Those instruments. A cacophony of violins, lutes, flutes - an ensemble normally reserved for bards - twisted into something haunting. Then there were words. The lyrics. Landry couldn't understand them, they were some foreign language. No. Not foreign. Ancient.

There he stood in a void of black, each wave of sound sending him adrift further on in the nothingness. What's happening to me?

The only light came from his lantern with its dim red glow; its whispers mercifully silent beneath the song. Yet there was another noise, something the melody couldn't mask. Screams. Pleas. Cries. Faint, but unmistakable.

He knew who they belonged to. Of course he did. How could he ever forget, even after all this time? It was a memory carved into his brain, an ugly scar. He wished he could forget it; he knew that he couldn't. Not again! I escaped! I was free!

The darkness began to lift, relinquishing its grasp on a scene below: a wasteland. Smoke coiled from razed houses, a distant city burns; its flames clawing at clouds. The roads empty of anyone, save for shapes - twisted figures - slithering between the ruins. Above the shadows remained, a rolling mass of black, shifting and alive, that lingered over everything with its tendrils reaching out. Waiting. Watching. Hunting.

The ballad continued, advancing him through the landscape like a river current; its mouth, the city on fire. However, before he could get close the darkness came for him again. Screaming. A tidal wave.

He tried to escape it, to push back against the forces driving him forward. But the music swelled, the lyrics booming in his mind, relentless. It wasn't enough; the darkness consumed him like an avalanche. The music faded, leaving only his own ragged breath. Then, warmth: sunlight piercing through his eyelids.

Sunlight pierced through a crooked window, blinding him as he opened his eyes, the houses gentle rocking from being on stilts meant that he felt quite queasy as he got up from the lightly stained rug he had fallen asleep on.What was that? I can't keep having these dreams... Orryn's quiet snores escaped from the loft above, and Mal was already down the ladder pulling her scarf onto her neck.

The gentle haze of pipe smoke from Orryn's father floated in the air around the room, catching the back of his throat. As Landry leant up rubbing his eyes a pair of boots was thrown into his lap, "Oh!"

"Can't be walking around without 'em. Picked 'em up from the market earlier." The raspy voice of Orryn's father explained from behind him, "Don't ruin 'em like your last now."

"Thank you, sir." Landry bowed his head in gratitude before inspecting the boots in greater detail. They weren't anything fancy, they were ankle-high, reddish brown leather with thick laces, though they had a few scratches and signs of wear across them. Second hand, probably. Works just fine for me. It wasn't the boots themselves but the gesture. A gift—a rare thing in his life. They weren't new, but for the first time in years, someone had given him something. That, he decided, was worth more than any polish or shine.

"I guessed your size, but you'd better put 'em on and give 'em a try." He said, making his way from the humble kitchen table into the main room and leaning against the wall.

With a nod, Landry pulled his cloak aside and brushed off his feet. Luckily, he had saved a pair of socks, albeit a pair that was more hole than fabric. Nevertheless, he put them on and slid his feet into the boots; Orvus Ossillian had an excellent eye, they fit perfectly. Wiggling his toes inside the cold leather he pulled the laces tight and began tying them together when Orryn began to make his way down the ladder.

"Well, look at that. Shoes." He said chuckling, his mess of blond hair bouncing with each step. "Was starting to think you didn't believe in them."

"Your father was kind enough to buy them for me." Landry replied, to which Orvus simply rose his pipe before placing it between his teeth once more.

"Hopefully you'll stop whining about being cold now." Mal teased between ravenous bites from a small piece of bread.

Pulling his sleeveless green cloak over his white robe, Orryn leant in front of a mirror as he started combing his hair. "We should get ready to leave; I hear the Duchess is a real time keeper..."

"Did anyone else sleep down here last night?" Landry asked abruptly, getting a strange look from everyone in the room.

"Why, of course. Me and Orv's room is just through that door over there." Nera, Orryn's mother, softly answered, pointing to a door that was slightly ajar. "Why do you ask?"

"I was alone then?"

"Obviously." Orryn answered, "I would have offered somewhere more comfortable but you sort of just collapsed there."

Landry shook his head, waving his hand in the air to dismiss it, "I guess... I must have been hearing things... Thought I heard somebody just before I went to sleep." Although he tried to forget it outwardly, he wasn't so sure in reality. Could he have been that tired to imagine something like that? I need to get a control of myself. I haven't had these dreams in so long.

"Oh, the whispers. Yeah, some people hear morbid things their first night in the city." Nera shrugged her shoulders, "Some say its the breeze rattling in the ear," she paused, glancing at the floor. "I think it's something... Older."

"Now I see why you're convinced there's little people in the trees," Mal chuckled, getting a laugh from Nera as well.

"Oh, I'm not sure about that but anythings possible dear. It's an odd place."

Placing down the comb, Orryn turned on his heel and made his way to do the front door, "We'd better be off, I hear it takes a while to reach the Canopy."

Nera made her way over with a satchel, "I've packed some things to eat. Can't believe my own school boy is off on meetings with nobility." She pulled the satchel over his head and shoulder despite Orryn's attempts at getting away through the door. No luck.

Mal made her way over to Landry, pulling him up quickly, "Up and at it, sleepyhead." She shifted his cloak to make it sit properly on his shoulders before pulling him past the table, Orvus and Nera - who both waved goodbye - and through the skewed rhombus of the doorway. Outside on the edge of Virevale, the wide forest could be seen below them, and it was only then that Landry realised. This tree towered above the rest—far taller, far grander.Why? Regardless of this fact, he was awestruck, the vast expanse making him feel both small and deeply connected to something greater. The line of trees was immense, the rolling tops of the canopies looked eerily similar to the waves he had seen in the lake far below. Behind, the distant water reflected the orange-pink of the sky like a warped mirror, shimmering with each gust of the wind.

As they made their way down the wooden steps, it was clear that this house wasn't original. It was newer than the rest, a hazardous addition to extend the occupancy beyond what was seemingly planned - hence why it hung precariously over the trees below. Its thatched roof was about the most solid thing of the entire structure, yet despite this it was a comforting site to Landry already.

Walking past the gate with one hinge and down Linden Loft Lane, the three were face to face with a much more lively street than they had witnessed the evening before. The market stalls were filled once again, but now small crowds of people were walking by - some actually at the stalls - off about their days, whatever that may be. The smell of roasted nuts and sap syrup mixed with the faint mustiness of damp wood filled their noses.

"Do you actually know how to get to the Canopy?" Mal finally asked, refusing to walk further without knowing where she was headed.

"Well, it's up, isn't it?" Orryn said simply, looking around for evidence of more lifts. There were tens of tether lines, but they either only went horizontally or only to slightly higher elevations - nothing even remotely nearing the height necessary to breach the leaf ceiling.

"Maybe we can ask for directions?" Landry asked.

Orryn shrugged, "Let's give it a try." He agreed, before making his way off to what looked to be a small stage, where five men in green robes were preaching about something. The one at the centre wore a crown of brambles and leaves. Before he could follow Mal clutched onto his arm, "So you're serious about taking him with us?"

"It's non-negotiable, Mal."

She put up her hands in surrender, "Fine. He doesn't seem so bad, folks are nice." Pulling him closer she whispered, "Just keep an eye on him, okay?"

"He's harmless." He chuckled, "But fine."

With a nod she let him go, before turning on her heel and walking down a different street. "Ask around, sleepyhead." She gave a wave without looking back, causing Landry to shake his head with a smirk. He made his way to one of the larger market stalls, it had all sorts of jewellery on display behind a glass wall.

"Hands in your pockets, not mine." The shopkeeper barked, a short man who stood on a footstool. He had a thick grey moustache and a monocle and was dressed very smartly indeed. "You looking for an engagement ring, young man?" He asked, subtly licking his lips at the thought of a potential customer.

He went a shade of pink, "Not exactly..." Landry responded, slightly distracted by the array of beautiful rings, necklaces and earrings. "I just wanted to ask for directions."

"Directions!? Hmph." The man sneered, standing up straight, being only marginally taller, and crossing his arms, "What do I look like, a guidebook?"

Landry looked up with an arched brow. No, you look like a gnome banker. You don't hear me complaining about that, though... He shook his head, before turning around to walk to a different stall.

"Hold on!" The man called out, "You're not going to buy anything?"

Turning around Landry reached into his satchel and pulled out three motes - bronze coins with holes in the centre - each held between the four fingers of his hand. "What'll this get me?"

Twirling the tips of his moustache with both hands, the man licked his lips again before breaking out into a toothy smile. "Well, that'll buy you some advice." He paused, gazing at the coins wistfully, "Some directions."

Rolling his eyes, Landry made his way back over and slid the coins onto the table, "How do I reach the Canopy?"

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The shopkeeper raised his brows, "W-Why on Aurum would you want to go to the Canopy?" He leant further in, "I'd suggest you don't." He whispered, gazing off to something behind Landry.

As Landry turned to check what he was looking at, he noticed that it was the group of green-robed men Orryn had been talking to earlier, but there was no sign of Orryn. Where'd he get off to? Dismissing it, he turned back to the man, "I've heard it's cursed. But I need to go up there."

"You don't need to do anything, boy." He sighed, "The only things up there are the nobility, the Palace and..." He paused, reaching onto one of his displays pulling off something. As he rose his hand, a gold chain hung from it. At the bottom was an ornate pendant, depicting a stylised tree with a single tall trunk and radiating branches that formed a circular pattern, like a sunburst. It looked to be made from malachite. "You know what this is?"

"A tree?" Is he serious?

"No, you fool..!" He thrusted it right in front of Landry's eyes, "Well, yes but... It's the Sigil of the Evergreen. Those people over there-" Landry turned his head to look at them, "Don't do that!"

He sighed, taking a breath, "The Duchess may control the sap of the city but those people control the people... They're Evergreens, of the Order of the Evergreen." He put the necklace down, "Mostly called the Church of the Tree, though."

"Why worship a tree?" He leant in to meet the man in the middle, only a few inches from his face. His curiosity was once again piqued.

"It's more than just a tree, son." The stall man paused, wiping his monocle, "It's Ys'thule. Some call him the 'Father of the Forest', or the 'King of Trees.' At the very least, he's our home."

"He? The trees a person, sentient?" This must be some elaborate joke.

"Not in the same sense as you or me, but he's alive. Don't you see how he grows? Doesn't break the buildings, but grows under and over them."

Yeah, right. "I still need to get up. Isn't there a way?"

"One doesn't simply 'get up' to the Canopy." He grumbled, "You get taken up."

"By the Evergreens?" Landry inquired, his eyes darting down to the Sigil.

"Them, or the aristocracy." He paused, looking back to the robed men behind as they began to walk away, "Now, I'm all out of advice. Unless you got more coin; I could be convinced." With a devilish smirk he slid his hand over to the motes, however he wasn't quick enough. Landry snatched two of them back, leaving one for the man.

"Hey, you thief!" He hissed. "We had a deal."

"A rotten one." He said as he pocketed the motes with a smile, walking backwards as he waved, "Profits a profit though, isn't it?"

The jeweller grumbled, "Next time you actually need a ring, my rates double for you, stray." He continued to mutter insults under his breath, but his voice faded as Landry made his way to the robed men on the stage. There was a small crowd gathered, each holding a similar pendant to what the man had shown him. Must be a bestseller.

One of the Evergreens had stepped off the stage, walking around the crowd with a silver platter. Each person he walked past put down whatever money they had in their pockets, most put one or two motes, but some of the better dressed strangers put down crescents and to Landry's surprise he even noticed on put down a talent, a bright silver coin half the size of his palm. As he went across he whispered something to every donor before dipping his index finger in a clay pot and spreading some green substance across their cheeks to mark them. It looked similar to the substance that had been used to burn the mirebark.

The Evergreens steps were heavy, almost sounding intentional as if to warn the next person along to get their coin purse out for him. With how straight everybody's posture was, it looked more like a shake down in broad daylight, many didn't seem overly comfortable with parting with their hard earned money.

Clud, clud, clud. Clud, clud, clud. Each set of footsteps, the Evergreen made his way closer and closer, creeping up like a hunter. Only he wasn't sure if the money was his prey, or he was. Finally, the man out-stretched the platter in front of Landry.

Looking down in surprise, he shook his head, "No, I'm sorry, I don't really have the money to spare." He painted an awkward smile on his face, but the Evergreen was not amused.

He had a long face with an even longer nose, and said nothing as he held the platter in front of Landry still. The people around him gave nervous glances and quiet whispers.

"I don't think that's true, seeing as you still got those two coins you said you'd give the jeweller." The man said from beneath his hood, his eyes hidden from view but the moving lips of his wrinkled face visible. How on Aurum did he see that? Wait, how did he hear our discussion? His eyes darted round, he was able to see under the hoods of the men on stage, and he quickly averted him once he saw they too were looking at him.

"How did-" he was cut off.

"Ys'thule tells us all that we need to know. You are in His domain, stray, and He demands recognition." The mans voice was deep and harsh, yet he spoke with a similar eloquence to Lord Belrose. He pushed the platter into Landry's stomach forcefully, "It will be in your best interest." Landry felt trapped in a cage of eyes, his throat getting dry. He was nervous, but he knew he didn't want to lose the coins he'd just regained. He didn't have a choice though, Orryn's warning of being 'thrown out' loomed in the back of his mind.

"Fine." He grumbled, reaching into his pocket and taking out a single mote, placing it with the large pile of others. However before he could pull his hand back, the man tightly grabbed his wrist. Why are people so touchy here?

"Ys'thule won't be fooled, boy." His voice rose, booming across the street. "The other one, as well."

Reluctantly, he reached into his pocket and threw the other coin, creating a loud clink. The Evergreen smiled, letting go of Landry, "Good, stray." He held the platter close, before moving to the next donor.

Great. Where has Orryn gone off to already? He moved through the crowd, stepping into the front row directly opposite the centre Evergreen who wore the bramble crown. Although he'd thought he had been able to see his eyes under the hood before, he was entirely mistaken. Instead, causing Landry's eyebrows to raise in confusion, each of the men on stage wore a blindfold. Strange enough, but what made Landry question his decision on coming over was the shadowed painting of eyes on the blindfolds, as if to fool anyone who might look up the hoods. To fool him. Fantastic... As he rose his hand to ask a question, he wasn't given the chance to.

"Have you heard His call?" Bellowed the crowned preacher, "Have you heard your Home calling out to you?" He didn't receive any direct answers, only people slowly shaking their heads and murmuring. A soft smile, probably an escape of emotion, creeped onto his lips as he rose his hands in the air.

"Of course, you haven't! You continue to ignore Ys'thule, our Old Father!" His hands balled into fists, his back slightly hunched, "It's pathetic! He demands your recognition!"

The crowd nodded nervously, many holding their hands pressed over one another against their chests. To Landry's shock, some even cried. They were utterly ashamed. What kind of god shames their followers? With a glance up to the men on stage, he wasn't aware that he was the only one who wasn't repenting. He stuck out like a sore thumb, and it didn't help he was directly in front of the ring leader. The man with the silver platter had finished his collections, and as he walked behind Landry he kicked the back of his knee. What the? His knees buckled, and as he collapsed to the ground he caught himself with the flat of his palms, painfully pressed against the rough wooden floor. I didn't leave Morden just to get treated like this again.

The man rejoined his brethren, and as Landry looked up he saw the satisfied smile on the preacher's face. Although his eyes were covered, his head was orientated directly at him and Landry swore that the man could see him perfectly. A creeping chill ran down his spine, reminding him distinctly of the stare he had gotten from Lord Belrose. His attention diverted to the silver platter that was passed to him, he nodded as if to say it was satisfactory and it was taken away.

What am I doing? He thought to himself, I'm not some thing to be pushed around. With his jaw clenched, teeth gritting together, he picked himself up again and dusted himself off. All the while, not glancing away from the man with the crown of branches. He felt mocked, like he had played an involuntary part in some play. The man at the centre, the lead actor.

The mans head whipped around as soon as he had noticed that the boy before him had dared stand again. His stare once more eating into Landry's nerves. His slender armed slid upwards, a long bony finger extended at Landry.

"You, boy." He began, his voice dripping with authority and disgust, "Come forward." His orders resonated through the crowd, all of which were looking at him. His words were like a sharpened blade, the people he commanded no more defiant to them than butter. Shaking his head with a chuckle, he made his way over to the stage. I can't believe this. His boots felt far heavier than before, his heart pounding in his chest but he forced himself to continue on. He paused at the steps, a slight shake in his leg.

"Come forth." The preacher commanded once more, his hand out-stretched with the palm upwards, "Our Old Father commands it."

He contemplated turning back, it was as much an option as continuing forward. He knew he had a choice, and the smart one was probably to turn back. Orryn had already spoke to these men, but he had his own curiosity, he had to know more about them for himself. Reluctantly he began his way up the steps at the side of the stage, where the preacher beckoned him to stand at the front.

"You carry a shadow," he intoned, tilting his head and cupping a hand at his ear as if listening to some invisible voice, "One that Ys'thule has marked."

Marked? Landry frowned, his fingernails digging into his palms as he tried to maintain his composure. Below, the crowds' mouths fell agape in mesmerisation, their fixed on him as if he were some divine spectacle. I don't like the sound of this.

The man once again raised his arms into the air, his fingers splayed out so far that it looked painful, "The Forest sees all!" His voice echoed, "And Ys'thule hears your heart!"

The crowds whispers erupted, each one turning their heads back and forth to whisper into another ear, and to let another whisper into theirs. Biting his lip, Landry realised that he was probably right earlier. He should have walked away. Even from this elevated platform, he still couldn't see Orryn anywhere. Where in the world did he go? Noticing his eyes scanning different faces, the Evergreen who had been collecting previously leant in behind him.

"Looking for someone?" He asked, glancing to the preacher who held out his finger to silence the crowd.

"My friend," Landry responded, his voice low, "He spoke with you earlier. A few minutes before me."

"The fair-haired lad?" There was a hint of concern in his voice, surprising Landry. Before he had been demanding, unyielding like a statue. Maybe he actually is human. He nodded, glancing to the man over his shoulder but only able to catch a glimpse of his hood.

"He was chosen." He prodded Landry in the back, "Just like what's going to happen to you." He grumbled.

"Chosen for what?"

The preacher turned his head, glaring at the man behind Landry as if he went off script before facing the crowd and clearing his throat. "Ys'thule has chosen this boy for ascension!" In a moment, the bystanders gasped and help up their hands. Some however seemed skeptical, and Landry was able to catch murmurs of: "two in one day?" Chosen? I don't like the sound of this.

The four men that stood behind Landry draped one of the same green cloaks that they were wearing, "Another joins our ranks!" However, before he could rip it off the four men wrapped their arms around him with a strength that surprised him immensely. If he closed his eyes, he might have thought a bear was hugging him. The air was squeezed out of his lungs, and as he struggled against them their grip only became greater. "Hold on!" He struggled to get the words out, "Let me go!"

The people below did nothing but gawk at the sight, they didn't dare question the Evergreens and Ys'thule's decision. The crowned preacher made his way to Landry, aggressively grabbing his face to make him look up. All Landry saw besides the lower portion of the man's face was his blindfold, looking no different than an old knit bandage. The painted eyes were unnerving though, in an unnerving position as if they were trying to open as much as possible. The man's grip tightened, pushing his thumb and index finger into Landry's cheeks, "Count yourself lucky, boy. The Old Father doesn't often pick strays."

"I'm not joining your cult," he hissed, his eyes glaring back at the painted ones, "You're mad."

The preacher rose his hand and slapped Landry across the face, causing the crowd to gasp in shock and leaving an imprint of the mans hand across the side. "You'll learn," his lips curled, "You won't have a choice."

"Get off of me, you psycho!" Landry yelled, before the hand of the man who had collected the money clamped over his mouth. The man leant in from behind, whispering: "I tried to warn you."

As Landry struggled against them, they began pulling him to the back of the stage, shushing him as if he were causing an uncomfortable scene. Which it was to the onlookers. Landry could see in their faces that this wasn't something unusual, their gazes averted as if they had seen the same thing far too often. Why isn't anyone doing anything!? He shook and he writhed, even trying to grab Seething but the cloak wrapped around him acted as more of a net. It was coiled around him, and as he was carried to the back of the stage the preacher tapped in a pattern. After he did so, the bark of the trunk slid away revealing a tall thin archway.

"In time you will realise how fortunate you are." The preacher spoke, "Not many are allowed to travel up to the Canopy." He leant forward, pulling a blindfold from inside his cloak, although this one had no eyes. "Not many stand out as you, though." He said, almost sounding satisfied, "We shall not tolerate defiance."

As the preacher reached out, he pulled the blindfold down, covering Landry's eyes and plunging him back into darkness.