The morning light filtered through the open hatch in a single blade of white, striking the dust-frosted floor and the bundles of gear near the door. The hollow cottage smelled faintly of resin and old ash. A hammock swayed lazily from its hooks, holding Korr in a graceless sprawl, his narrow frame half-draped over the netting like a discarded garment.
Thalyn eased upright and stepped softly to the door.
Outside, the canopy stretched away like an endless green sea. The branch in front of the cottage was as broad as a city street, its ridged bark worn smooth by the tread of decades. Cold air caught her hair as she stepped out into the open.
Elara sat cross-legged on a smaller branch, hands folded in her lap, the wind tugging at her pale garments. Jaxon stood a short distance away, boots planted wide, arms crossed as he squinted into the horizon, eyes narrowed against the light.
Both turned as Thalyn approached.
“Morning,” Jaxon said, voice rougher than the wind. “This is your world, Ka’el. Better air than any station I’ve set foot in.”
Elara nodded, gaze distant on the sprawl of sky and distant crowns of other MBerthorne trees. “There’s peace here,” she said softly.
Thalyn exhaled through her nose, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “It’s safer than Nether,” she said. “But not entirely.” She gestured toward the branch. Tiny bark wyrmlings scurried along the bark’s grooves, scales flashing like shards of morning light. “The sphere’s lost its… effect. Critters are back. I’m not sure I can switch it on again.”
Jaxon’s gaze tightened. “Maybe don’t play with the artifact next time.”
Thalyn gave him a dry smirk. “Noted.”
Elara rose, dusting her hands. “We adapt,” she said evenly. “We always do.”
Thalyn nodded. “We stay above the Nether. It’ll take longer, picking our way over the branches, but it’s safer than slogging through the jungle below.”
Jaxon grunted and turned back toward the cottage. “I’ll wake him.”
Thalyn stayed a moment longer with Elara, showing her the nearby cluster of creatures: a nest of sky-gliders tucked deep into a bark hollow, translucent wings flickering like glass as they stirred. The Nyxara healer bent close, fascinated by the delicate ripples of their wings.
Inside, they gathered their packs. Korr was still rubbing at his eyes when Jaxon herded him out. The hatch thumped shut behind them with a finality only Thalyn seemed to notice.
She closed her eyes for a heartbeat, recalling the mental map. Revantis pulsed faintly at the edge of her awareness.
“That way,” she said, pointing toward a distant horizon.
They crossed the massive branch, boots crunching softly, until it narrowed into the interwoven canopy. The “bridges” between trees were not bridges at all but the living limbs of titanic trees, braided together by age. Sunlight filtered through the leaves in shafts of gold as they advanced.
The treetop territory thrummed with life. Patches of fungus sprouted luminescent mushrooms the size of shields, their glow soft and spectral. Vines hung down like knotted ropes, some hung with flowers that expelled glittering clouds of pollen when disturbed. Strange birds with glassy wings wheeled overhead, their cries ringing like temple chimes.
They moved carefully. At one point, Thalyn raised a hand and guided them in a wide arc around a tangle of branchlets where a territorial pack of sleek, antlered predators crouched, yellow eyes bright as lanterns in the shadows. The creatures did not attack but tracked their every step until they were well past.
The next trunk they reached was the last in the line.
Below, the miasma roiled. An ocean of poison gas stretched to the horizon, swirling like a slow storm. It was beautiful in its way, beautiful and utterly wrong.
“Left,” Thalyn said when they reached the fork of three branching trunks. The right-hand path plunged into a labyrinth of vines, where a distant, rolling roar made the wood tremble beneath their feet.
“I like left,” Jaxon muttered.
After several trunks, the path widened, and the sound of voices reached them. A village appeared, Kaelen homes built into and upon the colossal branches, some burrowed directly into the trunk itself. Rope bridges spanned the gaps, lined with woven lanterns, and the scent of root-bread drifted up from a communal hearth.
At the village threshold, a handful of young wardens stepped forward to block their way. One approached, an athletic youth with cropped ember-red hair and eyes like polished stone.
“What is your business here?” he asked, voice clipped, though not hostile.
Thalyn met his gaze evenly. “Passing through. We need to reach Revantis.”
The young man’s expression shifted. “Ysemlaer, our diviner, wishes to see you. He invites you to the temple.” He gestured gracefully toward the carved heart of the central trunk.
Thalyn glanced back at her companions. No objections.
They followed him, flanked by wardens on either side. The treetop village was a network of life and quiet labor. Children darted along the outer limbs, chasing dart-winged insects, women sorted baskets of vine-fruits and towering mushrooms, hunters stripped hides from scaled prey at the edge of a clearing.
The temple entrance loomed ahead, an arch of polished rootwood etched with glyphs, each symbol representing a saint’s grace. Inside, the corridors spiraled inward like the chambers of a living heart. Statues of saints lined the walls, their faces serene: Yvian the Patroness, Theron the Brave, Evadne of Mercy. The air was cool, touched by the faint sweetness of incense.
They reached a chamber simply furnished with benches. A tall Kaelen elder with iron-gray hair awaited them, his plain garments belying the gravity of his presence.
“Welcome to Vyrindel,” he said, gesturing for them to sit. “I am Ysemlaer, the diviner. You seek Revantis?”
Thalyn inclined her head. “We do.”
“No Ondari portal here,” he said gently. “You’ll find one in Cindraal, the larger village nearby.”
“We’re not aiming for the upper city,” Jaxon said. “We came out from a Breather chamber at industrial level. We need a Nether-level entry.”
Ysemlaer nodded slowly. “I understand. There is an outpost near the city. Vedran,” he inclined his head toward the red-haired warden, “will guide you there. But first…”
A faint smile touched his lips. “Midday meal is ready. Will you join us?”
The smell of fresh bread and broth answered for them.
Moments later, villagers brought in a table and laid out a modest spread: meat-and-root stew, mushrooms roasted with herbs, pitchers of cold water. They left silently, leaving the chamber to the diviner and his guests.
Vedran joined them after closing the doors, sitting with the quiet confidence of one accustomed to the heights. Conversation was sparse, but the food was warm and filling.
When they were done, Ysemlaer rose and lifted a hand. “Saint Orin watch your steps,” he said, blessing them with a spiral traced in the air.
They gathered their gear and followed Vedran out of the temple. The villagers watched them depart across a mushroom farm where caps as broad as shields glistened with dew. Farmers paused their work to raise tools in silent salute.
Beyond the farms, the network of branches continued. Vedran led the way with practiced ease, pausing now and again to warn of treacherous footing or to steer them clear of unseen creatures whose low, throaty growls carried from the foliage.
The sun was sliding toward the horizon, bleeding long bars of amber through the canopy, when they reached a smaller Kaelen outpost, a modest hut carved deep into the flank of an ancient trunk, not unlike the one they had left behind.
Through the gaps in the branches ahead, the canopy simply… stopped. The vast ocean of miasma stretched out beneath them, roiling and folding over itself like some titanic creature breathing in its sleep.
Rising from its depths was the dome of Revantis, a vast lattice of weathered alloy and ancient shielding, each hemisphere burnished bronze in the dying light. It loomed with the slow, eternal weight of a planet’s heartbeat, its surface veined with circuitry that glimmered like lightning frozen in metal.
For a while, none of them spoke. Even Jaxon stood still, jaw tight as he took it in.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrCExAIPtbp
“Looks… bigger from out here,” Korr muttered at last, voice small.
“Everything does,” Thalyn said.
The moment held, brittle and heavy, then broke. Vedran stepped forward, and opened the hatch with practiced ease. He gestured them inside with a small, courteous bow.
“Safe voyage to you,” he said, and was gone.
Inside, the space was narrow and smelled faintly of old resin. Jaxon leaned his pack against the wall and swept the room with a quick glance. “Rest,” he said. “We’ll need every hour before nightfall. I’ll wake you when it’s time.”6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡigBG8xBfWd
Hammocks creaked softly as they were strung up, mats unfurled on the worn floorboards. Jaxon settled at the entrance, rifle balanced across his knees, the late light cutting his scarred features into planes of gold and shadow.
Thalyn lay back, arms folded behind her head, eyes tracing the curve of the ceiling.
“Nice day, boss,” Arvie’s voice drawled lazily in her head. “Didn’t even almost die. We should make this a habit.”
Thalyn’s lips twitched. “Tomorrow will ruin it.”
“Tomorrow always ruins everything.”
One by one, the others drifted off to sleep. Only Jaxon remained awake, a silent sentinel in the doorway as the branches beyond the hatch stretched into shadow.
ns216.73.216.70da2
and then Add to home screen.