Miko:

Sweat rolled down my temple, hitting my shoulders and bouncing off to the ground. The Garden had stolen three hundred and twenty-five days from me thus far. Today, my reflection stared back at me from a small pond of water that built up between the roots and the valley of trees. Rinsing my body clean of the dirt, mud, and stink that had been built up was an acknowledgment of how far I had come. My body had changed significantly in the relatively small amount of time consumed. The progress I had made would have taken four or five years of constant upkeep and nourishment to achieve outside of The Garden’s graces. With infinite stamina and my dedication to improving myself, I gained a more refined and muscular body. The muscle growth was noticeable, but I didn’t look like an elite adult soldier. In his tortured state, Maleki looked even better than I did, but I didn’t let that diminish my accomplishment. Although, that was an oddity of the effects of this place.

Every few days, I would sprint to the outer wall where we entered to check on him. His body had not worsened since we first got here. He was strong all my early childhood, and as we got older, he only continued that state since he had to carry me so often. During the trials, something dramatic happened with his form. Time had healed the wounds he had gained from the last trials, and now all that remained was his short breaths and bulky figure. What he accomplished in the trials was far more than what I had done here. That’s what kept me motivated — knowing that my goals were possible after watching him. He was also taller now than when we first arrived, a feeling I was also familiar with. My increase in height might be the only thing I surpassed him in, but even then, he was still taller than I was. We both had time left to grow and mature, and compared to our father, we looked small and feeble. Grandpa was six feet tall, but Father was just a tad taller. His form was blurred in my mind as I reached deep to remember the details. Maleki always reminded me of what he looked like when I had trouble, but all that got through to me now was a slender body and short, rough beard that was thick and full of coarse black hair. I let those thoughts fade; they didn’t matter right now as my mind prepared itself for the heights above me. Arbor Majikae, in all its glory, reached far into the distance, making me feel heavy and insignificant.

This time, I approached the wooden chip, equivalent to half the size of a wall in a house, and easily climbed its height with my first move. Both my arms easily grabbed at the gap between the thick wooden bark pieces, and fifteen feet had already passed before I knew it. Bypassing each piece of bark required me to pull all my weight up above the edge and then push up with my shoulders and forearms so that my foot could find a hold. If I had two working feet, this climb would be easy, at least compared to what Maleki had done at the foot of the mountain. The difference here is that I would be climbing a lot further. This wasn’t truly a strength or endurance trial because the climb itself would be easy for any experienced climber. The real challenge was the exponential rate of failure. It wasn’t if you made a mistake; it was when. What Khronos said about the trials at the very start would be my focus here. Slow and steady.

When the outermost layer of the tree was too tall and flat in one section for me to climb, I’d grab onto the ledge, holding myself up with only my hands, and then carry my weight over, positioning my hand over one reach at a time until the area above me was more suitable to climb. I could circle the entirety of the tree, hoping for the perfect spot each time, but hanging over the edge was not ideal, and I did my best not to look down as it was. My eyes stayed fixed on everything above me. Heights made me want to spill my guts out. A new fear I had unlocked during our descent on that stupendously tall mountain. I had gone my whole life without ever being up high, and I certainly wasn’t missing out. Now, here I was, fifty feet above the ground, climbing to what would undoubtedly be my untimely doom. If this tree doesn’t knock me off, something at the top is bound to. If not due to my own negligence.

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Those fears resided, and I was left to focus on my task. My fingers and palms scraped against the rough bark, becoming quickly calloused by the firm grip that was required to be maintained while holding myself up. There was an odd calmness in the air and my mind while I jumped around the tree. Is this what Maleki felt during his ascent? Oh, what I would give for us to do this together or not to have to do this at all.

Part of me wishes that I could have figured this curse out back on the farm; I had all the tools necessary to get better. They were all in this head of mine. Although, I’m not sure I could have ever slipped out of that mopey coma without experiencing all of this. Heartache and trauma, are they the only catalysts of change? A true change, I mean. Can a person really change who they are? You can appear different to other people, almost like a lie, but not only do you lie to the other person, you lie to yourself. Mostly, it is subconscious, like when I speak to my brother versus speaking to Khronos. Whether it is intentional or not, that’s just an outward appearance. The type of change I am interested in is the type that happens on the inside, the thoughts the mind and soul are only partial to. Could our father change? Can I prevent myself from becoming like him? His face was difficult to find at times, but his actions were too hard to forget. They embedded into my mind like a parasite, coming to the surface when I almost find peace in my mind’s storm. Our father was both bitter and sweet, but like an animal, he was quick to react. We never were sure what would set him off, but he would rage about until his senses returned, profusely apologizing for actions he committed while conscious. Recently, I found myself thinking more and more about those days with him and our mother before they left. I was too young to remember and too old to forget. They left us behind either for their own selfish guilt, or perhaps they thought they were doing the right thing, protecting us from themselves. I spent four years without my parents before we left the farm, and I’m not sure I miss them. For a time, I had, but Maleki and I were stronger without them. Their lie was that they were going to find a cure for me, but the ingredients and letters slowed after the first year of their being gone. Maybe I will understand their decisions more when I’m older.

I had let my mind wander again, losing focus, and my foot slipped trying to find a hold suitable on the bark panels as a wooden ridge broke. After the first hundred feet, my climbing tactic changed to fit my surroundings. Instead of skipping over the bark chips and climbing the joints, I could climb the ridges that jutted randomly around each plate. They were like snowflakes or paint that flicked onto a canvas, completely different from the other, and each one offered a route that changed in complexity. Two steps were all that was needed on each of these bark panels to move onto the joint holds. I was weary of the durability of these bark ridges, as climbing on them did not make me as confident as having my full weight over the joints between the plates. Moving quickly so my weight didn’t settle was the best option when climbing this way. This momentum protected me, moving me forward in the event one of these ridges broke. Had I settled on them as they broke, I would have fallen to my death, seeing as there is nothing below me to protect my fall. You can at least tumble down a mountain, but climbing this trunk was different. There was no other angle other than straight above and straight down. Now that I think about it, that might actually be a positive aspect of this style of climbing. The fear and pain would be quick until I splat against The Garden’s floor, whilst tumbling down a mountain was either certain death or it would leave you wishing you had died. I was starting to think like Maleki now, always finding the positive side of things.