God’s Tree

Argolaith stood before the portal gate. Its surface shimmered faintly now, a soft pulse like a heartbeat—constant and unreadable. His fingers traced the edge of the old stone frame, feeling the faint hum of magic laced through it like veins beneath skin.

He opened his notebook and made several notes. The runes around the arch didn't match any in the academy's standard catalogs. Some were even older than the oldest texts he had found buried in the restricted archives. That only made him more curious.

Sitting down cross-legged, he summoned the cube and let it hover beside him. It didn't react to the gate like it did in other magical places. That, too, was strange. Not rejection. Not resonance. Just… neutrality. The gate existed, timeless, patient.

As he stared at the gate, a strange thought crept into his mind—nearly a full year had passed since he first arrived at the academy. So much had changed. His cabin. Elyrion. The cube. The sword. The frogs.

And Kaelred.

Kaelred would be arriving soon. Argolaith could feel it, as if the trees of Elyrion whispered his old friend's name. The memory brought a calm, familiar weight to his chest. It would be good to see him again. They had both grown.

Still, the gate was a puzzle he couldn't leave alone.

He stood and began sketching the runes again. This time, he recorded the spacing and magical pulse intervals—there were rhythms here, buried deep beneath the surface enchantments. Rhythms that matched neither teleportation nor summoning.

"Not a portal to a place…" he muttered, narrowing his eyes. "But to a condition?"

That made no sense. Yet it also explained why the gate seemed dormant, not sealed. Maybe it required something more than just power. A state of mind? A magical frequency? A permission?

He walked around the arch slowly, observing the air behind it. No shimmer of a distant world. No image of a destination. Just silent stone and a faint, lingering feeling—like standing at the edge of something vast.

Argolaith placed his palm on the base of the gate and let a thin thread of mana flow into it. Nothing happened. He tried a cube, set it beside the gate. Still nothing. Whatever this was, it wasn't something he could brute-force open.

He sighed, brushing his hands off on his robes. The sun in Elyrion was beginning to shift in color. He had set the realm's day cycle slower than Morgoth's, but even then, time still slipped by.

Returning to his notes, he made one last line before closing the book: The gate is not just a door. It's a threshold. But to where—or when—I still don't know.

He glanced back at the stone one last time. Then turned toward the trees. He needed a break. Maybe one of the frogs had done something weird again. That always helped clear his mind.

Argolaith sat at his outside table beneath the soft light of Elyrion's twin stars. The frogs croaked quietly near the pond, casting glowing ripples over the surface. He leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting toward the sky, wondering if Kaelred would arrive soon.

The thought lingered.

He pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and began to write. It wasn't a long letter—just a brief message to let Kaelred know the academy was more than it appeared, and that he had a lot to tell him. At the bottom, he added a rune of delivery.

The rune shimmered once, then vanished.

It would wait in the main postroom until Kaelred arrived. He'd know who it was from.

Argolaith stood and stretched. His thoughts returned to Elyrion. He had created so much here, but it was time to think beyond cabins and ponds. If he truly wanted this place to grow, it needed structure. Protection.

He summoned his cube and placed it on the center of the table. It hovered slightly, faintly pulsing. With a thought, he activated a new sequence—spatial threads. Thin, glowing lines of light extended from the cube and moved outward across Elyrion.

Argolaith watched them stretch into the forest, around the pond, across the hills and cliffs. He was designing a rune network. Not for defense. Not yet. But for awareness.

Each rune was tuned to pick up magical disturbances.

He took his time walking the land, placing rune anchors into trees, stones, and earth. The frogs watched him work, some hopping onto his shoulders as he moved. He smiled and let them stay.

After an hour, the outer ring was done.

He walked back to his cabin and traced the last connection rune on the base of his porch. The lines lit up—every anchor responding with a soft blink. The cube hummed. It worked.

Now if something changed in Elyrion, he would know.

He glanced at the old books stacked beside the door. They were still filled with forging notes and enchanting techniques. The sword was still a project in progress, but for now, this would do.

Argolaith entered the cabin and lit a soft lantern.

He took out one of the rare glowing mushrooms from the underground sanctuary and set it on a small dish. Its light flickered gently, casting soft violet shadows across the wood. He stared at it in silence, then sat down.

A day of quiet progress.

And tomorrow, perhaps, Kaelred.

Kaelred stepped through the towering gates of the Grand Magic Academy, his boots crunching against the mosaic-tiled path. The air buzzed faintly with mana, different from the wild energy of the forests he'd traveled through. His crimson hair was damp from the morning mist, but his golden eyes remained alert.

He looked around and exhaled.

"So this is the place…"

In his hand was a sealed parchment—Argolaith's letter. He had read it three times already. The tone was casual, almost teasing, but beneath it was something else. A quiet thread of importance.

Kaelred tucked the letter away and adjusted the strap on his shoulder. The storage ring Argolaith had given him pulsed softly, containing his elixirs and the four trees he had found. The fifth still called to him, but he hadn't found it.

Not yet.

As he walked deeper into the courtyard, students passed by with wide eyes. Whispers followed in his wake. Some noticed the way his presence pressed against their senses—a sign of strength, and magic yet to bloom.

An instructor with faded blue robes approached him with a clipboard.

"Name?"

"Kaelred," he answered calmly. "Here to enroll."

The instructor nodded, flipping through the pages.

"You're early. You weren't expected for another season."

Kaelred offered a faint smirk. "Plans changed."

The instructor studied him a moment longer before motioning toward a tall tower near the heart of the academy.

"Report to the testing grounds. You'll need to demonstrate your skills. If the records are accurate, you've already survived things that would kill most first-year students."

Kaelred said nothing. He just nodded and walked.

As he reached the testing tower, he paused. His mind drifted briefly to Argolaith—his sword, his strange calm, and the vastness behind his eyes. If Argolaith was here, then this place was more dangerous—and more important—than it looked.

Inside the tower, a narrow hallway led to an open arena.

Stone walls rose in a dome, etched with glowing sigils. Magical pressure settled in the air like a silent audience. Across the field, an elder waited. Kaelred recognized her—Elder Arvail.

Her expression was unreadable.

"You are Kaelred."

"I am."

She gestured to the center. "Your trial begins when you're ready."

Kaelred unslung his weapon—an old blade wrapped in runes and tied together by charm-thread. It had seen battles before magic had even awakened in him. As he walked forward, the runes lit up one by one.

Arvail raised a hand. A gravity field pulsed outward, distorting the floor.

Kaelred grinned.

He dashed forward.