CHAPTER 68: The Seed of Tomorrow
The carriage rolled steadily along the old road that led back to the capital, its wooden wheels creaking softly against stone and dirt. The rhythm was slow and almost hypnotic, broken only by the occasional snort of the horses or the rustle of leaves as the wind brushed past the trees lining the path.
Inside, Zodac sat in silence.
His armored form filled the narrow space, yet his presence felt distant, withdrawn. His gaze drifted through the small window at the passing scenery—towering trees, scattered rocks, stretches of grass and earth that blurred together into insignificance. None of it truly registered in his mind.
His thoughts were far away.
They returned, again and again, to the mountain.
To what he had created there.
When he had placed his hand upon the core of that being, he had felt it—an unmistakable connection, deep and instinctive, as though something ancient had recognized him in return. It was not merely mana responding to mana. It was awareness.
That was what unsettled him most.
It had felt alive. Not in the simple way beasts lived, nor in the structured awareness of humans—but something older, quieter, vast in its own way. A consciousness rooted in stillness and time.
And yet… it had listened.
Zodac clenched his right hand slightly, the faint ache in his cursed left arm reminding him he was still there.
"A being with a will of its own," he murmured under his breath. "That might come back to haunt me."
For the first time since leaving the town, doubt flickered through his thoughts—not fear for himself, but for those he had left behind.
"I hope they follow my instructions," he said softly.
The tension in his shoulders eased just a little as he leaned back against the carriage wall. He closed his eyes, exhaustion finally catching up to him. The steady motion of the carriage lulled his senses, and as sleep began to claim him, his mind drifted back to the conversation that had taken place before his departure.
(Flashback)
The office-like room had been quiet, lit by sunlight filtering through narrow windows. Zodac sat opposite Vennessa and Mr. Eli, his posture straight, his expression uncharacteristically serious.
"in order To restore life to the forest," Zodac said, breaking the silence, "I had to take a drastic step."
Both of them leaned forward slightly.
"I gave awareness to a being," he continued calmly. "Her purpose is to grow, care for, and heal the trees."
The words settled heavily in the room.
Vennessa froze, her lips parting slightly as she struggled to process what she had just heard. Mr. Eli frowned, folding his hands together.
"A… being?" Mr. Eli repeated. "Then how will we know who she is?"
"When you see her, you'll know," Zodac replied without hesitation.
Only later did he realize how vague—and oddly cryptic—that had sounded. Like the words of some wandering sage rather than his own. Still, there was no mistaking her presence. No one who laid eyes upon that tree could ever confuse it for anything ordinary.
"But Sir Zodac," Vennessa finally spoke, her voice cautious, "if she protects the forest, how do we obtain wood for building and repairs?"
Zodac paused.
*She makes a good point,* he admitted inwardly.
"I'm not entirely sure what she's capable of," he said honestly. "Or how she might react to humans."
Mr. Eli shifted uncomfortably. "Then how do we show her respect?"
Zodac met his gaze. "Simple. Respect nature—and prove that you intend to protect it."
Mr. Eli swallowed. "Do we… offer sacrifices?"
"No!" Zodac snapped sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.
The cleric flinched.
"If she's a tree," Vennessa said carefully, "I could water her roots every morning and evening."
"That's excessive," Zodac replied. "Once in a while is enough. But even that alone won't suffice."
"Why?" Mr. Eli asked.
"Because," Zodac said gravely, "she is a sentient being. If you anger her… it may be the end of your town. Even I don't fully understand what she is capable of"
Shock washed over both of them.
"Then what do we do?" Vennessa asked, unease creeping into her voice.
"For every tree you cut," Zodac said, "plant two more."
They stared at him.
"That way, you show that you value life. The forest will never run dry, and balance will be maintained."
"That's all?" Mr. Eli asked, incredulous.
"You may also water her roots occasionally," Zodac added.
"I'll do it," Vennessa said immediately, raising her hand volunteerily.
Zodac nodded. "Then it's settled."
He stood. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way."
(End Of FlashBack)
The memory faded as the carriage continued forward.
Zodac's lips curved faintly upward.
"Things will probably be alright," he murmured, allowing himself a rare moment of trust.
As sleep fully claimed him, one word escaped his lips like a whisper carried by the wind.
"Eira…"
(Back at the Town)
The path up the hill was quiet, save for the soft crunch of boots against dirt.
Vennessa climbed steadily, a small watering keg clasped in both hands. The forest around her felt different now—alive in a way she had never experienced before. The trees stood taller, their leaves richer in color. Some still bore traces of dark green corruption, but many had already turned vibrant and healthy, basking in renewed vitality.
"Sir Zodac really is amazing," she murmured, awe softening her voice.
A sudden gust of wind swept past her, lifting her hair and brushing strands across her face. She raised a hand, laughing lightly as she tucked them back.
With the wind came petals.
Purple flowers swirled through the air like drifting embers, settling gently on the ground. Vennessa knelt and picked one up, her breath catching at its beauty.
"So beautiful…"
Her gaze lifted, following the trail of petals. Her steps quickened as she climbed higher, anticipation fluttering in her chest.
Then she saw it.
The tree.
It stood unlike anything she had ever known—massive yet graceful, its bark shimmering faintly, its branches adorned with glowing purple blossoms that pulsed gently with life. The air around it felt charged, alive.
Vennessa approached slowly, reverently.
"Sir Zodac was right," she whispered. "Your beauty is undeniable."
As if responding, a soft breeze stirred, and a single purple flower drifted down, settling gently into her hair.
She smiled. "Thank you."
Kneeling at its base, she poured water over its roots, careful and gentle. As she did, her eyes caught something carved into the bark.
"Eira," she read softly.
"Your name is Eira…"
The wind surged again, playful and warm.
"Nice to meet you," Vennessa said, laughing as her hair was tousled once more.
"I'm Vennessa."