward. His hand reached for the paper, pulling it free from the door. His eyes scanned the writing.

"Argolaith, when you get back, can you bring me the book that was sitting on top of the map? And don't worry, I'm not mad that you plundered my old lab."

A chill ran down Argolaith's spine as he read. "How did he know I was even there?" he muttered. "Was it the magic stones I took from the walls? Or something else?" He felt a deep sense of unease, as though Athos could see him even now, observing his every move.

"Well, no point in worrying about it now," Argolaith said, trying to brush off the discomfort. "I'm sure he'll explain when I give him the book." His gaze fell to the cabin's interior, and the familiar comforts of home beckoned him in.

Before he could retreat inside, his stomach growled. "Guess I should have a quick snack," he muttered. He stepped toward his pack, pulling out a handful of the glowing berries he had picked on his way back. They shimmered in the low light, their bioluminescent glow pulsing softly.

"Berries and oats sound good," Argolaith mused as he sat at his table. The berries were sweet and tart, and as he chewed them, their warmth spread through his body. The oats complemented them well, offering a grounding, hearty balance.

Taking a deep breath, Argolaith decided on his next course of action. "I think I'll build a little stone shed for the cauldron tomorrow," he said, already envisioning where it might go. He liked the idea of having a more permanent place for his experiments. But first, he had to deal with the book.

The walk to town was uneventful. Argolaith was in no particular rush, but he found his mind occupied with the note Athos had left. As he strolled through the quiet streets, the usual murmurs of the townspeople went unnoticed. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small group of children running past. One of them, a young boy with a grin plastered on his face, suddenly hurled a stone at Argolaith.

"Hey, monkey boy!" the child taunted. "Why don't you stay in the forest where you belong?"

The stone came flying toward him, but before it could hit, Argolaith's hand snapped out, effortlessly catching it mid-air. His fingers clenched around the stone, and in an instant, it turned to dust. The children froze, their eyes wide with fear.

Argolaith didn't say a word. He simply stared at the kids, who began to back away slowly, their earlier bravado quickly evaporating. With a glance, Argolaith turned and continued on his way. The children scampered off, their earlier laughter silenced by the silent power they had just witnessed.

Unbeknownst to Argolaith, this incident sparked a rumor in the town. The child, embarrassed by his failed taunt, spread the story that Argolaith was a cruel, heartless loner. He claimed that Argolaith had "ruined their fun" and was "too mean to play with." The townsfolk, eager for gossip, quickly began to speak of the "loner from the forest" in hushed tones.

Argolaith paid little attention to the whispers as he made his way to the library. When he arrived at the library, the large wooden doors opened with a creak, and he stepped inside, greeted by the familiar scent of old parchment and ink.

"Athos?" he called, his voice echoing in the empty room. "I brought your book. And how did you know I was at the tree-house?"

A figure appeared at the top of the stairs, descending with a fluid grace. It was Athos, his expression a mixture of amusement and concern.

"Argolaith, I could feel it the moment you opened the door," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I have enchantments on that door from top to bottom. Of course, I'd know when someone enters. But you should be more careful in the future. That forest isn't safe, yet you went in anyway."

Athos' voice grew more serious as he scolded Argolaith. For half an hour, he went on about the dangers of the Forgotten Forest, the unpredictable creatures that lurked within, and the caution that should be exercised when venturing there. Argolaith, used to these lectures, simply nodded and waited for the moment when he could move on from the conversation.

Finally, Athos paused, and Argolaith, sensing an opportunity, busied himself by preparing tea with some of the magical leaves he had collected on his journey. He placed a steaming pot of tea before Athos and himself, his movements deliberate and calm.

"Drink it while it's still hot," he said, sliding one cup toward Athos.

As Athos took a tentative sip, his eyes widened in surprise. "Argolaith… where did you find these tea leaves?" His voice was tinged with disbelief. "Do you know how rare these are? They can only be picked once they've reached an age of 10,000 years! And you're just… making tea with them?"

Argolaith merely shrugged. "They were growing near a stream in the forest," he explained casually. "I figured I'd bring some back."

As the hours passed, the two men sipped tea and conversed about a variety of topics, from Argolaith's latest adventures to the peculiarities of the magical plants he had discovered. The conversation was easy, flowing with an air of camaraderie. For a time, the world outside the library seemed distant and irrelevant, as if nothing mattered more than the quiet companionship of an old friend.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of red and orange, Argolaith knew it was time to leave. He stood, stretching his stiff limbs.

"Thanks for the tea and the company, Athos," Argolaith said. "I should head back to my cabin. I'm sure there's a lot to do tomorrow."

"Take care, Argolaith," Athos replied. "And remember—be careful with the things you bring back from that forest. Some things are better left undiscovered."

Argolaith smiled and nodded, a sense of peace settling over him. As he made his way back to his cabin, the quiet streets seemed unusually calm. The townspeople, once buzzing with whispers about his recent actions, paid him no mind. And so he went home to sleep.