All this time, while he’d thought he was running through the ancient ruins, Hadjar had been standing still. He’d been as immobile as the stone statue of the beautiful dancer.
“General,” a distant, emotionless voice sounded. “Now it’s your turn.”
In the next instant, Hadjar realized that he was standing on a stone bridge. An old, crumbling, grass-covered stone bridge. Clouds of smoke and steam rose on either side of it. A pillar of soft, orange light fell from the sky. It caressed the rustling crown of a tree that stood on the bridge. No taller than an ordinary pine tree, it bent like the statue of the dancer. Its scarlet leaves were fluttering, playing with the wind and the rare white birds around it, which didn’t dare risk sitting on its brown branches. The mighty roots wrapped around stones and dug into the bridge, disappearing somewhere in its depths. Lying on these stones, he saw…
“Elaine!” Hadjar exclaimed.
His sword drawn, he rushed forward, trying to cross the bridge, but was immediately stopped by a powerful scarlet flash. The energy behind it was strong enough to make Hadjar stop dead in his tracks, not wanting to risk taking even a single step forward.
He looked at the tree again. Somehow, he became aware of the simple fact that the flash could’ve been much stronger, that it could’ve been enough not only to murder Hadjar, but to destroy... half the Kingdom.
“What are you...?” Hadjar whispered in awe, lowering his sword to the ground.
“Look at me, General... Look at me.”
Chapter 212
“Who or what are you?” Steel and fury could be heard in Hadjar’s voice. “Show yourself!”
“Look closely,” the whisper came again. The former General heard the rustling of leaves, the chirping of birds, the songs of the wind, the creaking of bark that’s been dried out by the hot summer sun. In just a single whisper. “Look closely, man bonded to the sky.”
Hadjar felt an invisible wave pull him toward the tree. It carried him with the tenderness of a mother bathing her only child. It was the wind, it was the energy, it was everything and nothing, all at once. Suddenly, Hadjar found himself next to the tree.
His sword returned to its sheath by itself, and his palms, covered in scars and calluses, slowly pressed against the warm tree trunk. The birds were singing, the leaves were rustling, telling old fairytales and legends that had no place in this endless world. Hadjar felt at peace. All his anxieties and sorrows had faded into the background. His joys and moments of personal triumph were forgotten. He breathed smoothly and calmly.
He leaned his forehead against the tree, and for a moment, it seemed like his mother’s caring lips had touched his forehead once more. Hadjar didn’t cry, the burning, heavy lump wasn’t in his throat. He kept breathing calmly. His hands didn’t reach for his sword. His thoughts didn’t endlessly run ahead, weaving the threads of his grand plan and predicting the future. He just lived. He enjoyed the moment and its every detail, even if only for a split second.
Just like the tree that stood in front of him. It was always quiet, powerful, and calm as well.
Hadjar’s palms felt the branching patterns that decorated the bark of the tree with artful mastery. Every inch of it glittered in the light of the midday sun.
“The Tree of Life,” Hadjar whispered.
He knelt and lowered his forehead to the floor, not because he had to, but because he wanted to.
Once upon a time, when he’d been a child, he had listened to South Wind’s stories. The Scholar had told him that there were many miracles that had become legends and myths in this world, ones which people had betrayed and consigned to oblivion. One of these forgotten legends was about the Trees that had emerged from the depths of the River of Energy that flowed through all of existence. Their roots permeated the entire universe, even time and space. Their leaves contained the wisdom of thousands of thousands of centuries. Their bark contained knowledge about everything that had happened, was happening, and would happen.
The Trees of Life had been small sprouts with which Mother Nature had wanted to support her beloved children — everything and everyone who inhabited the world.
They weren’t gods. They’d appeared before and would disappear long after the last drop of divine blood from the latest Usurper of the Heavens was shed.
The Tree before Hadjar was young. Perhaps one of the youngest that had been born to the River of Energy and Nature. The Trees that South Wind had told him about had been giants, their crowns propping up the sky; their roots so great that, from a distance, they looked more like mountain ranges.
“General,” Hadjar felt as if tender hands had raised him to his feet.
They shook off the dust coating him, and, along with it, they also seemed to dispel all the darkness that had stuck to Hadjar’s soul over the years. The pain that the statue of the God of War hadn’t managed to take away. The fatigue that had been left after the endless wars. The sadness that had settled in his heart.
“Honorable Tree of Life,” Hadjar said respectfully. To an outside observer, it probably looked silly — a person talking to a tree. In fact, the creature that stood before Hadjar in the guise of a tree was wiser and smarter than anything and anyone else living under the Heavens. “May I take Elaine with me...?”
“Your sister,” whispered the charming voice.
Hadjar flinched, but tried to maintain his composure. If it really did know everything, then it surely knew about them being siblings.
“I offer my deepest apologies for disturbing your peace, Honorable Tree,” Hadjar bowed
