A large raven perches on my arm. In its beak, it carries a wonderfully large bloom of Tender Rust. I pluck it from its grasp, and tear off one of the faux-leaves on the mushroom, slowly feeding it to the raven. I gently grasp a beetle from within the bud, and the raven takes it out of my hands without a second thought. Squeezing the stigma, the part that secretes the fungal honey, I gather about a glass’s worth of the red liquid, before sealing it in a glass bottle. I store it in my basket, and continue strolling through the forest.

Madarchen, too, has followed me today. The two of us have devised a plan to stop the hunger within the village. By presenting the druids of the village with a large offering of mushrooms, we can convince them of the efficacy and nutritional value of these special mushrooms. So far, they’ve only ever grown around the divine, withered tree of Coedraig. This imbued them with a sacred energy, which cannot normally be found in nature. The buds of the mushrooms resemble the very same fruits that the tree once produced. It is no wonder they are so nutritional, and sweet. By cultivating this mushroom, we can expand its scope, and thus the amount of food it can provide us.

And it is oh so addictive. Ever since I’ve given Madarchen her first dosage, she can’t seem to get enough of the stuff. Even now, she’s approaching me with a glint in her eyes. “Can I have that bottle of yours? I’m awfully hungry.”

I snicker a little while handing the bottle over. Without hesitation, she gulps the bottle down in one go, gasping for air after. Her pupils immediately widen, and her face flushes again. With renewed excitement, she plucks mushroom by mushroom, putting them in her own basket. Hers is almost overflowing at this point, while mine is only half full. My body is still so slow. The ravens have done most of the work for me, in exchange for some of the beetles that crawl underneath their blooming buds. They are loyal pets.

The raven on my arm takes off again, circling the tree of Coedraig with great vigilance. Recently, there has been an abundance of bugs inside of the rotten tree. This is, of course, great news for the many birds, who feast on the bugs themselves. In turn, when the birds die, they sprout buds of Tender Rust in the area again, thus continuing the cycle of death and rebirth.

The area within a mile of the tree has already turned red with its mycelial threads, having grown so quickly over the course of a week. I, myself, am able to commune with this network, of course. Doing so informs me of its spread, size, in- and outgoing nutrition, as well as the presence of various creatures in the area.

It’s taken a while to get used to this body. Fals, having died, has barely any functioning organs. I was afraid her body might begin to rot, but I have forestalled that issue by using the fungal honey as a temporary solution. It rids oneself of disease when alive, and forestalls decay in death. It’s a wondrous medicine.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

However, I find myself exhausted now. Barely able to walk, and certainly not able to carry this many mushrooms. It takes a lot of energy to control this body, exacerbated by the fungal bloom in my eye constantly desiring food. Madarchen hurries over to me, and we make our way to her cabin together. She lives on the very edge of the village, being stationed as a sort of border patrol and forest guard. She lived together with Fals for about a year, before the girl insisted on heading to the divine tree and praying for salvation from the plague and food shortages.

This is the third time she’s had to carry me back to her cabin from the tree today. “Madarchen… thank you. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“It would be blasphemous to dismiss the needs of our goddess, Lady Coedraig. The honor is mine.”

What a loathsome, long name. I’ve told her to cut out the “My Lady” part so many times already. “You don’t need to keep referring to me as “Lady”, you know. I’d prefer if you called me Madru, just between us two.” Yes, Madru. The name I had before I took on the mantle of Lady Coedraig.

“Nonsense. I wouldn’t want to give the druids the wrong impression. Besides, I've told you the name Madru doesn’t suit you.” She giggles. What surprises me is how well she’s taken to the death of her lover. I was under the impression it would take longer for her to mourn her fallen partner, but it only took a day or two before she scraped herself together. A part of me thinks it has to do with the fungal honey she’s been gleefully consuming. She get so… excited, when she’s had a dose or two. The effects it has on her are not entirely clear to me.

Tomorrow, we will head to the village proper to confront them with the solution to their problems.

Tender Rust. A tentative name, given by the druids. A fungus that spawned from Coedraig’s divine tree, and spread across the land quickly. According to Madarchen, many have called it a bad omen. It is our duty to reassure them that it’s safe, above all. We need to convince them of its medicinal effects and its value as a source of food. Its rate of growth is quick, it attracts many other animals as well. It has a place in this ecosystem. Or, maybe, the next.

Yes, death and rebirth. The ravens flying overhead are a portent of that future. They are such loyal pets, pecking away at the critters crawling upon my flesh. They caw, and they follow, unaware of the infection that bubbles inside of them.

Another raven drops dead beside us. In its eyes, a blanket of red threads. Its wings sprout yellow flowers. Madarchen is visibly creeped out by its visage, but I reassure her, even as the beetles already begin crawling over its rapidly-decaying corpse.

This is necessary for us to survive. You and I both, sweetling.