The corruption thins as we walk.
It’s subtle at first — the air less heavy, the wrongness less present. But then the change accelerates.
The blue flowers multiply, opening like they’re waking up. Wisps of frost drift upward, glittering in the strange half-light. The ground beneath our feet begins to gleam, dark earth shot through with veins of pale luminescence.
Pink motes of light drift past us like lazy fireflies. The air grows cooler but not biting — gentle winter, soft as a held breath.
Linda drifts closer to Kaia, curious. Carl tumbles past my ankles, nearly tripping me, clearly fascinated by the glowing flowers.
And then we see it.
“What the hell,” Finn breathes.
The tree.
It rises from the earth like something from a dream — massive, ancient, withered but beautiful. The trunk is as wide as four people standing arm-to-arm, bark gnarled and pale, shot through with frost that traces delicate fractals like veins of light.
It should be dead. Everything in Absentia is dead or dying.
But this tree… this tree is something else entirely.
No one speaks.
Kaia moves first, stepping closer with wonder written across her face. “How did we not see this?”
“Where the hell did this come from?” Finn echoes his earlier comment, but softer now. Almost reverent.
Torric shifts Callum’s weight, staring up at the branches. “Is this… normal Absentia shit, or—?”
Malrik steps forward, his eyes wide, his voice dropping to something low and awed.
“It can’t be…”
Kieran inhales sharply beside him. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Malrik nods once.
“Japti.”
The word settles over us like snowfall.
Finn raises a hand. “Okay, so… anyone want to translate the big dramatic word?”
Malrik doesn’t look away from the tree. “It’s ancient. I didn’t think any still existed.”
Kaia moves toward the trunk like she’s being drawn too.
Her hand reaches out, fingers brushing the bark, tracing the pale frost, the glowing veins beneath. The tree reacts subtly — frost glimmers brighter where she touches, spreading outward in delicate spirals.
The small shadows cluster around her ankles, calm and curious. Walter drifts closer, pulsing faintly with that strange starlight he carries.
A soft hum rises from somewhere deep within the wood. Like distant wind through hollow branches. Like the tree is breathing.
“It’s a safe place, isn’t it?” Kaia whispers.
Malrik’s eyes soften. “Yes. Japti means safety.”
The knowing hits me like a wave. I don’t know why, but it’s a need I can’t ignore.
