Miko:

Visiting every branch, I explored the tree with a limp for several days. I sat with Ananke’s words, her wisdom. She was a great source of knowledge, but my mind was made on those many months of weary, lonely days and nights where Maleki and I lay comatose until I started to regain motor functions. Why did I have to be the one to wake? To have been the one to make this arduous journey. What was left of me after all this? Who will I become if I make the wrong decision or if it doesn’t work? There was worry in my heart, but I wasn’t dissuading myself, just predicting as my brother does. His mind would often race like this as I would watch him. Usually, it would happen in the middle of a conversation, and I would keep talking, pretending I didn’t know he was far away in another plane of existence. When I asked him about it, he would apologize and ask me to continue whatever I said. After a while, I would stop asking and continue to talk or tell my story. Maleki would walk or stand there in his own little world. Eventually, when I got older, on one occasion, I took offense to his distractive nature and demanded he tell me what was so important that he couldn’t listen while I spoke. He dodged the question, trying to ‘sorry’ his way out of the conversation, but I pushed the subject further. He told me he was thinking — that he was preparing himself. I began to understand after that. We had normal conversations, but for every ten we had, there was one where something was said that triggered his brain to react defensively and start predicting every possible scenario. That is his nature; he is a planner. I guess I’m more like our father, reactive and emotionally unintelligent. Perhaps that’s a fair trade to be better at understanding complex concepts. That is Maleki’s crux. When things become too difficult, he shuts down and keeps moving, unwilling to change his surroundings and ask for help. Well, I’ll help him. He won’t have to ask. Today, I will fix my brother.

After my journey amongst the tree’s domain, I found myself at the bottom-most branch. The colossal limb I had drug myself across a week ago. To bargain with a tree, I would only need to call upon it. She said I could speak to it as I did to anyone else. That’s a silly thing. Trees cannot speak, for they have no mouths to do so. Perhaps she was saying that in jest or tricking me for a laugh. She will get her pitiful laugh because I’m willing to try, at least. It’s still better than climbing down this tree.

Talking aloud, I felt embarrassed. “Arbor Majikae — great Leviathan Tree — I call upon you.”

Nothing shifted or moved. There was no voice responding to me. She had been playing me for a good laugh. I bet she was up at the top of the tree, flopping around in a laughing fit. The gentle wind caressed my shoulders, sliding off my bag as the bark vibrated softly around me, much like the apples when they hummed. The tree’s presence entered my mind. Was that a voice? No, to call it a voice or to call them words is too archaic. This was something much different. My head pounded as the language it spoke translated into my head. The process made human language and communication seem inefficient and straightforward. The words changed from symbols into a voice and words all at once, “Flesh beckons, and bark speaks.”

She hadn’t lied. The Leviathan Tree has a mind and will of its own. If she isn’t lying about anything else, I should be wary not to mince words with this tree. “I require your assistance.”

The voice filled my mind again. It was neither masculine nor feminine. The words and sounds sat behind my eyes and in between my ears. This was like the riddle at the doctor’s house. The tree had responded to me, speaking more sophisticated than Ananke and Khronos combined. “Beware a bargain with a tree; the price is more than just a fee.”

That’s foreboding…Ananke had warned me that making deals with this Leviathan Tree was not worth the profit. “Can you send me to the ground?” I asked.

There was a slight delay before a jolt of pressure was heavy behind my eyes, and the voice started to formulate again. “Our branches reach far, and roots run deep. Why should this be a request that we complete?”

“I want to go there and heal my brother,” I said, resting my fist on the ground as I leaned over and prepared for the headache behind my eyes to return.

“A purpose we do not reflect, a proper exchange you must state for us to accept.” The tree hummed. As it spoke, my fist could feel the vibrations in the tree from whatever power flowed through it.

“Your pain will end, and I want my brother and me to live. Is that not a fair trade?” I said in an argumentative tone.

With every passing wave of the feeling, I was growing more used to the side effects. “To die, this is not our wish; we desire our original bliss. The past repeats, sending us further into the abyss.”

“There is no pain or unhappiness after death. Does that not meet the definition of death?” I asked without reply. “Is there a way to heal my brother without stealing your fruit?” I pleaded. Killing this tree was not what I wanted, but if I were forced to trade it for Maleki, I would.

“Without life’s soul, we are not made whole.”

Was that a response to both questions? This is more difficult than I had prepared for. I asked, determined, “Can you be healed? I can feel it even through my bag. These fruits are alive, whose hearts beat with majik.” I paused, then asked a question I wasn’t sure about. “Are these fruits disconnected parts of your soul?”

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The vibrations in the tree were almost somber, low-pitched in their hum, reflecting what I interpreted as sadness. “Each fruit, an aspect of divine registry, forever separated, confined to abject misery.”

This tree speaks in riddles, but there is truth in words. This is all starting to make more sense. The parchment we read in that old doctor’s hut must have been made from the wood of this tree. This explains why we could hear the Leviathan tree’s voice and why the words were muddled into riddles. Kallen called it a prophecy, and it never left my mind. I recalled it from my memory; — ‘Often I am found, in the town between the kings and sound. Listen for the hum and carry with a krown. Judgment of earthen mound, and fiery crust around. To the garden, we are bound, with fruit of cursed ground. Cure the pain abound, a cost worse than death profound.’

The contents of the last line stuck in my mind. Ananke spoke of cost and what it meant for her family and herself. The tree called for people to come here and help it. Initially, I thought the cure was for my pain, but there never really was a prophecy. The “riddle” was just Arbor Majkae pleading for help. Learning that there was no cure for me here was why I had started to hate the tree. We traveled all this way, injuring ourselves and making ourselves worse off than we were before we set off on this journey. “What’s the cost of curing you? You didn’t stop me from taking the fruits, so send me to the ground so I can get this over with.” I spoke loudly in frustration.

The tree resonated around me, thinking of a reply. “True, we do not halt nor assist. Souls intertwine and we exist. We enlist those with heart and determination for us to persist.”

Exploring this tree, I saw the damage done to it by the theft of the majikal fruits. Parts of the limb were charred, infected, and covered in mold. This place was beautiful, and I bet it was even more so in its prime. Now, these branches and limbs were devoid of their souls. I know how to help this tree, but I must convince it to help me first. I can’t risk these fruits regrowing and becoming useless. “Arbor Majikae, I can help you. You called for someone determined, with heart. My brother, Maleki, possesses a strong heart, and I’m determined to fix him, and I will fix you as well. Help me, and trust that I will help you.”

“We have had faith in humans before. Let them explore, and the only rule they ignore. Now you request from us to implore?”

I responded quickly, “Primordials failed you — humans did not. I’m not asking for faith; I will trade you my trust. If I lie, your death will free you from your bonds to this place and the pain it brings you, but if I’m telling the truth, you will be better off for it.”

Again, the tree paused. Even the vibrations in this tree seemed to quell as it sat with my words, dissecting them. Suddenly, a few feet from me, the trunk opened like a doorway with no door. The tree spoke confidently, like when our grandparents let us leave the house to start this journey.

“Very well, we accept your promise, hoping you will lift the curse upon us, and grant a form of solace.”

There was no acknowledgment of the hole that opened in the trunk in their speech. I just have to trust them that this won’t kill me. A fair trade, I guess, we will each have to trust that we don’t bring the other’s demise. Taking several steps, my hand found the edge of the bark doorway and held myself back with a tight grip as I inspected the area. The hole led to a dark chamber in the middle of the tree. Before I could react, the tree pulled me in, ripping me from my grip on the bark. The doorway closed up, confining me into the darkness of the tree. There was no light to even see in front of me. The floor beneath my feet shifted as I tumbled from the Leviathan tree’s pull, unable to find sound footing and balance myself. “You said you would take me to the bottom, not imprison me here!” The floor adjusted, and the vibrations returned in the bark, filling my ears with one last hum.

“We shall, little farmer. This gift is for reading to us about arms and armour.”

Falling onto my rear, the ground pulled at my feet as the trunk warped around me. The ground was sloping downward, and I was descending. No, I was sliding. This was like being carried down a riverbed by the crashing waters that flowed. Arbor Majikae had given me a slide. When I was climbing, I had not realized the tree was conscious, and it was listening while I read. The mention of the book allowed the words to ring in my mind again; “…to not be consumed by his forge’s flames, he must decide the kind of blacksmith he will be. An Armer, or an Amourer.”

I resisted at first, attempting to grab onto the sides of the tree with one of my hands. The floor was slick, and I was moving too fast to grasp anything. I flipped my bag around to the front, using my working arm to protect the apples. I wasn’t falling, I was sliding, and it was fun? Trapped in the tree’s dark depths, there was no view of the ground, and that feeling that churns in your gut while you look down wasn’t there. This was actually enjoyable. I lay flat and let the tree carry me to the bottom. The process was quick, and I could feel myself dropping down the length of the tree at incredible speed. Every minute, my ears would pop as the pressure changed in the atmosphere. The air changed around me as I neared the bottom. Familiar smells filled my nose, those of the grass fields and colorful plants The Garden possessed.

A new doorway appeared down the slope twenty feet ahead, but my speed stayed the same. “Alright…” I laughed nervously aloud. “We can slow down!” I pleaded with a louder laugh as the mixture of fun and fear combined. Shooting out the doorway, the entirety of The Garden of Need bellowed out in front of me, the light blinding at first. A root carried me out further to the ground, slowing my speed. “Tha–“The tree cut me off as the root curled at my feet, sending me into a forced backflip, landing me hard on my buttocks in the soft, lush grass. “Thanks…” I said, blinking my eyes in annoyance. The tree had just pulled what is effectively a prank. Vibrations in the tree’s bark shot back up the tree, leaving me alone on the floor of The Garden. Well, it technically did fulfill my request, I thought while scratching my head.

Standing on both feet, I dusted myself off and checked for splinters. “No one makes a slide out of wood, ya know!” I spoke, knowing my words were likely falling on deaf ears. Trees don’t have ears, so how does this one hear?