The world was nothing but darkness.
Not the comforting dark of night, nor the drowsy dark of dreams—this was nothing, a hollowness so total that it hammered against the darken walls and swallowed even the concept of sound.
A scream tore the silence as Luther plunged downwards, waving arms, kicking at air that offered no grip. He spun in flight, scrabbling wildly for something, anything, to hold onto, but his hands only closed on nothing. A searing fear boiled up in his throat as he gazed down, far below, a momentary flash of light—a small one at first, but growing, brighter and brighter until it filled all.
He threw an arm across his face. The world cracked in white. The source of this content ɪs novel⸺fire.net
A soft sound broke the silence, as soft as a raindrop.
The fog cleared to reveal a massive root, large and gnarled, stretching into a shallow pool of stagnant water. Luther floated on its surface, half-submerged, his body rising and falling with each wave. His wet hair stuck to his forehead, his clothes weighted with dampness against his skin.
"Ughh..." Luther grumbled, opening his eyes. His head throbbed as if it had been hit by a hammer. Blanking out the haze, he leaned on one elbow as the other hand rubbed his aching temple. The water he floated in was icy, seeping into his bones, sending a harsh shiver through his body. He wrapped himself involuntarily, teeth rattling.
"Where... the hell am I?" His voice trembled against the silence.
Light, airy, almost childlike. It drifted through the air, close. Too close.
Luther spun around, eyes wide—only to come to a stop. Not in fear, but awe.
The pool reflected an impossible sight: flashes of light dancing like playful fireflies, their glow illuminating a magnificent trunk that rose above the reach of sight itself. The tree was huge, its trunk furrowed with age, roots slithering like rivers across the water. Leaves sparkled overhead, their color shifting with each movement—emerald green, sapphire blue, pale violet—like a thousand gems embroidered into a crown. The canopy arched above to a starry night sky somehow trapped within this cave, its light merged with the motes until the entire space glowed with otherworldly light.
Luther stumbled forward, water rippling outward from his motions. His breathing caught in his throat.
"This... this doesn’t exist. Not in Envelon. Not anywhere."
He reached out, putting the back of his hand on one of the roots. The surface vibrated slightly against his skin, pulsing as though alive. Power. Raw power. It crept into his hand and vibrated through his veins. He pulled back, stumbling.
"What... is this place?"
Before anything could be answered, the giggle came back.
A woman was sitting atop one of the roots, kicking legs swinging loosely. She was no more than a few years older than him, possibly younger, her hair streaming down as pale and shining as morning frost—though colored just the same blue as his own. Her eyes were shining a soft purple, jewel-like and unwinking. A green flowing cloak billowed around her as if caught up in a wind that caressed only her.
More startling than her appearance was her body itself: diaphanous, glowing like an image in water. Not flesh and blood, but presence.
"... a ghost?" Luther thought.
The girl tilted her head, then laughed. The laughter tinkled like glass. "No, not a ghost. Not quite."
She sprang lightly from the root, though her feet touched down on the water’s surface without disturbing it. Weightless as a feather, she glided closer, every action effortless. "You’re getting only part of me. A reflection, perhaps. I’m not here at all."
Luther stood stock still. "Wait... you just read my—"
"—thoughts?" She finished for him, lips curving into a wicked smile.
He came to a dead stop.
The next instant she was gone—then back behind him, arms around his shoulders in a playful half-hug. Cold touched his skin where she places her hands, though no pressure came upon them.
"Don’t look so scared," she teased, laying her head against his. Then out of the blue she kissed her lips very lightly against his cheek. A chill spark danced along his skin.
Luther sprinted ahead, nearly tripping. "Wha—what in the devil’s name was that?!"
The girl giggled again, stepping back to sit again on the root. The playfulness softened from her face, seriousness creeping in. "Don’t be afraid. My name is Alisa. Yarian’s daughter." She lifted her hand, pointing at the giant tree visible behind her. "And that... is my mother."
Luther stared after her, his heart racing. ".A tree. Your mother is a tree?
"The World Tree’s child," Alisa corrected gently. "A branch grown apart, yet tied to the source. We’ve existed here for ages, unseen by humans. Until you."
Luther frowned, rubbing his damp hair. "I didn’t exactly choose to be here. The motes brought me."
That made her blink. Genuine surprise flickered across her face. "...The motes?"
As summoned, the shining pieces swirled closer, surrounding Luther cautiously. Alisa fanned out her fingers, and a few drifted into her hand, sparkling like caged starlight. "Do you even know what these are?"
"Fireflies with too much energy?" Luther complained.
She shook her head, smiling with a weak smile. "No. They’re fragments of the world’s oldest magic. Prior to crystals, prior to mediums. Pure essence, untainted. They only react to what is real. Just as I am the Yarian’s child, they are the children of magic itself as well."
Her violet eyes were contracted as she stared at him, moving slowly about him. "Strange. they shouldn’t bunch this tightly around anybody. Especially not someone who’s got one of those chains hooked to him."
Her finger rose, pointing at the small crystal clipped to Luther’s ear.
Luther gulped. ".This device again."
The motes seemed to feel it too. They bunched closer together, tugging hard on the crystal. Luther winced as a burning agony pierced his ear. "H-hey! Leave it alone! That hurts!
The motes giggled. Actual giggles, echoing like mischievous children.
Alisa tilted her head. "They’re trying to free you. This place doesn’t lie—only true magic exists here. That gem taints yours."
"Free me?!" Luther yelped as the tugging grew stronger. He clawed at the crystal, trying to hold it in place. "Listen, I’d really prefer if my ear stayed attached—"
But the motes weren’t listening. With one final tug, the pin snapped free.
The crystal hit the earth with an unnaturally loud ring in the silence.
At the same instant, the atmosphere shifted.
Power burst from the tree, flowing towards Luther in waves of eye-searing brightness. It bound around him, spinning in a whirlwind, threads of blue and gold shrouding his body. The water frothed furiously, motes spinning in crazy orbits as if in ecstasy.
Alisa recoiled, gazing wildly. "Impossible..."
Luther swayed, supporting himself as the power engulfed him. It coursed into his blood, into his own flesh, burning and healing simultaneously. His chest rose and fell with hard breaths. For an instant, he thought he’d be torn apart.
Then the tempest passed. The motes lingered behind, suspended gently about him like sentinels.
Luther’s eyelids did not open. His hair floated a little, with a touch of light in it. His entire body hummed with deep strength.
Then—he slowly opened his eyes.
They blazed with an amalgamation of gold and blue, molten and infinite, spiraling like double galaxies.
A smile formed across Luther’s lips, although his voice was gentle, humming with added weight.
".Does that answer your question?"