Golden Tree (6)
The sky, filled with starlight, falls.
The midday sun yields its place, and the clear blue heavens are swallowed by the shimmering curtain of night.
Night arrives.
The sun hides every trace of itself, and a night of nothing but stars descends upon the world.
Stars.
Stars pour down.
The Milky Way marches toward the earth, singing of the seed of a great miracle, dancing at the head of the procession.
Softly glowing stars trail long tails as they streak straight for the ground. The sight of countless stars falling all at once, each drawing a luminous trail, was a spectacle no single painting could ever capture.
"Th-th-th-that... that's—!"
"Ah... ahhh..."
Behold, you monkeys. Behold! Open your eyes wide and look carefully. This is the miracle of the great and most exalted Sixth God!
Countless lines are drawn across the sky—from above to below, from heaven to earth.
A cluster of light cutting through the black night sky. It was a revelation.
And at the same time, a miracle.
A fragment of omnipotence.
Every single star falling toward the ground carried a shard of that omnipotence. Thus the stars, cradling the tiniest possibility of miracle, settled gently down.
Saaaa—
The Golden Tree twisted its withered, gnarled branches with great effort, lowering them toward the stars. On those heavily bowed limbs, yellowed and desiccated leaves stood out starkly.
Then, like a thirsty soul drinking water, the Golden Tree accepted every last ray of starlight.
Starlight that landed on the leaves soaked in. Stars that struck the branches melted into them.
Stars that clung to the trunk flowed downward; starlight that reached the roots slipped silently inside.
"Th-the Golden Tree! The Golden Tree is—!!"
"The stars... they came down to the ground..."
And so it absorbed them.
It took in the tiny seeds of miracle the stars carried, held them within its body, and made them real. It accomplished what should never have been possible.
It realized a probability that converged on zero and brought into existence that which should never have existed.
That is why it is called a miracle.
The trails drawn by the stars became the footsteps of a god.
Those wondrous footprints stretched long, linked, and connected until at last they touched the Golden Tree.
And so a miracle occurred.
Hwaaaaak—!
Having taken the meteor shower into its body, the Golden Tree blazed with dazzling light. Was this the final flare of a dying life?
What final flare could ever kindle so clear and fierce a flame of life?
Everyone who beheld the miracle upon the earth understood. This was the Golden Tree’s end—and the celebratory fireworks announcing another beginning.
Oh... ohhh... Praise be to the Sixth God, most worthy of exaltation.
Tears streamed freely from Iver’s eyes. She bowed her head so deeply it pressed into the earth. A dragon’s pride? Arrogance? She folded them neatly and tossed them into the trash.
One who is like a parent. I praise You, I exalt You, and I lift my voice in prayer.
Thump—!
A powerful pulse resounded.
The Golden Tree, steeped in starlight, was gathering its final strength. From the branches that had spread like nature itself, from the roots that formed the very earth, from the leaves that unfurled like the sky—
A fierce wave of power echoed and gathered.
It was breath.
The Golden Tree’s final breath. The long, long period at the end of a sentence. That period meant farewell—and announced the beginning of a new sentence.
Beside the Golden Tree’s drawn-out period, a fresh green life began to bloom.
At the highest point of the Golden Tree, upon its greatest branch.
At its tip, a pure white, immaculate flower bloomed, and the bud slowly began to open. It trembled, stretched as if waking, shyly peeked out, and carefully reached into the world.
What appeared, rising like the sun, was a tiny Golden Tree.
The period finally placed beside a long, long sentence of time. And the new sentence that had begun to be written.
"Ah... ahh! Golden Tree, O Golden Tree..."
"Please... please rest in peace."
From among the bowed elves came the quiet sound of weeping. They, too, had accepted it now.
This was an unavoidable farewell, and its end had already been decided.
Crack— craaack!
Having poured out every last drop of its life, the Golden Tree began to lose its vitality even faster.
Its branches withered and twisted like bare bones; its leaves lost their strength, trembled, and fell.
Death approached. The unavoidable fate that treats all things equally strode forward with heavy steps.
The Golden Tree humbly welcomed it. In fact, it urged it on.
Why are you so late? Do you know how long I’ve waited? I’ve waited far too long.
...
Iver could feel the Golden Tree dying with perfect clarity. The divine power that had once been so vivid now resided entirely in that small sapling; what remained was nothing more than a faint residue.
Soon the Golden Tree would take its eternal rest.
...Monkey. If you have anything left unsaid, say it now.
"Ah..."
This is your last chance.
Squeeze.
Iver’s tail gave a gentle nudge to the distant chieftain, Alancia. Powerlessly, Alancia approached the Golden Tree’s side.
Unlike the other elves, Alancia neither shed tears nor wailed aloud. She simply bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, clenched her fists until they bled.
"I... I’m the chieftain... so... I have to... hhk. I have to endure more than the others... uuph! I have to hold it in!"
One step. Two steps.
Alancia slowly drew nearer to the Golden Tree. Her eyes reddened; her hands trembled.
Was it the weight of being chieftain that crushed her? While everyone else cried out and wept, she had not shed a single tear.
It was not that she felt no sorrow.
She had simply endured. Because she was the chieftain. Because she was the one who led.
Even when sad, she did not grieve; even when joyful, she did not rejoice.
"Ah... ahh...! Ahhhh!!"
A scream. A cry filled with sorrow and despair too deep for words rang out.
Once the tears broke free, they knew no end, blurring her vision. With trembling hands she forced herself to reach out and stroke the Golden Tree.
It was rough, crumbling, cracked.
Her heart felt as though it were cracking along with it.
"——————!!"
Alancia clung to the Golden Tree and wept without end. Like a child whining not to be left behind, she cried toward the Golden Tree.
The Golden Tree held her with infinite tenderness and warmth. And it whispered.
Do not be sad.
Remember that this is not an eternal farewell.
Be happy.
And—
Thank you.
Iver carefully cradled the sapling in her arms. She could faintly sense the Golden Tree’s will.
The Golden Tree wished for this sapling to grow in the Holy Land.
Monkeys. I will take the Golden Tree’s sapling to the Holy Land and plant it there. The Golden Tree itself desires this. Now—what will you do?
Alancia, eyes swollen, blew her nose with a loud snort. The aftertaste of grief still lingered; her eyes remained red.
"W-we—sniff—if the Sixth God will accept us, we wish to serve beneath Him for the rest of our lives."
The Great One possesses a heart broader than the vast sky, as boundless as the sea. If you truly desire it, it shall be so.
Careful not to let even a single leaf of the sapling fall, Iver lowered her body.
Not understanding her intent, the elves simply stared blankly at one another.
Haa... Climb onto my back, monkeys. Ordinarily I would never carry just anyone... but this once, for the Golden Tree’s sake, I shall make a special exception.
"Ah... ahh!"
"Lady Iver, could you wait just a moment—only a brief moment? We should at least pack a few essentials—"
I don’t mind.
Iver hugged the sapling close and flopped down onto the ground. Alancia shouted loudly to the elves.
"Everyone, take only what you truly need and come back quickly! Only the absolute essentials!"
Only then did the elves scramble into motion, leaping nimbly from branch to branch and diving into their hollowed tree-homes.
No matter how insistently Alancia had told them to pack lightly, the elves emerging from the hollows came out like hamsters with cheeks stuffed full of seeds, arms loaded with all sorts of things.
Of course, Alancia did not let it slide.
"What is this?"
"It’s the clothes hanger I’ve used since I was little!"
"...Throw it away. And what’s this?"
"Ah, that’s an incredibly sturdy, straight branch I picked up yesterday from the five-direction tree—"
Whoosh.
"Ah—aaah! My holy sword, ‘The Sky Flame Walker Fury’!!"
"Haa. Stop fooling around and pack properly."
In that fashion, countless odds and ends were discarded by Alancia’s hand, and the elves, grumbling, climbed onto Iver’s back with only the lightest of loads.
"Hey, hey. Want some? I snuck these fruits past the chieftain—they’re super sweet."
"Really? Give me one... pfft, ptooey!! They’re astringent! How is this sweet?!"
"Hmm. So these ones aren’t for eating."
An atmosphere so light it made the earlier sorrow feel like a lie.
Perhaps this deliberate lightness was their own way of forgetting the grief.
You monkeys even play exactly like monkeys.
"...I’ve shown you an embarrassing sight."
And yet, for some reason, the inexplicable shame fell solely upon Alancia.
One by one the elves climbed onto Iver’s back. The last remaining were Chieftain Alancia and Estel. As if lingering regrets or unspoken words still held them, they hesitated.
The only belongings Estel had packed were a cracked bracelet and the shattered fragments of a bow.
"Estel, come here. You’re the last one."
"...Yes."
At Alancia’s call, Estel slowly approached. Before climbing onto Iver’s back, she turned her head one final time.
The Golden Tree, always so vast and warm with light.
Now its former majesty felt like a lie; only a faint glow and roughly cracked branches met her eyes.
"Let’s go."
Alancia gently stroked Estel’s back.
Forcing her reluctant feet to move, Estel climbed onto Iver’s back.
Is everyone ready?
Iver slowly rose and spread her great wings. Thick, massive membranes unfurled, blotting out the ground, then beat slowly, stirring the wind.
One beat lifted her body; two beats carried her into the vast sky. The third merely set the direction.
"Ah..."
"O Golden Tree... farewell."
The lighthearted chatter and laughter of the elves settled into quiet. With each beat of Iver’s wings, the Golden Tree rapidly receded.
The majesty that had once radiated the very presence of nature itself was gone.
Only a tree remained, quietly dying after burning through every last spark of life.
A giant tree.
To the elves, a being far greater than that.
"When we meet again... I will greet you with a smiling face."
For they would meet again soon enough.
The Golden Tree grew smaller and smaller, became a dot, and finally vanished from sight completely.
From among the bowed elves came soft sounds of weeping, but the fragile sobs were easily buried by the wind.
Sorrow was buried in the wind, and Iver beat her wings slowly toward the Holy Land.
Along the way, until their grief had quieted.
A little more slowly.