God's Tree-Chapter 102: The Trial of the Self & The first tree
The weight of the forest settled around them, thick and suffocating.
Argolaith knew.
This was it.
The final trial before reaching his First Tree.
Kaelred and Malakar stood beside him, their expressions unreadable.
But then—
A deep, resounding chime echoed through the forest.
A sound that wasn't made by metal—but by something older.
Something alive.
The ground trembled, roots twisting and writhing beneath Argolaith's feet.
And then—
The trees moved aside, revealing a single path.
A path that led forward.
A path that only he could walk.
Kaelred took a step forward, but Malakar grabbed his shoulder.
"Not this time."
Kaelred frowned. "What?"
Malakar's gaze was unreadable. "This trial is for him alone."
Argolaith exhaled, his grip tightening on his sword.
He had known.
The moment he stepped onto this path, he would be alone again.
Kaelred hesitated, then gave a sharp nod. "Don't die."
Argolaith smirked. "No promises."
And with that—
He walked forward.
The trees closed behind him.
The world around him shifted.
The trees blurred, their forms twisting into shadows of memories.
And then—
Argolaith saw himself.
Standing just a few feet away.
His own reflection, dressed the same, staring back at him with unreadable eyes.
But this was no illusion.
No simple trick.
Because when his reflection stepped forward, it spoke.
"Who are you?"
The voice was his own.
Argolaith drew his sword.
The reflection did the same.
Every movement, every breath—perfectly synchronized.
Then—
They clashed.
Steel met steel, sparks flying in the darkness.
Each strike was matched perfectly.
Every feint countered.
Every opening closed before it could be exploited.
This wasn't like fighting a beast.
This wasn't like fighting another warrior.
This was fighting himself.
And he could not win.
Time lost meaning.
Minutes.
Hours.
Every moment bled into the next.
Argolaith's arms burned.
His legs threatened to give out.
But his reflection never wavered.
It did not tire.
It did not falter.
And in that moment—
Doubt crept in.
What if he wasn't strong enough?
What if he had come all this way, only to fail?
His grip tightened on his sword.
He had to win.
He had to strike first.
He had to be faster.
So he lunged—
And his reflection mirrored him perfectly.
Steel stopped inches from flesh.
Both blades frozen in place.
Both warriors panting, unyielding.
And then, the reflection smiled.
Argolaith's breath caught.
Because suddenly—
He understood.
This fight wasn't about winning.
It wasn't about defeating himself.
It was about accepting himself.
He had spent so long fighting his limits.
Denying his weaknesses.
Chasing a strength that was never meant to be just about power.
He exhaled.
And he lowered his sword.
The reflection did the same.
And with that—
The world shifted again.
The reflection vanished, leaving only the quiet of the forest.
Argolaith turned, and before him—
The First Tree.
Its bark glowed faintly, runes twisting across its surface like breathing light.
The air hummed with power.
With something ancient.
Something waiting.
Argolaith took a slow step forward, his heart pounding.
He had passed.
The trial was over.
The air hummed with power, an ancient, pulsing presence that wrapped around Argolaith like an unseen force.
The First Tree stood before him, its bark a deep shade of twilight—a mixture of black and violet with faint silver veins running through it like lightning frozen in time.
Its roots stretched endlessly into the ground, thicker than any structure he had ever seen, anchoring it not just to the earth, but to something beyond.
The leaves shimmered in shifting hues, from deep indigo to the eerie glow of ghostly blue, as if reflecting a sky that did not belong to this world.
At the center of its massive trunk, runes spiraled and pulsed—ancient symbols shifting and rearranging in a language he could not read, yet somehow, he could feel their meaning.
This was no ordinary ancient tree.
This was something far beyond the world he knew.
Argolaith took a slow step forward, his breath steady despite the weight pressing on his chest.
He had made it.
He had passed the trials.
Now—
He wanted answers.
With steady resolve, he placed a hand on the tree's bark.
It was warm.
Almost… alive.
"…What do I need to do?"
The hum in the air deepened, the silver veins in the tree pulsing like a heartbeat.
Then—
A voice.
Not spoken aloud, but echoing directly within his mind.
"You have already begun."
The voice was neither male nor female, neither young nor old.
It was eternal.
Argolaith's fingers curled slightly against the bark, his mind racing.
"…Why am I not part of the Grand Design?"
A long silence followed.
Then—
"Because you do not belong to this world alone."
Argolaith stiffened.
"…What?"
"Your parents were not of Morgoth. You are blood-bound to the Greater Realms."
His heartbeat pounded in his ears.
"The Greater Realms…?"
"Worlds beyond this one. Realities that stretch past what you know. The Grand Design was crafted for those of this realm, but you—"
The tree's light flared.
"You were never meant to follow its path."
A weight settled deep in his chest, a truth heavier than any burden he had carried before.
He had always been different.
Always felt like something was missing—something unanswered.
And now he knew why.
He wasn't just of Morgoth.
His very existence was outside of its design.
Outside of the fate crafted for those born here.
"Then what am I meant to do?"
The tree pulsed.
Visit fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm for the best novel reading experi𝒆nce.
"Forge your own path."
Argolaith exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus.
He could not dwell on the unknown.
Not yet.
He still needed to understand the First Tree itself.
He let his fingers trace the glowing runes, his voice steady.
"What kind of ancient tree are you?"
The hum in the air shifted, as if the tree was considering its answer.
"I am the Tree of Eternal Night."
Argolaith felt the weight of those words settle in his bones.
"I am the embodiment of darkness that is not evil, of shadows that do not consume. I am the balance between light and void. Those who bear my power do not wield destruction alone, but the ability to harness the unseen, to command the abyss without losing themselves to it."
The runes along the bark shifted, revealing glimpses of what this power entailed.
•Control over the veil between worlds.
•Command of shadows and their intangible nature.
•The ability to move unseen, untouched by light.
•The knowledge to wield what others fear without being consumed by it.
It was not a tree of death.
It was a tree of what existed beyond perception.
A power that walked the fine line between the known and the unknown.
Argolaith clenched his fists, his mind racing.
"So this… this is my first tree."
The First Tree pulsed again.
"Yes. And its lifeblood will be the first piece of what will make you whole."
Argolaith reached into his storage ring, pulling out a fine silver needle and a small reinforced glass container.
He knew this had to be done carefully.
The lifeblood of a tree like this wasn't just sap—it was ancient power in liquid form.
If he mishandled it, he could corrupt the mixture or even harm himself.
He held the needle against the bark, hesitating for just a moment.
Then—
He pressed it in.
A single drop of deep violet liquid gathered at the tip.
It glowed, almost pulsating, shifting between liquid and something less tangible, like condensed starlight wrapped in shadow.
Carefully, he guided it into the glass container.
The moment it touched the bottom—
The air grew still.
As if the forest itself had stopped to watch.
Argolaith sealed the container tightly, exhaling.
One down.
Four to go.
He took a step back, staring up at the massive, glowing tree.
It had given him answers.
It had given him truths he wasn't prepared for.
And yet—
He felt more determined than ever.
He wasn't part of the Grand Design.
His own parents had come from the Greater Realms.
But none of that mattered.
Because he would make his own path.
Argolaith tightened his grip on the container of lifeblood, his gaze hardening.
The First Tree had given him its blessing.
Now—
It was time to move forward.
