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Moments before the Deadwood Tree was released.
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Tuguslar sat on the lip of the opening overlooking the Heart chamber and casually swung his legs, watching the show below. He had to admit this ‘Lord Protector’ was more interesting than he gave him credit for. Tuguslar was looking forward to seeing how this all ended.
The sound of blowing wind cut through the storm above and the chaos below. Tuguslar glanced over his shoulder and spoke to the figure who had appeared with a smile. “It’s about time you showed you. You know, No. 7, I was starting to worry you’d forgotten all about me.”
No. 7 narrowed their eyes and stared at the back of the Akh’lut in human form. Their frown deepened. “What game are you playing at, Tuguslar?’
Tuguslar laughed and turned his attention back to the Heart chamber below. “Should I not ask you the same, Child of the Herald?” he said. No. 7 tensed, but Tuguslar waved them off. “Yes, yes, I know. ‘The Camp knows no history or past’ and all that jazz, ‘No.7’,” then in a softer voice said, “Not all of us can so easily escape who we are…”
Tuguslar pushed himself up from the ledge, turned to face No. 7, and stretched his arms wide. “But to answer your question; the same game I’ve always been playing. Even if it’s not the same game others are,” he said. He slowly walked toward No.7, grinning. No. 7 flicked their wrist and three long, glittering daggers shot toward Tuguslar’s heart. A moment before contact, a large hole opened up in the man’s chest, allowing the daggers to pass through, before closing up just as quickly.
No. 7 stared wide-eyed, and Tuguslar laughed. “That’s the funny thing about games. Everyone likes to think of themselves as a player, and everyone else the pieces. The truth is, we’re all pieces in someone else’s game. The king moves the generals who move the knights, who move the captains, who move the common soldier. Layer upon layer, each too focused on their own board to see the hand moving them.”
Tuguslar turned away and stared at the billowing black clouds swirling in the sky. “That’s true all the way to the top. There’s no escaping it. Maybe even the puppet masters on whose strings worlds dance are themselves only playing out their part in some grander scheme.” he turned back to No. 7, grinning like a madman, and asked, “Exciting, is it not? The thought that, no matter how insignificant our part may seem, it may be for the purpose of some all-encompassing design?”
Tuguslar shook his head and wiped away a tear. “Unfortunately, some, like my moth — no, ‘Hera’ — insist on being on top. They’re so blinded by their desire for meaningless power and station that they can’t see their strings being pulled. She walked right into Aunt Metis’ trap and couldn’t even understand how. Or maybe it was that child’s destiny nudging things along. Maybe those two are one and the same? Who can really tell? Surely not the pieces being moved into place.”
No. 7 smirked and asked, “And I assume you think you’re not one?”
Tuguslar laughed in response, “Oh No. I’m dancing like a good little puppet on my strings, just like the rest of you. The only difference is I can see those strings. And I’m excited to learn where they lead me.”
No.7 took a step back; the smile on this man’s face was… unsettling. “That still doesn’t tell me what you’re planning.”
Tuguslar paused and frowned, then nodded as he spoke. “True. That’s true. You don’t yet have all the pieces or see all the threads. No matter. You will in time. For now, you’ve come to fulfill your duty to Mr. Archimedes, yes?” Tuguslar flicked his hand and tossed something toward No. 7, who caught it out of the air. They opened their palm to find a small metal band.
“The soul imprint of the man who killed Archimedes. That should be sufficient for your contract, yes? I must say I’m glad I had the foresight to collect this before our mutual friend destroyed him. That was quite the sight to see.”
No. 7 frowned and scanned the ring with their senses. Indeed, it had the matching imprint and would be enough for the Camp to confirm the man’s death. They pocketed the ring and turned to Tuguslar. “This isn’t over, you know. You and your family betrayed the Camp. We’ll hunt you down as long as it takes.”
Tuguslar laughed. “Oh, no, no, no. You’re correct; this isn’t the end at all. Quite the contrary. This is just the beginning of something… grand. However, I’m afraid I can’t stick around to see the end, so our little spat will have to be settled next time. Do me a favor, though, and pass along a message to my dear mother for me.” A black orb appeared in Tuguslar’s hand, and he placed it on the ground in front of him.
No. 7 took that opening and charged. Faster than the wind, they flashed across the temple roof, their rapier glowing with white light.
Tuguslar only smiled and dodged the blow by stepping backward off the roof.
The man dissolved into black smoke and swirled upward into the dark clouds above.
No. 7 tsked, then reached down and plucked the orb from where Tuguslar had left it. They stared down through the opening in the roof and saw a ragged-looking Hera clutching Artemis by the throat.
“Puppets on a string, was it?” they muttered to themselves before stepping off the ledge and into the chamber below.
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If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
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Back to the Present.
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“DODGE!” Alpha jumped to the side, just as the large, black root shot forward. It clipped the TAWP with enough force to send it off balance, then wrapped around on the shadowy zombies nearby. It struggled for a moment before fading and turning to dust. On the other side of the chamber, dozens of other black roots knocked aside Guardians to grab at the undead, all emanating from the pulsing black seed at the crystal’s center.
The undead’s master, Hera, was looking a little dry herself. Her screaming had stopped, and her struggle was becoming weaker by the moment.
As Alpha observed the scene, a question appeared in his mind. “Why are the roots only going after the undead?”
Despite the root manhandling the gathered Guardians, they treated the humans more like obstacles than prey. He could even spot several thick roots pouring into side chambers through nearby doorways. They were likely searching for more undead if the distant screams were anything to go by. Only one human had been directly attacked after stabbing the root. The root had snapped around, grabbed his ankle, slammed him into the floor several times, and tossed him like a rag doll across the chamber. The remaining Guardians learned quickly after seeing their companion’s fate and made a hasty retreat from the roots.
Jīshí answered Alpha. “Cults of Iris don’t just raise the undead as their army. Their primary purpose is to feed the Deadwood Tree. The dark energy and suffering gathered by the undead are the perfect fertilizer for it. That won’t last for long, though. Once the undead have been devoured, it’ll target anything with spirit energy. After there’s no longer anything on the surface to absorb, it will it burrow its way into the planet and start to absorb the life force of the world itself. But that’s not the primary danger of the Deadwood Tree. Not at first, at least.”
Alpha dodged another barrage of roots. It was getting difficult to avoid them as they spread, given how large the TAWP was.
“I don’t know. This thing seems like a pretty big problem to me!” Alpha said.
Jīshí followed up her statement. “The Deadwood Tree is the dark mirror to the World Tree, the greatest source of Mana on the planet. And like the World Tree, once it reaches maturity, it will spawn a dryad. A Dark Dryad. An Avatar of Iris.”
Jīshí let that statement hang in the air for a moment as Alpha focused on avoiding roots. Some had started to curl around the TAWP’s legs, but they were still too thin and fragile to move him.
Jīshí continued after a moment. “That’s the ultimate goal of any cult of Iris: the descent of the Living Lich to the mortal world. If Iris occupies the Dark Dryad, this world is doomed. No force on the planet will be able to stop her, and no force outside will be able to help. The Deadwood tree will consume the planet and it will become another hive of undead, ready to strike out against the rest of the system.”
As the AI asked, one of the TAWP’s secondary optical sensors swerved and focused on Jīshí on his back. “Then what do we do? How do we kill it?!”
Jīshí smirked and folded her arms. “You don’t. It’s already dead.”
“Ha Ha, hilarious,” Alpha said sarcastically. “No, seriously, what do we do?”
Jīshí sighed and dropped her arms. “That wasn’t a joke… for the most part. Alpha, we can’t kill it. Under the Federation’s ranking system, a mature Deadwood tree would be a Class-SS life form. It would take a small flotilla of warships to kill it, truly. It took all four Prima and an army of Celestial Cultivators three worlds to stop it the first time. Even as it is now, barely awake, it’s possible only the Anatidae’s main gun would have any hope of putting it down for good.”
“… Fudge,” Alpha said.
“Indeed,” Jīshí responded.
A blast of laser turrets cut through the roots as they spilled into the large hole Alpha had made entering the chamber. The remaining Guardians made a break for the opening, supported by Artemis and her Elites as they escaped. Most had made it, distracted with the undead as the Deadwood tree was, but not all. The still forms of a few armored figures would be seen buried under the carpet of roots spreading across the chamber.
“What do we do then?!” Alpha asked,
Jīshí frowned. “The smart plan would be run. We reorganize and gather an army from across the globe. Then pray it will be enough to stall the tree’s growth long enough for someone outside to notice. However, the cult and the undead will instinctually protect the tree, so it won’t be easy.”
Artemis was the last through the gap before Alpha. The AI turned the TAWP and fired his turrets into the chamber, culling the rapidly growing roots that struck out at him.
Hearing the unspoken implication, Alpha asked. “And the not-so-smart plan?”
Jīshí hesitated, looking between Alpha and the broken crystal, before finally speaking. “The Heart isn’t just a fancy name. It’s my literal heart. Or at least the heart of the original me. The Heart, this city, the siphons. These were all designed by me and my siblings as a trap for the Deadwood tree. Even with all our power, we couldn’t kill it. So we attempted the next best thing: starve it to death. Trapped inside my heart, the seed couldn’t grow, and over the centuries, it has grown weaker and weaker.”
She stared at the crystal and frowned. “The price was heavy, however. The system demands astronomical amounts of energy. So much that it strips this very land and its people of their potential and causes the chaotic Spirit flows that plague it. But now the Heart is broken, and the system that supported it has been thrown into chaos. Even if we were to shove it back in the Heart, it would just break out again.”
Alpha nodded. “Pandora’s box has already been opened. Got you,” he said. “So what’s the ‘hope’ that’s left?”
Jīshí frowned. “You’re not going to like it… The system that supports the Heart is ruined. But all that really was, in truth, was just a power supply. Everything that made the Heart work, what kept the Deadwood tree sealed away, was all in the crystal itself. If we could find an alternative power source, preferably one with an exceptionally pure and cleansing nature, we could restart the Heart and seal the tree back inside…”
Jīshí left the statement hanging in the air. Alpha’s turrets continued to burn away the invasive roots. The tree had taken real notice of him now, and thicker, darker roots were trying to worm their way past him. After a moment, it clicked for Alpha.
“You want to use the TAWP as a battery?!” he yelled.
Jīshí sighed. “I said you wouldn’t like it, but hear me out. The energy infusing the TAWP frame is almost directly opposed to the nature of the Deadwood tree. It was the Phoenix and Dragon clans working together that finally allowed us to gain headway against the tree for the first time. You would also benefit from this, as the Heart will slowly drain the energy from your TAWP and ‘clean’ it for you. This is honestly one of the best ways to do that as well. The other option would be to adapt your soul to the energy, which would take far longer and be far more dangerous.”
Humanoid creatures made of black roots pushed themselves out of the inky black carpet covering the chamber floor and slowly shambled Alpha’s way.
Alpha paused. That was true. If the crystal could essentially ‘decontaminate’ the TAWP, that was a major pro in favor of the plan. However, there was one issue.
“I see what you’re saying, but you’re forgetting one problem. I can’t control that energy. You said so yourself!” Alpha said.
Jīshí grinned down at him and responded. “No. But I can.”