Date: August 1, 542 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
The light that burst from the pile of silver leaves was not merely bright — it was alive. It pulsed, shimmered, breathed in time with something immense that lay beyond their perception. Ulvia stood, shielding her face with her hand, and through her closed eyelids she saw the light change — from blinding white to soft, golden, and then to a gentle, grassy green.
Datuk stepped back, squinting. Sobra flattened his ears but didn't retreat — only his nostrils flared, inhaling a smell that had never been here before. The smell of a forest. The smell of earth. The smell of life.
Rosh froze, his fingers, which a moment ago had been tracing a defensive pattern, lowered. He watched the light, and in his mismatched eyes — green and brown — something like awe reflected.
The process took no more than a minute. The light began to compress, condense, and where a moment ago a pile of a thousand silver leaves had lain, now rested a single leaf.
It was green.
Not like the leaves on trees in the ordinary world — this one glowed from within. A deep, emerald hue shimmered on its surface, and in its very depths, silver veins pulsed. The leaf was the size of an adult's palm, and it radiated warmth. Not heat — a cozy, living warmth that one wanted to absorb, to make part of oneself.
Ulvia lowered her hand. The light no longer blinded. Only the green radiance, even and calm, illuminated their faces as they stood in a circle.
Sobra approached, sniffed. The bear carefully touched the green glow with his nose, and his fur, silver-striped, momentarily flared brighter. He stepped back, sneezed, and looked at Datuk. His amber eyes held no question — only expectation.
Rosh was silent. He watched the leaf, and his fingers, previously relaxed, again formed a pattern — not for attack, for analysis.
"Energy," he said at last. "Pure, concentrated. There's more power in it than in all the silver leaves combined. If one of us absorbs this…"
"They'll become stronger," Datuk finished. "Much stronger."
Silence hung over the camp. Only the breathing of the four and the faint, barely perceptible singing of the green leaf could be heard. It sang — not in words, not in sounds, but in something else felt through the skin, the bones, the very essence.
Ulvia stepped forward. Her left hand, her living vine, reached toward the leaf, but she stopped it with an effort of will.
"We must decide," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "Who gets this leaf."
She looked around at her companions. Datuk stood with his arms crossed, his face unreadable. Sobra sat beside him, his silver stripes pulsing with his heartbeat. Rosh watched her with his mismatched eyes, and in their depths, there was no habitual cold detachment.
"We could split it," Ulvia continued. "Crush it, dissolve it in water, divide it four ways. But then the power will be diluted. Each would get a little, but no one would get enough to cross the threshold."
"And if we give it to one?" Datuk asked.
"Then that one will become stronger. Much stronger. Perhaps even advance to the next rank," Ulvia replied. "And then our whole group will become stronger. Because we are a group."
She fell silent, letting the words settle. The silence lasted a long time. Datuk looked at the green leaf, at Sobra, at Rosh, at Ulvia. Sobra sat motionless, only his ears turning, catching every sound. Rosh froze, his fingers suspended in the air.
Then Datuk exchanged a glance with Sobra. The bear nodded — short, abrupt. The dwarf turned to Rosh. He nodded silently in return.
"We've already decided," Datuk said, and in his hoarse, rasping voice, there was no doubt. "This leaf is yours."
Ulvia froze.
"What?" she asked.
"Yours," Rosh repeated. "You are a Warrior. We are Pillars. If you rise to our level, that will be a qualitative leap for the whole team. Right now we are three Pillars and one Warrior. We'll become four Pillars. Do you understand the difference?"
Ulvia understood. She felt it every day when they entered battle. She was weaker. Got tired faster, took longer to recover, could do less. A Warrior in a team of Pillars — that was the weak link. And that weak link needed to be strengthened.
"And if I can't?" she asked. "If this power kills me?"
"It won't," Datuk said. "The Tree didn't choose you by accident."
"Besides," Rosh added, "we'll share the next leaves in turn. First Sobra, then me, then this grumbler. You get the first one because you are our weak link. And we want you to stop being one."
Sobra snorted and nudged Ulvia's shoulder with his nose. In his amber eyes, there was no doubt — only certainty.
Ulvia looked at them. At Datuk — stubborn, rough, but loyal. At Sobra — silent, but devoted. At Rosh — cold, calculating, but honest. They weren't friends. Perhaps they never would be. But they were a team. And the team had made a decision.
"Alright," she said. "I'll take it."
She stepped toward the stone where the green leaf lay. It pulsed, shimmered, its warmth felt even from a distance. Ulvia reached out her hand — her right hand, human, without the vine. Her fingers trembled as she took the leaf.
It was warm. Alive. It vibrated in her palm, and the vibration echoed in her chest, her heart, the very depths of her being.
"How do I do this?" she asked, not turning around.
"Press it to your chest," Rosh said. "Or eat it. Or just hold it and let it in. The Tree itself knows how. Your body will tell you."
Ulvia closed her eyes. She felt the leaf — its warmth, its pulse, its hunger. It wanted to become part of her. To flow into her channels, expand them, fill them with power.
She pressed the leaf to her chest, directly over her heart.
The world around her vanished.
No white sand, no rocks, no companions. Only light — green, thick, it flowed around her from all sides, penetrating skin, muscle, bone. She felt her Vessel, narrow, cramped, begin to expand. Her channels, through which her energy flowed, cracked, ready to burst, but instead became wider, more elastic, stronger.
The pain was there — sharp, burning, but brief. It lasted no more than a second, then gave way to warmth. Not the kind that makes you want to sleep — invigorating, living, it spread through her body, filling every cell.
Ulvia opened her eyes.
The green leaf was gone. Absorbed, dissolved, become part of her. She felt it — there, in her chest, in the very center. It pulsed in time with her heart, and this rhythm, this new rhythm, was stronger, deeper than before.
"Well?" Datuk asked.
Ulvia looked at her hands. Her right — in an old, worn glove. Her left — the living vine, green, with silver veins. She felt them both. Not as before — more deeply. Every fiber, every vessel, every channel was open to her perception.
"Different," she said. "I feel… larger. Not in body — in something else. My channels have widened. If before they were a stream, now they are a river."
"Have you advanced to the rank of Pillar?" Rosh asked.
Ulvia listened to herself. Her Vessel was full. Not to the brim — but it was no longer a stream. It was a river. Wide, deep, it flowed through her channels, meeting no resistance.
"Yes," she said. "I am a Pillar."
Sobra made a sound — not a growl, not a snort, something in between, and in that sound was something like approval. Datuk grinned, slapped her on the shoulder.
"Congratulations," he said. "Now you're just like us."
"Thank you," Ulvia replied, and the corners of her lips twitched in a smile.
Rosh was silent. Only his fingers, folded in their habitual pattern, relaxed slightly.
"This is only the beginning," he said. "We need three more such leaves. For Sobra, for me, for Datuk. And then — the meeting with the Herald."
"I know," Ulvia said, looking at the white horizon, where beyond the rocks and wastelands their main enemy waited. "But today — a small victory."
She clenched her fist. The vine on her left hand responded — not moving, not throwing out whips, just becoming slightly denser, slightly heavier. Ulvia felt her power had grown. She had become different. Deeper. More real.
"Tomorrow — the next zone," Datuk said, sitting on a stone and beginning to check his axe. "Today — rest."
Sobra lay down beside him, placing his head on his paws. Rosh walked to the rock, leaned his back against the cold stone. Ulvia remained standing, looking at her hands.
The green leaf was inside her. It pulsed, breathed, waited. She knew — this was only the first step. Ahead lay new zones, new guardians, new leaves. For Sobra. For Rosh. For Datuk.