Jorge’s shout followed me into the sacrificial chamber of the tree. I squeezed my way through the ragged gash I had made in the foot-thick bark and stumbled to the floor of the artificial chamber, feeling the thick sap coat my hands and knees.

  As soon as I made contact with the liquid my core began to empty, and it only took two heartbeats to run dry. The mana capacity of a 2nd tier, no matter how prodigious, was as of nothing to what Jorge had been able to provide, and it could not sustain a working of this scale.

  I felt a sickening drain from within my soul, and my vision blackened as I dove within to visualise my soul-space. My core hung empty, no silver-blue starlight welling from within as every mote of mana ir produced was instantly sucked away.

  A golden root ran from my core up out of my soul-space, siphoning my mana towards a tree that towered over everything. It was similar to the way my pathbound skill shadowed my seven others, protecting and shielding them with its might. This relationship wasn’t quite so symbiotic though, as the tree drained all that I had, cracks already beginning to form within my core as it failed to keep up with the demand.

  I saw more golden threads heading my way, beginning to reach down through the liminal space that separated my soul from the world outside, creeping tendrils reaching greedily for the starlight within my whirling skill constellations.

  My skills were alight with mana, spinning and dancing through the void around one another, but they were hardly recognisable. Whatever the seed had done had transformed the chaotic jumbles of barely discernible patterns into complex tapestries of twinkling light. They burned like bonfires in the void, miniature suns in their own right, giving off a power and energy that seemed to call to the roots wending their way from the tree above.

  Even now, the seed was still refining my skills. A boiling, bubbling pool of energy dripped upwards from the seed in the centre of my soul-space, golden like the tree above and seeming to feed my skills. They expanded in response, connections between and within them thickening and piling atop one another, reordering and changing under the influence of the seed as it sought to change my soul in the way I had asked.

  I was surprised to note the vibrancy of the seed – shaped like the cross between an oak and elm leaf – that sat beneath my core, but perhaps I shouldn’t have been. I had asked the seed to change nothing, after all. I didn’t know what my companions had asked for, but I could well imagine the changes they would make.

  Sadrianna might want to mimic a great warrior like her mother, or a merchant like her father. Jacyntha might wish for a new class, unbound to the ritual that had crippled her skills for so long, and Nathlan would likely aim for a more magically-based truth seeking class, though that I was most unsure about.

  For my part, I had wished to stay true to my current path. I wanted the seed to change nothing, only enhance what was there, and so it did. But that was a less energy intensive thing to do, with no need to rebuild foundations that I had laid and steadied myself for many moons already. So it was that the seed seemed to have energy to spare, burning through its well of potential slowly as it refined my skills and brought them closer to my path, made them more efficient and expansive, even as it did the same to my body.

  I looked from the well of potential below my core, a leaf-shaped seed dripping golden light upwards, to the shining brilliance of the ever-hungry tree far, far above…and I had a mad thought.

  Fuck it, I’d said, as I’d decided to replace Jorge in the wooden cocoon. Or coffin, as might be more accurate. I hadn’t wanted to die, but I’d decided that I wouldn’t lose any friends, and we certainly weren’t going to lose the battle. I was here now, and clearly inadequate to the task, but I would use all that I could.

  The World Tree was legendary in the truest sense, its presence foundational to every culture and creation myth. Its bounty was a thing dreamed of by all with ambition; a golden ticket to power and a chance to change whatever they wished. It was madness to throw that away, but what did I care for it? I’d already planned to give up my life.

  As with all my plans, I decided to wing it before thinking any more deeply, and I grabbed the seed of the World Tree within spiritual hands and cast it out of my soul. It resisted desperately, still trying to continue its mission to the bitter end, but my will was iron, and intention was what the seed prized most of all.

  It slipped past the barrier to my soul-space, the process strangely like binding an artifact in reverse, and then it was spinning away into the void. I panicked for a moment as the golden root continued to greedily drain my core, but then it shivered.

  The creeping tendrils that had been descending towards my soul with such terrifying inevitability suddenly diverted course. They reached out jealously towards the beacon of power and grasped it. The moment they did, the root in my core shivered again and withdrew. It darted over to the shining seed to join its fellows, and soon the seed was lost from view, covered by dozens of questing golden roots as the living skill drunk deep of the World Tree’s bounty.

  I withdrew from my soul-space with a gasp and stumbled to my feet, turning to see the rent I had carved in the trunk now sealed behind me. I didn’t have my weapons any longer, and still my feet were submerged in the pool of sap. At any moment, the drain could start again, though I felt the tree growing and shifting beneath my feet, the power supplied by the seed clearly sufficient to kick-start the process once more.

  I gritted my teeth and flexed a fist, then I started punching the wood. My first few strikes were unpowered, my core lacking the mana to power Shatter Point, but with the drain gone, it didn’t take long for it to well within me once again.

  Every third or fourth strike I empowered with the skill, and they were the ones that shook the wood of my tomb. Blood ran in rivulets down the bark as I punched again and again into the shattered, splintered depression I was making in the trunk. I winced as I felt a knuckle break, and then screamed as a second joined it a moment later on my next strike.

  I panted, having broken through at least a meter of solid wood by now with my blows, but the pain was excruciating. Shatter Point was a powerful skill, more so now after the seed’s evolution of it, but I lacked the mana to use it with each blow. Still, I continued.

  With a roar, I slammed my first into stone-hard wood again and again, gritting teeth against the pain of my lacerated and broken hands and my aching core. It was no use though. I didn’t know if the trunk was thickening quicker than I could break through, or the chamber I was in was no longer on the outside of the trunk, but either way, I was spent and far too slow with my progress.

  I sagged to my knees, leaning against the blood-spattered wall before me and taking shaky breaths as my fists pulsed in time with my heartbeat. I heard a thud and frowned in confusion, looking about. A pause, and then the thudding came again. The next sound was a crack, like splitting wood, and I worried that the seed had run out of power for the living skill Jorge had conjured, and the now the even larger behemoth would fall to the ground, crushing the castle and the last hopes of its defenders.

  But then an axe blade nearly took my nose off, piercing the wooden wall before me before pulling away to leave a view of golden sky behind.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  A pale face, bright green eyes wild with panic suddenly filled the gap, and I heard Jacyntha’s voice calling out to me.

  “Lamb!? You in there?”

  I made to answer, but the axe slammed again through the gap once more and I had to leap backwards to avoid being cut by it. The gap widened, and I called out in relief.

  “Jacyntha! I’m here, I’m here. Get me ou-” I began, but her third swing had more power behind it now and split the trunk into a jagged gash at least six feet long. I saw the axe withdraw, and then a glimpse of Jacyntha letting it fall to the ground below before she was there.

  I had never seen such a beautiful sight, as the barbarian woman gripped the edges of the seam with both hands and ripped it open, great shoulders bunching and arms straining, her long hair matted to her forehead with the exertion of the act.

  I grinned in joy at seeing my rescue and took a step towards her as she spoke.

  “Hurry!” she shouted, beckoning me over. “The castle is safe, but Vera is still out there!”

  It was all the encouragement I needed, and after a quick check on my core, I dashed towards her. She had a single moment to look confused, and then I barrelled into her, arms wrapping around her thick waist, and then we were airborne.

  My mouth was already stretched into a grin, but the wind stretched my cheeks even further as we fell. I laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of what I was doing; falling, my arms wrapped around the waist of a furiously bellowing barbarian woman I had just tackled, who continued to shout in panic as we fell to the ground at least a score of meters below while an army advanced on the castle that even now was slowly being ripped from the earth by the titanic tree we fell from.

  The sheer insanity of it made it somehow easier to accept, and I waited almost patiently as we tumbled through the air, until, at the last moment I shunted mana from my almost empty core into Break-Step.

  I hit the cobbles with a groan, my momentum mostly stolen by the skill but the heavy form of Jacyntha collapsing over my back and driving the air from my lungs. We coughed and rolled to our feet, and I turned to watch with awe as Jorge’s skill, supported by whatever energy remained in the World Tree’s seed I had given up, continued to climb towards the sky.

  The trunk was now almost as wide as the castle itself at its base, and it must have topped at nearly a hundred meters high, spreading its great canopy far and wide to dominate the field. The castle itself had been uprooted entirely, and the inner courtyard we stood upon was currently a dozen meters off the ground, the keep wrapped entirely within the ligneous embrace of the tree which wore the outer walls like a bizarre dress around its trunk.

  I panted, feeling wrung out on a spiritual level, and my hands and fists abused and raw. Nathlan and Sadrianna were stirring, looking around in confusion as the golden light withered beneath their skin marking whatever transformation the World Tree had bestowed upon them now complete. Both felt different in ways that I couldn’t comprehend, though their power was undeniable.

  Jorge was unsteady on his feet, his face sallow and waxy and the healthy stockiness he had always boasted now missing. His armour hung limply, and his frame looked feeble in a way more than physical, like all the vibrancy and power he had once had was now long gone.

  Jacyntha stood beside me though, and she looked the opposite. She’d always been tall and powerful, but each nervous fidget now held a new potential. I was the same; other than my injuries, I felt better than ever, physically. I was stronger, more enduring, more agile…a whole host of benefits, subtle and extreme, and I had spurned most of the seed’s power.

  Jacyntha had presumably taken it all in, root and branch, and she buzzed with the euphoria of it, pacing and bouncing on the balls of her feet, great axe held tightly in hands that clearly craved action.

  “What’s happening out there?” she asked eagerly. “I wake up to find a huge tree, Jorge is wailing in angst and…” She trailed off, leaping over to the wall and climbing it in a few easy movements before staring out at the fields below.

  I ran over, stopping just long enough to grab my shield from where I had dropped it during my trance-like state enthralled by the World Tree. I strapped it on and followed her a few moments later with only a few winces and explosive breaths to alleviate the pain it caused.

  “They’re leaving!” Jacyntha pronounced with joy.

  I followed her pointing finger and saw two of the companies of soldiers wheeling away, turning towards the forests and hot-stepping it back to where they had come from. The remaining cavalry were still milling around the base of the titanic tree but considering that the castle was now a dozen meters off the ground, they didn’t seem quite as keen to attack it as before.

  The commander was down, identifiable in the unearthly golden glow of the false dawn above by his larger horse, fancier armour, and the clear deference with which several of his men were trying to pull him from beneath the body of his horse where it kicked and whinnied frantically on the ground, a massive bit of masonry piecing its chest.

  Half the mercenaries seemed determined to cut and run, and the other half were trying to convince the cowards to join them in dismounting and climbing the tree itself to get into the castle. That argument was made significantly less attractive by the arrows, skills and general death raining down from the rebels still manning what remained of the walls as they continued to rise in the air.

  All except one, that is. I watched a black streak leap from the wall and land on the back of one mercenary who had evidently decided to call it quits and was busy cantering away. Fandar, the gaunt figure unmistakable by the pale face I saw as his hood was thrown back by the wind as he fell, landed on the back of a horse, his hand shooting out to punch the soldier in front of him in the ribs three times, before the mercenary toppled off the horse.

  Fandar snapped the reigns and rode hard to the somewhat confused ranks of men and women, their previously neat companies now in disarray as commanders decided to leave. Vera had tried to tell me the plan earlier, but I’d been enraptured by the rising golden glow and the onset of the World Tree’s stirring, so had missed the explanation.

  It was pretty clear from context now though that their plan had been for the whole fucking world to change and that to spook the army enough to call off the attack. Had this been a singular army with a singular goal, the commander may have been able to push on with an assault regardless of the chaos, but with their competing priorities and interests, the Sunset Court split apart immediately under pressure.

  Each leader must have been panicking at the likely instability this event would cause within their own polities and most seemed to be of the mind that their presence, and that of their soldiers, was needed more acutely at home.

  Only a single company chose to fight on, staying grimly in formation as their comrades fled past them. Dressed in white surcoats over simple leather armour, they wielded an array of weapons as varied as the lands of Tsanderos itself, but all held position resolutely.

  Fandar was currently riding hard towards them, jumping from the saddle to stand on the horse’s back, bow drawn and losing arrow after conjured arrow even as the horse below galloped in a panic towards the ranks of soldiers.

  I soon saw why, as behind the ranks of soldiers arrayed in a loose horseshow, a battle between two fighters continued unabated. Vera fought against a mage of some sort in a bright white robe – unnaturally clean in the muddy field – with long, gloved hands waving hypnotically in the air like a pair of snakes above her head as she evaded my friend’s attacks with ease. Vera she was still on her feet with blade in hand, but there were no dancing flames surrounding her.

  I grew cold as I realised what was happening. I saw a few bodies strewn about in clumps, looking burned and ravaged by steel and fire both; evidence of Vera’s efforts to slow the approaching army. Now though, the remaining company – some hundred soldiers or so at a glance – had her surrounded, edging forwards with spears and polearms bared as they tightened on her in a noose of bristling steel.

  Even as I watched, she pulled her head back and screamed at the sky, blood-red fire spurting to life before the soldiers closest to her. They reared back for a moment, but then the woman in white moved her hands and the fire winked out abruptly.

  That they were willing to close in on Vera – The Butcher of Sternsbridge and a powerful 3rd tier warrior – could mean only one thing; The white-robed mage had her locked down tightly. Her strangely writhing arms seemed to pluck at invisible strings, snaring and binding Vera as the swordswoman tried in vain to cut through the magic holding her back and advance on the mage.

  And Fandar was riding in to help. The walls didn’t need much defending anymore, and sitting on the sidelines while someone else fought his battles clearly wasn’t enough for him. I cursed his stupidity even as I cheered his courage. The rebels would need a leader to protect the country from the coming storm if Vera fell, so him riding off to his likely death was a terrible move from a strategic viewpoint.

  But I couldn’t fault him for it, and Jacyntha seemed to agree, as she turned to me and grabbed me tightly in her strong arms, grinning manically down at me.

  “Come on, little Lamb. I need your cushioning.”