Chapter 434: Talking Forest
He stepped out onto the balcony. From here, the city stretched like a dream, bridges of woven vine, houses carved into living trunks, rivers of light flowing through leaves. The elves of Lorienya had always been artisans of harmony, but now, subtle cracks of golden glow traced through their usual emerald mana. It wasn’t decay; it was change.
By midmorning, the glade once more filled with soldiers. But today, something was different. The air itself shimmered, responding to their presence.
When they stood, the grass beneath their feet glowed softly. When they exhaled, faint motes of light rose like pollen.
Thalan noticed it first. "The land... breathes with us," he said in disbelief.
Lindarion stepped into the circle. His eyes scanned each of them, tired, exhilarated, confused, but eager. "Good," he said quietly. "You feel it."
He gestured toward the nearest roots that broke through the soil. "Yesterday, you forced the Dual Flow into your veins. Today, it flows through Lorienya itself. The forest is responding, adjusting its balance to you."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. One soldier, a younger elf with freckles, raised her hand hesitantly. "Does that mean we’re changing the World Tree?"
Lindarion’s gaze softened. "Not changing. Reminding. The World Tree has always held both order and chaos within it. It grows in perfect symmetry, yet its roots twist and consume. You are not altering its nature, you are aligning with it."
Thalan’s staff glowed faintly in his grasp. "But... such alignment means the forest might fight us if we fail to hold balance."
"Precisely," Lindarion said. "That is why we train."
He drew his blade again, and the forest seemed to quiet. The wind ceased. The leaves stilled. Every soldier instinctively straightened, waiting.
Lindarion raised the sword above his head, and golden light rippled along its edge. "Form the Triad Circles," he commanded.
The soldiers spread into groups of three, standing at equal distances. Mana flowed between them, forming triangles of faint energy, unstable at first, then slowly steadying as Lindarion moved among them.
"The Dual Flow is born of tension," he said. "But harmony must be rediscovered through that tension. One of you will anchor, one will amplify, and one will disrupt. Each of you must learn when to be which."
The exercise began.
Mana surged. The air shimmered with conflicting patterns, green, gold, and pale blue colliding. Some groups collapsed almost instantly, their lines snapping.
Others managed a fragile equilibrium. Lindarion guided them with quiet precision, sometimes stepping in to redirect an errant pulse, sometimes letting the imbalance explode so they could learn from failure.
Hours passed. The glade became a storm of shifting light, each circle a small cosmos of discipline and chaos colliding. The ground trembled faintly underfoot, but instead of cracking, it thrived.
Tiny shoots sprouted in the wake of each mana surge, flowers that had never existed before, gold at their centers, green at their petals.
Ashwing hovered above the chaos, eyes wide. ’They’re... making the forest stronger.’
’The World Tree is adapting,’ Lindarion replied. ’It mirrors the ones who draw from it.’
’That’s not normal.’
’No,’ Lindarion agreed quietly. ’But then, nothing about us is anymore.’
By late afternoon, exhaustion finally claimed the soldiers. One by one, they collapsed into the soft moss, breathing hard, sweat glistening under the canopy. But none of them looked defeated. Their eyes shone with a strange light, part wonder, part pride.
Thalan approached Lindarion, staff dragging slightly. "They’re changing," he said softly. "Even their mana feels different. Less... bound."
Lindarion looked around. The glow beneath their skin was unmistakable now, a faint golden hue mixed with the natural green of Lorienyan heritage. "Change is the first step toward survival," he said.
"But what of the cost?" Thalan pressed. "Every power requires balance. What will the world take in return?"
Lindarion was silent for a moment, eyes distant. Then, quietly: "When I stood within the World Tree, it showed me that life and loss are two halves of one current. Whatever it takes, Lorienya will endure."
Ashwing landed beside them, shaking his wings. "I still don’t like it. Feels like everything’s watching us. Even the dirt."
Thalan chuckled weakly. "Perhaps it finally approves of your attitude, little dragon."
Ashwing puffed himself up indignantly. "I’m not little."
That earned a faint smile from Lindarion. "He’s right, though. The forest is watching. But it’s not hostile. It’s... attentive."
As the sun dipped low, the soldiers were dismissed. One by one, they left the glade, laughter mingling with the rustle of leaves. For the first time in weeks, there was joy among them, fragile, but real.
Lindarion lingered until the last had gone. The forest grew quieter again, though not silent. Faint whispers curled through the roots, not words, but emotion, a pulse of approval, perhaps gratitude.
He placed a hand on the soil. It pulsed faintly beneath his palm. "You understand, don’t you?" he murmured. "This balance isn’t just for battle. It’s for what’s coming."
The ground responded with a faint hum, a heartbeat echoing his own.
—
Night fell.
Lindarion stood on the highest branch of the great tree that overlooked the city. Below him, Lorienya shimmered, thousands of lights weaving through the leaves like a constellation brought to earth.
The elves were celebrating. Music drifted faintly through the air, soft and melodic, carrying the joy of a people rediscovering purpose.
Ashwing curled up beside him on the branch. ’You’re not joining them?’
’They deserve to celebrate freely,’ Lindarion replied. ’Without the weight of my presence.’
The dragon peered at him. ’You mean without scaring them.’
Lindarion didn’t answer, but his faint smile was enough.
Below, Thalan was among the crowd, laughing with his students. The children danced around bonfires, their hair glittering with starlight. Even Nysha was there, though standing at the edge as always, her arms folded, watching rather than joining.
For a moment, everything was peace.
Then the stars pulsed, subtle, almost imperceptible—, and Lindarion’s core stirred.
[ Core Expansion Detected. ]
[ Secondary Resonance Active. ]
[ Warning: External energy synchronization occurring. ]
Lindarion’s brows furrowed. "External?" he murmured.
Ashwing stirred. ’What’s wrong?’
Before Lindarion could answer, the leaves around them rustled, not from wind, but from something unseen moving through mana itself. Threads of golden energy coiled upward from the city below, converging toward the World Tree in the distance.
He could feel it, the same resonance as the Dual Flow, but magnified a thousandfold. It wasn’t just the soldiers now. The entire forest was responding.
The World Tree blazed faintly in the distance, its trunk shimmering with living light.
[ Warning: Lorienyan Network Integration at 23%... 24%... 25%... ]
Lindarion’s heartbeat quickened. ’It’s not supposed to react this fast.’
Ashwing’s tone sharpened. ’You started something, didn’t you? Whatever you did in training—it’s spreading.’
Below, the elves continued their celebration, unaware of the divine mechanism shifting around them.
Lindarion’s eyes flashed gold as he extended his senses. Through the roots, the rivers, the breath of the trees, he felt the living network of mana, thousands of threads pulsing in rhythm. All of them were aligning with him.
He whispered under his breath, "No... not align. They’re resonating."
The air shimmered around him, and for a moment, he could hear the World Tree speak, not in words, but in understanding.
You have awakened what was dormant. They remember your light.
Lindarion closed his eyes. "Then let them remember hope, not worship."
The pulse eased. The glow dimmed slightly.
Ashwing exhaled in relief. ’You’re basically talking to a planet now, you know that?’
’A forest,’ Lindarion corrected softly. ’But yes.’
’You’re so weird.’
Lindarion’s faint smile returned. "Perhaps."
Below, laughter continued. The city sang. The Dual Flow had not only changed the soldiers, it had begun to awaken Lorienya itself.
And as the moon rose high above the canopy, painting silver across his white hair, Lindarion finally whispered, "So it begins."
The night wind carried the words away, deep into the roots, where the World Tree’s pulse answered softly in kind.