"Mentor..." Colin's smile froze on his face.
He looked at Atbolde in the sunlight, his expression turning silent.
"I didn't expect you'd still be alive," Atbolde said softly, smiling as he caressed his own body. After a pause, he added, "And I never thought you'd come back to see me, Colin."
"Mentor, your injury..."
Colin's lips moved as he hesitated to ask.
He watched Atbolde intently, watched how, under the sunlight, the lower half of his body appeared diseased and tree-like in a brownish hue.
Atbolde wasn't sitting at his desk... he was growing.
His elderly upper body was bare, and from his lower abdomen downward, it had transformed into gnarled, thick tree roots.
A faint smell of blood wafted from the dark red junction of root and flesh, spreading throughout the study.
Atbolde lowered his gaze and didn't answer, only saying calmly,
"I'm about to die."
