They flew for days.
Thae'Zirak glided across the sky with relentless grace, his wings carving through mist and fading sunlight. Below them, the land transformed—no longer barren, but vibrant and unsettling. Life had returned, but not gently.
Fields of silver grass shimmered under a sky too bright. Trees twisted with golden leaves rose like monuments. Rivers gleamed with liquid light. It was beautiful, but wrong—as if nature had become too aware of itself.
Kaelred noticed it first. "This place… it wants to be seen."
Argolaith didn't reply, but the feeling was mutual. The land beneath them felt like it was watching. As if the second tree was no longer calling him forward—
It was waiting.
By the sixth day, they could see it clearly.
The second tree.
It pierced the clouds like a living tower. Its bark was a deep obsidian laced with faint, green-gold light, and its branches spiraled outward in impossible arcs, reaching far across the sky like outstretched arms.
