Beastforged Bond

The World Tree’s domicile hadn’t changed much. Lifeforce flowed out of the ancient tree, feeding the once-dying dimension, keeping it alive and nurturing it. Thyria’s power would have fed nature in a radius of hundreds of kilometers, but the dimension was fragmented. It was held together only by her constant supply of lifeforce.

If she stopped, she, alongside the faes who had trusted her enough to follow her into exile with the World Tree, would die: Their existence lost to the void of the broken dimension.

Thyria could not allow that. She was responsible for her subjects. She had to keep them alive, even if that meant pursuing a path she had never wanted to tread.

The World Tree stood at the peak of her power, her reserves filled with the lifeforce needed to hold the fragmented dimension together for millennia. And that was the issue. Not the lifeforce itself, but what it did to her. Thyria was a World Tree, and she did what every tree did: she grew. But for centuries, she had grown too much. She continued growing until the tip of her canopy reached the outermost edges of the fragmented dimension two hundred years ago. She tried to slow her growth, to release more lifeforce into her subjects to keep them fed and content, but the fabric of the fragmented dimension was too frail.

The World Tree pierced the fragmented dimension, worsening the damage inflicted on a realm that had already begun dying millennia ago with every centimeter she grew.

She sought a way out. A way to escape exile, even if only for her subjects. But it was to no avail. The Spirits had forsaken her. Perhaps they had already forgotten her after all those cycles.

How was she supposed to rescue her people when everyone ensured she would never leave again? This was not merely an exile – It was a death sentence. A slow, terrible death that crept closer with every passing day.

Was this what the Primal Spirit had intended when he rooted Thyria to this place? Did he know that mere traces of Essence were all that held the dying dimension together when he exiled her?

She wondered about that often, and she hated the Primal Spirit for decades because of it. How could their father abandon one of his children so easily? But, eventually, she realized that wasn’t the truth. The Primal Spirit never truly made it to Razarn. Not fully. Only fragments of his consciousness remained–ghosts of his supremacy that descended upon Razarn while his true body stayed behind, fending off the Devourer and its Spawns for as long as he could afford.

Time passed slowly, but the World Tree’s hatred for those truly responsible for her fate never faded. It only intensified as the centuries slipped by.

And all that hatred erupted at once when the human child walked into her realm.

At first, she thought she was mistaken. Thyria sensed the arrival of the newcomers only faintly. Sometimes there was only one, then two. At times, she could feel as many as four newcomers. But the human? The human was not something she sensed at all, or she would have eliminated him the moment he barged into her domicile.

She wanted to kill him. She truly did. But the restraints placed upon her stopped the World Tree. They forced her to speak instead, to converse with the bird who had betrayed his own flesh and a detestable human child.

***

Their departure left her confused, uncertain of what she had truly hoped to achieve by trusting a human. Why had she done that?

“What are you doing here?” Thyria snapped in irritation, her head flicking toward a humanoid shape. It was a hulking giant, but its body was formed of magma and molten streams of lava rather than flesh and muscle.

“Can’t a brother come to visit his big, bad sister?” the molten giant asked, a smile stretching from one end of his faceless head to the other.

“That’s not how this works, Volca. Nobody visited me in the last – mind you, ever. So don’t even try to play the ‘good brother’ card. You were with the others when they imprisoned me in this dying dimension. Did you dungheads even know the dimension was going to split apart?!” she snapped.

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The smile on the faceless head vanished for a moment. “No, we did not know that,” Volca said. “Unfortunately, we also lack the authority to release your roots. Father’s Avatars, or someone wielding the Primal Spirit’s power, would be required for that.” He shrugged lightly, magma dripping to the ground.

“Stop leaking, you muddlehead!” Thyria cursed, lifeforce surging outward as plant life swallowed the magma smears on the ground.

“Anyway,” Volca continued, smiling once more as he glanced in the direction where the human child had stood only minutes before his arrival, “it looks like you’ve found a way out of here after all, sister. You didn’t need our help.”

“You saw that? Of course you did.” Thyria groaned. “And you don’t care a shit about the loss of one of your Voices? You left the bird to a literal child. A human. Why would you do that? I didn’t expect you to grow weak and senile with age. And what is that nonsense about finding a way out? That child won’t be able to do anything!”

As much as the World Tree tried to mock Volca, the Spirit of Fire merely smiled at her. He ignored her snide remarks, but answered anyway.

“Don’t you think that child is special? Is that not why you split your Essence and let him bind it to his own World? You felt his World, didn’t you?” He snickered. “I don’t know what Father is planning, but the child is part of his schemes, and you felt that as well.”

Volca waved dismissively, releasing more magma into the surroundings, which only seemed to irritate the World Tree further. That, in turn, made the Spirit of Fire even happier.

“Back to your question,” Volca continued. “The Elemental Phoenix was always a special fragment of myself. A will of his own formed after one of his resurrections several hundred years ago. But that is fun, isn’t it? Where is all the fun without a twist here and there? It’s not like I lost the Elemental Phoenix. He is still a part of me, just…different. I think you can tell what I mean.”

Thyria didn’t answer, but she did understand what Volca was referring to.

“You are connected to the child.” The World Tree shuddered, her trunk creaking as thousands of branches swayed and rustled.

“So are you.” Volca nodded, his tone shifting into something more serious.

“You have seen the Earthen Beast, haven’t you? I think the child called it ‘Earthheart,’ which is a fitting name, if you ask me.”

“I thought–”

“You thought Garus had returned. Even though you were present when Garus died, you believed he had returned in your absence.”

Thyria nodded. “I lost a part of myself that day.”

“You lost yourself after he died and your vengeance began. That makes it all the more interesting that you surrendered a part of your Essence to a human child. He has something unique about him, doesn’t he? In the first place, how is it possible for a sacred beast of the Earth to walk on Razarn when there is no Spirit to shape him?” Volca asked, smiling as though he already knew the answer.

Thyria froze as the pieces fell into place. “No… that can’t be.”

“Yet that’s exactly what’s happening. You felt it too. Don’t deny it.”

“But how?” the World Tree asked, her branches rustling anxiously.

“That,” Volca said, his magma body flickering momentarily, “I would love to know as well. Hence, I tested him, and he surpassed my expectations.”

As his body flickered, a halo of his true form unraveled, unleashing a titan towering beside the World Tree. A magma figure several hundred meters tall loomed for an instant before receding.

“He is a curious creature.” Volca regained full control of his shape in an instant, yet the desire–the longing–remained, infesting the air.

“What are you scheming again?” Thyria cursed.

“Me? Nothing at all. I will leave him alone to play for a little while. The human race’s playground has grown somewhat hectic these days. It’s quite fun to watch, to be fair. Their little wars will reveal his true nature. And with your little present, he should perform even better.” Volca let out a hollow laugh. “Child of Earth, Fire, and Nature. What a greedy little child.”

“You want him.”

“Of course.” Volca’s attention snapped to her. “And so do you. I know what you want. He is your only chance to survive. The only way you can even dream of escaping this hellhole. But that won’t happen. He will never rescue you or your subjects. Before he does, he will be in my grasp.”

“Unfortunately, I can only watch… for now. Pact be damned,” he mused, though that disgusting smile remained plastered on his face.

At the end of the day, it was only a matter of time before Volca could act once more. It could be months, perhaps even a few years, before mankind was foolish enough to break the Pact again. This time, it would shatter, removing the seals for good. By then, Adam would be ready, and Volca would reach out. He would make Adam his, even if it meant ripping entire Bastions out of the ground.

As for Thyria, she could only hope that everything Volca had said about the child was right. Because if her brother was right, the little human might truly be able to rescue her subjects.

If he can rescue my subjects… I keep him alive. Maybe.