The forest floor was soft beneath Lynchie's boots, carpeted in emerald moss that glowed beneath the moon's pale gaze. Zev led the way along a winding path of silvered roots, each step stirring faint luminescence from the undergrowth. Beyond them, the Eternal Heavens' outpost hovered on a distant ridge—an island of light against the black sky. Tonight, they sought the Heartwood Sanctuary, where the First Eternal Tree's Core Womb pulsed with ancient power.
Vyen trailed behind, clutching a rolled Codex page. "The ritual must begin at midnight," he whispered, voice hushed by reverence. "According to the Hollow Codex, the Core Womb's sealed archives only open under the Tree's own heartbeat."
Lynchie's Spiral mark tingled against her skin—a flutter of anticipation and dread. She tightened her cloak against the damp night air. "And if the bans hold true?" she asked. "If the Tribunal has voided the First Tongue?"
"There's a splinter glyph," Vyen said, producing a narrow strip of parchment covered in angular script. "Only one resonant with the true Spiral name can awaken the Core Womb. Otherwise, we risk collapsing the entire Sanctuary."
Zev glanced back at her. "You're the only one who can read it." His tone was steady, but his eyes held concern. "Are you ready?"
She inhaled, letting the hush of the forest settle her racing heart. "I have to be."
They emerged into a clearing where a colossal tree soared skyward—its trunk split by a spiraling fissure of pure light. Tendrils of luminescent sap wound around its limbs, pulsing like a living heartbeat. At its base stood six Guardian statuary—treants etched from living bark, eyes closed in silent vigil. Between them lay a covered stone dais.
Vyen rolled out the splinter glyph across the dais's surface. The runes glowed faintly blue. "This is it," he murmured. "Speak the first syllable."
Lynchie stepped forward. Her voice trembled as she traced the glyph with a trembling fingertip and spoke the first syllable in the First Tongue—soft as a prayer. Immediately, the Guardian treants stirred: roots creaking, bark shifting, eyes flickering open. The air vibrated with their slow, deliberate breath.
The fissure in the Tree's trunk shone brighter. From within came a low hum—then a single pulse, echoing across the glade. Vyen's scroll fluttered in his hand. "It's working," he breathed.
Zev drew his sword, ready to defend against any intruders. Lynchie pressed on, voice growing surer as she intoned the second syllable. The Treants bowed their limbs, activating three archaic glyph-locked doors embedded in the Tree's base.
As the doors swung open, a rush of sap-scented wind spilled forth, carrying the distant trill of celestial chorus—an echo from the Eternal Heavens. A golden glow spilled from within the Core Womb, illuminating the clearing in warm radiance.
Lynchie hesitated at the threshold. She felt a thousand voices calling—spirits of every Angel spawned by the Eternal Trees, singing in harmony. The sensation was overwhelming: love, loss, purpose intertwined. She swallowed, stepping inside.
The chamber within was circular, its walls alive with concentric rings of living wood and runic vines. At its center lay a crystalline pod—the Core Womb—pulsing with pure, unshaped life. Around it swirled drifting motes of holy energy, each a newborn angelic seed waiting to be born.
Vyen and Zev followed tentatively. "The Sanctuary's heart," Vyen whispered, eyes shining. "Every Heaven Outpost has the Tree's fragment—this is the source."
Lynchie placed a hand on the pod's smooth surface. The pulse quickened, matching her heartbeat. She intoned the final syllable. The Core Womb glowed so brightly it felt like the birth of a star, and the chamber trembled.
Outside, the Guardian treants roared to life, barriers of living bark sealing the clearing. A distant crack like thunder split the sky. The Endless Abyss stirred.
Within the chamber, the pod shattered, releasing a wave of living light that coursed through Lynchie's veins. Memories not her own flooded her mind: first breaths of angels, the forging of Spiral Wards, the last eclipse before the War of Echoes. She gasped, staggering.
Zev caught her arm. "Lynchie—"
She closed her eyes against the storm of visions. A single thought anchored her: protect the Spiral.
When she opened her eyes, they glowed with radiant purpose. The motes of energy gathered at her shoulders, forming wing-like shapes of pure light. Vyen whispered, awestruck: "She's become the World-Tree Guardian."
The chamber's hymn swelled. Lynchie stepped from the Core Womb's threshold, wings of living light unfurling. "We have the power to seal the Abyss—or cleanse the Heavens," she said, voice resonant with newfound authority. "But first, we must survive the dawn."
Outside, the forest fell silent—watching as the new Guardian took flight.
And high above, the first rays of sunrise broke across the sky, heralding a day when angels and demons alike would tremble at her wings.