The Myth

"Immortality is a myth. Go talk to a therapist."

Alabaster was dumbstruck by the bluntness of her response. His own response of "What?" stuck halfway out his mouth, which hung open in shock.

The lady in white carried on as if her statement was the most reasonable thing to say. "Ah, but I should introduce myself properly, since you did. I am Forestra Willow, though I do prefer Foss, or Miss Willow if you must be formal about it. Since your local tongue adopted forest from my name, it has become somewhat awkward to be called by my full first name."

Alabaster had recovered from his initial shock, but the implications of what she said held his tongue. Even having expected to meet a being as old as he suspected she was, the reality that was presented, and shoved in his face, was not to be taken in stride.

Foss turned and began moving towards another nearby tree. "Follow along now, I only have so much daylight to work with and if you insist on sticking around you shall not waste my time." Alabaster quickly caught up, she hadn't moved particularly quickly, or far before stopping again. Placing her hands on another sickly tree, Alabaster saw the faint pulse of life magic begin between her and the tree. "Like all dryads, I also possess a title representing my purpose in nature. It is: Gardener of Worlds."

"Worlds? Plural?" Alabaster managed, in the silence she had left.

"Yes, though it is mostly honorary at this point in history. As we only have the one world now." She spoke over Alabaster's attempt to ask the obvious question. "Yes, before the Fae left, we could also access their... world. A place where plant growth overwhelmed everything around it, growing somewhat out of control. The natural magic in that place was much more nurturing to plantlife. Myself and many other dryads were regularly employed to clean the place up a bit, earning me that title."

"Were there others?" He asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Hmm, other gardeners or other worlds? Yes to both. Though most other places did not require such careful tending that the dryads would provide, as they were the domains of gods. And gods don't generally let outsiders handle their problems, it makes them look weak. Most other gardeners... one moment."

She stopped and repositioned her hands on the tree, the dense liquid life magic showing on her palms again. Her slow movements seemed to require much concentration and care. This close, Alabaster felt the density of the magic as a heavy, almost sickening force upon him, catching his breath in his throat.

"Hmmm, there." the gardener said. "Many dryads chose to stay in the Fae wilds once it was common knowledge that they would be losing contact with our world. The gardeners that did stay took up other roles, earning them new titles. I believe that I am the last to properly hold the title." Foss gave the human a moment to digest the information before continuing, "You had questions about what I said earlier, about immortality, yes?"

Alabaster startled briefly at the reminder of why he was here. "Oh, yes. You say it is a myth? How can you deny it, when you yourself have lived so long. And what is a therapist?"

She glanced over at him at the last words. Her face a mask, "Surely you jest- ah! It is the word that catches you out. Therapist is a healer of the mind, your people must still have those, even by another name."

After a brief thought, he inhaled sharply "Ah, of course, we call them Counselors, yes I have tried many of those. Early on, they helped, but more recently, well. It is hard to take advice from someone a fourth your own age."

"Hgmm." Foss grunted in disapproval, then nodded in understanding. "Well it is good you tried that. As for myth, it is a word with multiple meanings, as most words are. Firstly, I mean it the way you understood it, immortality is a false name for a very long life. We cannot truly prove that you or another would 'live forever'. We can only say that you have lived longer than many others of your kind. Compared to me, you are still a child, and even I would not claim to be immortal."

"Truly, you would not?" the man asked in surprise, "but even our old stories say the dryads cannot truly be killed."

She bounced her head back and forth, considering, then her attention snapped to the tree in front of her, she carefully shifted her hands around again, moving with them to the far side of the tree. Alabaster remained silent, schooling his breathing to not disturb her work.

With something like a sigh, she resumed her stationary posture and replied to his questions. "This time, your corrupted legends do not lead you astray. Though our life cycles are quite complex, destroying a dryad's body does not kill her. We still prefer to preserve ourselves, like how I wear this suit to protect my own form from the blight."

Alabaster nodded slowly, considering her words. "You have some way to make new bodies, yes? How do you survive without one?"

She shook her head. "We do not talk about that with others. It has cost us too much grief in the past, many thinking it the key to immortality. With the passing of the gods it has faded into lost history, and I should hope you would keep it that way." She glared at him, her seriousness apparent even through her suit's mask.

"Of course." He gave a slight bow.

"That does bring us to the other definition of Myth. Of history, a tale of the past. Immortality was much more common during the age of the gods. Easier to obtain, catered to among society, immortals had the support and community they needed to handle their burden, as you put it."

"And now, there are no others?"

"The gods and the Fae took their immortals with them, which was most of them. Others lost their connection to what made them immortal. Others simply chose to die, knowing that their world was essentially over. Why live on in a destroyed and diminished world."

Alabaster held the silence as a moment of respect. He could not fully understand that line of thinking, but his own experiences did shed some light on the matter. "I think... no, I can hardly imagine that. Yet what you say rings with truth like none I have heard before."

"How many human lives have you put behind yourself already?"

"Three." his head hung heavy with grief.

Foss shook her own head. "So young."

Indignity spiked within the mage knight, but he held himself, knowing she was correct.

"If you would stand back?" She asked.

Alabaster's reverie shattered as he first failed to understand the request. "Oh!" He withdrew from the tree she worked on some distance, finding one of the wisps to wait beside.

The odd ritual proceeded much like the last. Leaving Alabaster with a litany of questions that he suspected the dryad would not answer. As it came to a close, the tree withering up before his eyes, an oversized branch broke above Miss Willow, falling directly onto her.

Alabaster gasped and stepped forwards quickly, as if to help, knowing he would not reach her in time. The Gardener of Worlds was unconcerned. Her free hand quickly moved to bat the bough to the side as though it was a simple twig. Alabaster froze at the display, further recalibrating his measure of her power and ability.

Finished, she waved to him to follow her to the next tree. "What you are missing is community and stability. Age tends to compress time, meaning the fluctuations of mortal life are too unstable for you, more so for us, which is one of the many reasons why we don't involve ourselves with humans."

She arrived at the next tree and hesitated as she went to put her hands on it. "You must decide how powerful your burden of immortality is. You could associate yourself with a whole family, not a single generation, but the line as a whole to maintain a connection to your mortal roots. Or seek out others who can live as long as you."

Alabaster shrugged, "I am here with you, am I not, is that decision not clear?"

"Yet I am quite old, there are many other dryads closer to your own age, which you might better connect with."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"Connect with? Would they truly? With my burden's magic, would they not fear me? Hardly something to build a personal connection on."

"Fear you? The youngest would be cautious, for certain. Most would be at first. No, I do not think my people truly fear very much anymore, but perhaps you still have a point." She paused and tilted her head in thought. The gesture warding him from speaking. "Very well, mage, show me what you can do." She motioned with a hand to the tree.

He began to protest, "I'm no life mage.." but swallowed his complaint and stepped up, placing his hands in imitation of hers. He still held his silk handkerchief which now got in his way. So Foss plucked it from his hand before he could stow it away.

"Hmmm, nice material, fairly well crafted, good use of the lesser enchantments. How long does it last?"

Distracted from his task, he answered "It can last a full blight expedition, so long as it is kept free from the death magic. That is usually their undoing, a snag under the metal plate touching off a slow chain reaction."

She nodded in understanding. "Yes, I can see how it would fall apart. Why not-" She cut herself off mid sentence. "Nevermind. Another reminder of how much knowledge has been lost, I suppose." She motioned back to the tree, encouraging him to get started.

He suspected she knew of much better enchantments, but that could wait for later, if she was even willing to share. He stared at the tree, trying to see the magic within. Seeing beyond was not one of his strengths. Mana Sight was limited in that regard. With some concentration and meditative breathing, he relaxed and let his senses wander into the tree. He slowly felt the shape of its magic, its life force.

He had done similar before, whenever evaluating a complex enchanted item, or trying to learn a spell from another mage. Feeling out the magic was the best way to do so, simply seeing wasn't enough. As his knowledge of the tree expanded, reaching into its roots and leaves, he also felt the edges where the blight had set in. The rough edges where the tree was being slowly poisoned. The next step would be to bring the magic into his mind's eye, to fully perceive it.

"Don't" The gardener commanded.

He stopped, his sense of the tree falling away.

"Do not even think to do that. To rip the magic out of a tree in front of me, in my forest." Her voice lacked anger but left no room for argument.

He looked around, at the dying forest. "Yes, ma'am. It wasn't..." he stopped his own whining excuses. "What should I do?"

"Good, asking questions. You should have done that before you stepped up to the tree. I assume you've never learned to talk to a tree- did they teach you any magical communication tricks?"

"Talk to it? I didn't think- didn't know they could talk."

"Yes, anything with its own magic can communicate, to some degree, though exactly how varies quite a bit."

"I've learned a few message spells in the past. Most mages don't use them, encoding and decoding is quite tricky and mana intensive when mistakes are made."

"Encoding, ah, no, no special code or language here." She shook her head and waved a hand. "Trees do not have language, they understand intent and sometimes feeling. Hmmm." She paused to think. "If these are new concepts to you, I must pity what is left of human's grasp of magic. We should grieve for what has been lost. Not now, however. Place a single hand on the tree and just feel while I work. Push a small amount of your own life mana into the tree, just the surface, to hold a link. They will cut you off if you pull on theirs."

He moved a hand to place it on the tree. "I- I don't have much life mana to spend so freely, given my condition."

"Firstly, you have far more life mana than others, given your condition." She said, a mocking tone just barely detectable over annoyance. "Secondly, you are not spending it, you are giving it to the tree, freely. That part is important. If you do somehow weaken yourself, I will restore your reserves."

"Creatures cannot share life mana, that is-"

"Ah, yes, please do explain life magic to me." Her mocking tone was quite clear now.

Alabaster opens his mouth to actually start one of his memorized lectures, reflexes from being a university professor kicking in, then he freezes briefly. "... Right, fine. I am coming to understand even the Royal Mage Knights are lacking in this field. I must ask you to nurture my comprehension."

Foss nods in response, then simply gestures to the tree.

While slightly annoyed by her, the royal mage knight was still in awe of the way the dryad talked about magic. There was clearly so much more to it than what he knew, what all of humanity knew. He did as asked, trying his best to sense the magic without grabbing at it. Their previous conversation set aside for this new task. He slowly pushed a little of his own life mana into the tree's bark.

The gardener of worlds stepped up to the tree, a quarter of the way around the tree, and behind the human.

He kept his back turned away, focused on mana sensing instead of mana sight.

Both stood silent and motionless, one performing a rote transplant of an at risk plant to a new pot that was free of disease. The other simply trying to watch the transplant occurring, or even the slightest shadows thereof. Alabaster was the first to move, shaking his upper body like he was trying to dislodge an uncomfortable burden, then relaxing himself and his grip on his mana, letting it flow freely into the tree.

A few minutes later, Miss Willow moved her hands to new positions. Mr Lions tilted his head slightly at the end, faintly sensing the change. The two returning to their stilled silence.

As the ritual ended, Alabaster inhaled sharply and pulled his hand away as if burned, shaking it out once then flexing it to relieve imaginary strain. He turned to watch Foss draw out the large ball of life mana. Again, he squinted reflexively and briefly moved his hand to shield his eyes before remembering it was both futile, and not actually the same danger as staring into the sun.

"So, what did you learn?" Foss asked afterwards.

"Mainly that my understanding of magic, and my mana senses are woefully pathetic."

She shrugged, exaggerating it to make the gesture clear through her white coveralls. "I didn't expect you to catch the whole thing. Did you sense the end approach?"

Considering, he answered slowly. "There was certainly a connection there, something like an emotion leaking through at parts. The last, if I had to name it, could have been contentment? Yet in the moment, I could hardly place it properly."

"Contentment is a reasonable descriptor. Leaking through is a poor frame of thought. That might be like saying that the wind is dripping on you. And I don't mean spitting like it is trying to rain, hmmm, alright poor choice of metaphor." She waved a dismissive hand. "Dryads do have names for some of the common intents that trees use." Her hand gesture changing to a wobble of uncertainty.

"I thought you said it wasn't a language?"

She dropped her arms, shook her head, and set off for the next tree she had planned on rescuing. "It is not. The trees do not use the exact same intents every time, they do not learn specific intents from each other even as shorthand. Our words are broad and encompassing, so as to not corrupt our own understanding of intent. Ah, but this is really getting too far into the weeds. I could lecture you for hours and you will learn less than simple observation."

"I can't say I am getting a whole lot from observation, deep sensing isn't my strong suit."

"You learned mana sight first then?" He nodded and she continued. "Both sight and sense, or mana touch are failed versions truly learning magic."

"You are saying I've still not learned magic properly."

She wobbled her left hand again. "This is a language issue, you don't have the proper words to accurately name the completed version of mana sense. The closest that I have heard is knowing magic. I do not look for magic, I do not feel for it, I simply know where it is around me."

Alabaster considered her words carefully. "I feel that I do not quite follow your metaphor, yet I get the impression this complete mana sense is quite powerful."

"It wasn't a metaphor. Yes it is considered a strong and very important skill to learn properly. Even during the time of Gods, many failed to learn it properly. But we are straying into lecture territory again, and truthfully, those who fail initially were considered a lost cause, so we should not dwell on this subject."

They had arrived at the next tree, and Foss gestured at it. Prompting Alabaster to take the same position to observe the ritual again.

"I will skip the futile language lesson of trying to teach you our words, but I would describe what you felt last time as a combination of contentment and ennui. It will be different next time, and every time after. Do not expect to sense anything, that will taint your perception of it."

She sighed again, in the same unnatural way. It sounded like a sudden gust through branches and leaves. It emanated not just from her, but also her wisps, just the three of them making it sound like the whole forest was exhaling suddenly. Alabaster found it distractingly beautiful. Unlike her speaking voice, he noted, which was almost too normal.

She continued, "Now, to combat potential overthinking, I want you to focus less on sensing. So to distract you, tell me how you learned of me. Who exactly sent you to me?"

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