Date: April 26, 542 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
A week had passed. Ulviya had lost count of the days almost immediately — here, in the white world, there were no dawns or sunsets, only a steady, diffused light that never changed. She measured time not by the sun, but by fatigue. By how heavy her legs grew after each march, how her muscles ached after battle, how the silver light on her left arm dimmed when her strength was low, and flared again after a short rest.
She had collected nineteen leaves. Nineteen tiny pieces of light lay in her pocket, and their quiet, barely audible singing had become as familiar as her own breath. She had learned not to notice it when she needed to focus, and to listen when she needed to calm down. They were part of her path. Part of the Tree.
The white desert, the icy cliffs, the transparent forest, the floating islands — all were behind her. Today she had entered a new region, and it had greeted her with the sound of water.
---
The Zone of White Waterfalls opened before her suddenly. She crossed an invisible boundary — and the world changed. The white earth, smooth as polished stone, stretched in all directions, and on it, at varying distances, sprawled waterfalls. They were unlike any in the ordinary world. Water fell from white cliffs that seemed unsupported, streaming down into crystal-clear lakes, creating no spray, no familiar roar. Only a quiet, melodic chime, like the sound of hundreds of tiny bells.
The water was clear. So clear that Ulviya could see the bottom of the lakes — smooth, white, without a single crack. She stopped at the edge of one, scooped up a handful. The water was cool, fresh, and when she drank, the fatigue of the long march eased a little.
She had found the nineteenth leaf at the foot of the tallest waterfall. The twentieth, by her calculations, should be somewhere here, among these white cliffs and chiming streams.
Ulviya walked along the lake, and the silver light on her arm pulsed steadily, confidently, leading her forward.
---
She saw the pedestal atop a small waterfall. White, smooth, it stood on a flat stone, and water flowed around it without touching it. On the pedestal lay the twentieth leaf — just like the others, silver, pulsing. Ulviya was about to approach when she froze.
Around the pedestal, frozen in a perfect circle, stood guardians.
There were twelve. They resembled those she had met before — tall, four-armed, with pale, almost translucent skin. In their lower hands, massive white shields. In their upper hands, long, curved swords. They did not move, did not breathe, simply waited. As always. The Tree was testing her. Again.
But now Ulviya felt no fear. Only fatigue. And a little irritation.
"Twentieth," she said aloud. "I've lost count already. Let me pass, and I'll take it quietly."
The guardians were silent. Of course they were. They had no mouths.
"You won't let me pass," she sighed. "Fine."
She stepped forward, and at that moment, the formation came alive.
---
The first guardian attacked immediately — its sword arced towards her head. Ulviya didn't dodge. She simply raised her left arm, and the vine, her living hand, instantly transformed into a wide, curved shield. The strike hit the center of the shield, and the thorns, extended to meet it, bit into the blade, tearing it from the guardian's hands.
"You lost your weapon," Ulviya said, and struck.
Her right fist met the guardian's chest, and it, without a sound, dissolved into a cloud of white dust. One.
The others didn't wait. They attacked all together, their swords flashing in the diffused light, raining down on her from all sides. But Ulviya moved faster. She evaded like a shadow, and her vine changed form every moment.
Shield — to block a strike from the left. Blade — to sever a second guardian's arm. Spear — to pierce a third through. Net — to entangle the swords of the fourth and fifth, preventing them from rising.
She didn't think. She felt. The vine was an extension of her body, her will, her desire to win. It grew, bent, struck, and each strike found its mark.
The fifth guardian tried to hit her with its shield, but Ulviya ducked, and at that moment, dozens of thin, flexible threads burst from her left hand — the white thorn she rarely used, but now it was needed. The threads struck the guardian's legs, and it, losing balance, fell to its knees. Ulviya finished it with a short punch to the temple.
The sixth and seventh attacked together, their swords crossing above her head. She didn't dodge. She threw both hands up, and the vine, bursting from her stump, transformed into a huge, spiky ball that exploded into hundreds of thorns in all directions. The sixth and seventh were riddled, dissolved into dust before they could even scream.
She looked around. Five remained.
---
The eighth guardian tried to attack from behind, but Ulviya felt its approach — the vine, her hand, sensed the vibration of the air. She spun, and her left hand, transformed into a long, flexible whip, wrapped around its neck. A tug — and the guardian dissolved, never even raising its sword.
The ninth and tenth attacked together, but Ulviya was ready. She crouched, letting their swords pass over her head, and at that moment, her right fist struck one in the face, while the vine, transformed into a thorn, pierced the other's chest. Two clouds of white dust rose into the air.
The eleventh tried to flee, but Ulviya wouldn't allow it. She thrust her hand forward, and the vine, stretching out dozens of feet, wrapped around its leg, pulling it back. A punch — and it was over.
The twelfth remained. The largest, with the longest swords. It stood atop the waterfall, by the pedestal, its faceless face turned towards her.
"You're the last," Ulviya said. "Come."
The guardian leaped down, its swords arcing through the air towards her. Ulviya didn't dodge. She stepped to meet it, and her left hand, her vine, transformed into a huge, massive hammer — made of thick, intertwined stems covered in thorns. She struck it in the chest, and it, unable to withstand the blow, dissolved into dust before hitting the ground.
Twelve clouds of white dust slowly settled to the earth, and the chime of the waterfalls, silenced by the battle, once again filled the space.
Ulviya stood, breathing heavily, feeling the vine on her left arm slowly return to its usual state — thin, flexible, almost weightless. She was unharmed. Not a scratch. Not a drop of blood. Twelve guardians, and she had handled them more easily than the first pack of goblins.
She walked to the pedestal, took the twentieth leaf. It was warm, pulsing, but no different from the others — the same silver, the same alive. She put it in her pocket with the other nineteen.
"Twenty," she said, patting her pocket. "Halfway? Or just the beginning?"
The leaves didn't answer. Only sang louder, merging into a single, complex chord.
---
Ulviya stood atop the waterfall, looking into the distance. White earth, white cliffs, white water — all of it was beautiful and frightening at once. She didn't know how many more leaves she needed to collect. Didn't know what would happen when she collected them all. Didn't know how much time had passed, or how much more would pass.
She was about to descend and continue on her way when she heard it.
At first, she thought she had imagined it. But the sound repeated — distant, barely perceptible, but distinct.
The clang of metal on metal. A dull, heavy thud. And through that clang, a cry — hoarse, bestial, inhuman.
Ulviya froze, listening. The sound came from far away, from beyond the white cliffs, from that part of the white world she had not yet entered. It was muffled, distorted by distance, but she recognized it. It was a battle. Someone out there, in the endless whiteness, was also fighting. Someone was struggling. Someone was seeking their own path.
Ulviya clenched her fist, feeling the vine on her left hand respond to her tension, releasing thorns. She didn't know who it was — friend or foe, ally or another guardian. But she knew one thing: she was not alone.
And that sound, distant, muffled, was a warning. Or an invitation.
She looked at the silver light on her hand. It pulsed steadily, calmly, pointing the way to the twenty-first leaf. In the opposite direction. Not towards the battle.
She shifted her gaze to the horizon. There, in the white haze, occasional faint flashes flickered — perhaps the reflections of someone's battle, perhaps a trick of her imagination.
She stood atop the waterfall, and two paths lay before her. One towards the next leaf. One towards where someone was fighting.
For now, she only listened to the fading clang of steel and felt her heart beat in time with that distant battle.