Unbound

“Jesus fuck!”

Felix exploded to his feet, breaking the flagstones beneath him as if they were glass. He put his hands to his neck, tentatively at first and then with growing confidence. It wasn’t broken, and when he pulled his hands away there was no blood.

He took a breath and looked around. “What new hell did I walk into now?”

Felix blinked.

“Oh. Well, that’s a nice change of pace.”

He stood upon a walkway made of pale blue stone, but around him was a meadow as wide as a city block. The walkway traced along its edges but did not bisect it, leaving the green interior to run wild with grasses and flowers. Insects darted about, highlighted by the early morning sunlight that shone slantwise from the eastern hills. They moved in clouds that ebbed and waned as the lilt of song washed across the air, as if they were dancing.

Which made sense; the singers were dancing as well.

A great crowd of Nymean men and women filled the meadow, armor set aside for flowing robes of pale green and luminescent purple. Wide belts of silver holstered rods of polished wood and stone, while others held staffs made of woven saplings still fresh with green leaves. They stepped in time with one another, pressing together and pushing apart by turns, hands lifted and feet turned just so. Their voices were raised in a bright melody that resonated with the deep portions of Felix’s gut, and somehow it brought forth the scent of fresh turned loam and newborn shoots.

They’re Chanting. Magic was being performed, harnessed and amplified by the Harmonics that rang out into the morning air. But it’s more than that.

That’s not a mountain. That’s a Spirit Tree!

Rising beyond the wide meadow, humungous brown roots curled across the landscape, covered in entire towns, walls and houses and even spire-like towers. The distance was deceiving or perhaps it was the scale that was so offputting, because they seemed to be doll houses at first glance, but Felix could pick out people that walked along those far off thoroughfares. The roots are incredible, and they were nothing to the trunk they connected to—the Spirit Tree’s bulk dominated the horizon, covering more space than Felix could see without turning his head, and it rose at least a mile into the sky. A canopy of dark green leaves spread outward on branches at least twice the thickness of its roots, throwing a shadow over the western countryside as the sun rose slowly into the sky.

“Holy crap,” he muttered. The Spirit Tree before him was probably the same height as the Atlantes Anima, but it was at least twice as wide, and Atlantes was an Elder Spirit Tree.

Verdict - Speak The Truth.

The whisper came and went, traveling on the ceaseless breeze that ruffed Felix’s hair. He didn’t even try to find the source anymore, he just focused on what he was watching.

“What truth?” he asked. There wasn’t an answer. “Show me.”

As if appearing out of the morning dew itself, new figures had joined the Nymean Chanters. Henaari, Korvaa, and Geist were scattered among the Nym in far fewer numbers, their legs taking up the dance as their voices joined the song. Fire sparked and chill crystals crackled among the ever-shifting pattern, soon joined by rumbling stone, crawling vines, and swirls of near-invisible air as twenty-foot tall Greater Elementals appeared. They too began to move, each according to their nature.

All at once, the power of the song redoubled, and Felix finally recognized it.

It’s the Aria of the Green Wilds. The harmonies of it rolled through him, building up in his chest before it burst into dazzling shapes. Images flitted across his Mind; new buds, wet with dew, rising in the first blush of spring.

“Let sing your hearts, magi. The Green Wilds recognizes your passion for its indelible fecundity.”

A large sloth, easily as big as the largest Elemental, moved slowly among the dancing folks. Its green fur hung from its body like a coarse waterfall, and upon its back grew a forest of moss and fronds that swayed with each careful step. Green vines and golden blossoms intertwined across its forehead, providing a stark contrast for the pure-black eyes that stared from beneath its heavy brows.

I know that thing. It had looked different the last time Felix had seen it, but those eyes and its presence were undeniable. Vess had told Felix its name. “Grim Nightshade.”

The Grim looked at him—first with surprise and then curiosity, each emotion radiating from its Spirit. Yet it came no closer. Instead, it lifted its long neck as if rising above the Harmony flowing around itself.

“We sing this dawn of new beginnings as our elder friend takes on a new purpose in their Ages-long life.” It lifted a heavy arm draped in dangling fur, and claws the size of swords drew a slow pattern in the air. Liquid Mana lingered after each stroke, forming a shape. “We honor them with our movements and voices as they end their time of choice.”

The lines and circles finished and flashed, the shape of some sort of sigil activating. At the same time, the dancing magi released their own Mana and it rose from their suddenly still formations like the ghost of their movements. It burned, turning from vapor to liquid to a sharp crystal as the power congealed, and the Grim’s sigil spread outward on lines of near-invisible power, connecting to the greater shape. It all lifted, straight up, until the crystalline pattern stood on its edge and Felix could make out its full complexity.

The dance was a sigil too? He’d never considered that as a way of doing magic. The magi had formed the inscription into the very earth, bending grasses and scuffing dirt with every step. To do what, though?

“We give them water,” the Grim continued. Geysers of water poured from some of the Greater Elementals, soaking into the base of the nearest roots.

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“We give them light.” Fire Elementals rose up, spinning their magic until beams of radiance poured down upon the Tree.

“We give them power, to follow their choice to the end.”

At that, the Grim made a gentle gesture with its sword claws and the crystalline sigil shot forward. It crossed the surprising distance between the meadow and the trunk of the Spirit Tree, finally finding purchase against its coarse bark.

“Let the Green Wilds flow through you, Elder Telamones.”

The power sank into the Tree, and from that point a change rippled outward. Dark brown bark flattened and paled, smoothing out into a color and texture that reminded Felix of a birch tree. The cream-color spread, engulfing the roots and the towns upon them before rising up the trunk. It crawled in time with the melody that the magi still sang, lifting faster and faster across the surface of the Spirit Tree, until even the branches were transformed. From there, the dark green leaves fluttered as if by hurricane-force winds. Between one gale and the next, however, they shifted into a bright crimson that all but glowed in the morning sun.

Elder Spirit Tree Telamones Anima Has Evolved!

It Has Become An Ancient Spirit Tree!

There was only wonder in Felix’s Spirit as he witnessed the transformation, but awe soon joined it as power rippled out into the air, surrounding the Spirit Tree with an aurora of golden-green.

Power Gifted Is Repaid.

Let Sing The Words Of Renewal’s Rise.

A wave of potency rolled from the Tree’s roots, flashing across the meadow and onto the distant countryside like a tide of life. In its wake, the grasses, wildflowers, and trees visibly grew by an order of magnitude. Blossoms the size of doors tilted toward the sun as if to drink in its light, as the shadows of groaning trees stretched over the meadow even as bright fruit grew heavy upon their limbs.

Even the Elementals were affected, their powers expanding in the wake of Telamones’ gift. Lesser Elementals metamorphosed into Greater, and Greater Elementals grew until they were twice their former size.

Magi sang slower, their chorus resolving as the final touches on the Spirit Tree faded and the Elementals around them calmed. Silence overcame the meadow, until only the creak of wind and crackle of elemental flames could be heard.

Felix exhaled. He felt…cleansed, almost. The power of the Spirit Tree hadn’t touched him, but after all the horrors he’d been forced to face, this was practically a vacation.

Of course it couldn’t last.

Sour Dissonance cut through the sweet Harmony like a chainsaw through wood. A broken buzzing splintered the silence into uncountable pieces as a creature made of writhing tendrils and slick feathers tore through the trunk of the Spirit Tree.

Bark burst in all directions as the tendrils resolved into the malformed shape of a massive bird, easily half the Spirit Tree's width. It was crowned by a halow of shadow that was immediately recognizable—a piece of Felix even resonated with the thing’s Divinity, though he did not recognize its new shape.

The Fathom.

The Divine monstrosity splintered the Spirit Tree, ripping its ancient trunk apart with tendrils of dark blue shadow. A deep hole opened up at the end of its thick neck, like a depthless tunnel in place of anything resembling a face. A dark miasma rolled from it, accompanied by a roar of vicious, bloodthirsty glee.

The Aria of the Green Wilds was dashed, its delicate balance drowned out by the Divine. The Elementals were hurled back by the force of its roar, and the Nymean singers fell out of their organized patterns as panic clutched their Spirits. Shouts filled the meadow, followed soon by the tramp of running feet as people fled the meadow. Above, miniature copies of the Fathom clawed their way down from the canopy and shot toward the earth.

Darkness descended upon the morning, but it was met by a burgeoning gold. The copies were tossed back, their approach met by shields of crystal.

The Fathom bellowed wordlessly.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Felix jolted as the earth trembled beneath him. Nearby, dozens of ten-foot-tall stone constructs stomped out from a nearby structure that he’d never noticed. Eidolon Exults marched forward in perfect formation, their Spirits unveiled and exuding the power of Grandmasters. They were led by men and women wearing Crescian Bronze armor and wielding staffs topped by faceted Domain cores. As one, they rose into the air, power radiating off of them in waves as they fought back the tendrils of Noctis' creatures with barriers and spells that shaped the air into chains of crystal.

Chains snapped, blades sliced, and monsters roared.

Felix took a few gulping breaths, unsure what he should do. Should he join? Could he gain greater insight into whatever this was, if he did? Or should he—

“This was the first time they lost a Spirit Tree.”

The enormous sloth was next to him, somehow, despite the fact that the Grim Nightshade was moving further among the meadow, gathering up the scattered Elementals. Felix looked at it cautiously, but the spirit was gazing upon the Fathom as it writhed among the dying remnants of Ancient Telamones.

"They feed upon significance," it said.

"The gods?"

"Yes. Mana, surely, Essence, of course—but it is significance upon which they base their power. It holds them, lifts them aloft.” The Grim dug its massive claws into the walkway, tearing slow furrows into the stone. “The Nym trusted the gods once, and in their naivete, they attempted to broker peace."

The Grim shook its great head, and petals from the golden blossoms on its brow tumbled free.

"The Threnodies of War cannot be culled from the Green Wilds, and none of us can escape our nature. The gods strive to dominate, to claim mastery over the Grand Harmony and all its facets. They broke the peace after a thousand years, striking here first, but it was only the beginning. Noctis infected Telamones' roots, and it spread among the Wilds, harming the guardians at the borders. My creatures."

A rage rose up in the grim nightshade, and it was like looking on the fury of a storm contained within those dark eyes.

"The Green Wilds were bent, and they never truly recovered while the Nym fought their war."

In the distance, the Eidolons clashed with the monstrosities that pursued the malformed Fathom-bird. The twin of the Grim rallied the Elementals, ascending into the air and unleashing their vast power against the monstrous creatures. Shadow flesh was sundered and ichor dropped like rain, but it was too late for the Spirit Tree.

Telamones’ leaves were ablaze, not with fire, but with a dark, smokeless force that could not be extinguished, regardless of the amount of water poured upon it. The not-flame sizzled, consuming the Spirit Tree as if feasting on its very Essence.

Felix's eyes narrowed as he sensed a shifting weight. It wasn't Essence the dark flame was consuming, but significance…and with every piece gone, the Fathom-bird expanded, its tendrils reaching further into the vast battle.

The Grim turned its depthless gaze towards him. "Do not trust the Divine, Felix."

With a great, thunderous crash the Tree fell. The sky darkened, transforming into a starless expanse, illuminated only by a gleaming yellow moon.

Bear Witness, Scion, To The Start Of A Doomed War.

Remember It.

Speak Of It.

Learn From Their Weakness.

The vision twisted, the war-torn meadow vanishing into stretching mists—but a claw latched onto Felix’s forearm. He jerked back, but was unable to move. The Grim’s Strength was incredible.

“Do not trust them either,” the spirit hissed. “They’re clawing their way out, but you cannot let them con—”

With a sudden pop, purple-black flesh closed over the mossy giant, and it was gone.

Continue Onward, Scion, the Beast growled. You Are Not Yet Done.