Before World Tree
Vision Monologue
"The stars have finally aligned with my vision of the past. My life as it once was will never be the same again," he sighed, his surroundings completely black. "Is this the fate that I truly want? A fate that I truly desire? Or is it not up to me to decide? I say to hell with fate, plot, destiny, and manipulation. I am the writer of my story. I decide how it ends and whether or not it should begin. In the end…" Yggdrasil's red eyes slowly opened, illuminated in the darkness. "My decisions were my own, influenced by myself as I am the pen that writes."
The Breach of Time
✦A jagged rift, pulsing with chaotic energy, tore through the fabric of space, exhaling an enigmatic figure into the world. From its turbulent maw, a blazing entity erupted, hurtling toward the forest's perimeter with a velocity that defied comprehension. Yet, just as its descent became inevitable, an unseen force—veiled within the depths of the unknown—sought to halt its arrival.
Tendrils of an unfamiliar power clawed at the entity mid-flight, twisting the very air around it in defiance. But the force proved futile; his aura, an unrelenting presence of supremacy, repelled the intrusion, ensuring his descent remained undeterred. The descent of this celestial invader mirrored that of a meteor, heat warping the air in its wake, inscribing a luminous scar across the night sky before its cataclysmic impact.
The violent descent disrupted the equilibrium of the atmosphere, a moment of unnatural disturbance that seemed both unnoticed and profoundly consequential. As it neared the ground, its force annihilated the treetops, sending splintered wood and embers spiraling into the heavens, igniting the forest in an uncontrollable inferno. When it struck, the earth itself recoiled—the impact fracturing the terrain, leaving a smoldering crater at the forest's heart. Smoke billowed upward, a swirling testament to the violent arrival, blackening the once-pristine clouds with the hues of destruction.
At the center of the devastation lay a lone figure, motionless yet imposing. His presence, though inert, exuded an alien force—one at odds with the natural order of this world. Clad in simple garments, his outward appearance belied the formidable power that clung to him, an energy both foreign and undeniable.
A golden aura, flickering like a dying star, rippled from his body, reacting to the world around him. He was barely conscious, yet the energy responded instinctively, illuminating the immediate area in fleeting pulses. Through this haze, his blurred vision caught the shadowed figures lingering beyond the smoke—recognition flickering in their postures rather than fear. Their very presence felt familiar, as if bound to him by forces neither seen nor spoken. And yet, there was something… off. Fragments of their essence wavered, shifting in ways that defied logic, hints of something buried beneath layers of time itself.
Yet, as the heat distorted the air around him, his balance wavered. The weight of his arrival, of something greater pressing upon him, was undeniable. His vision blurred, the world shifting into abstraction—until, at last, his form slackened, and he collapsed, his consciousness stolen by forces unseen. Just before the tendrils of unconsciousness fully consumed him, the fragmented forms of his observers took shape within the haze, their approach steady, their awareness of his presence uncanny. Their movements were deliberate, their forms distorted by the wavering heat. They advanced toward him, darkened specters against the burning horizon, their intentions obscured in the shifting haze of fate.
First Encounter
✦A voice trailed through his mind, its words vivid, igniting a spark. "Now is not the time to be sleeping. Wake up."
He awoke in an unfamiliar room, his body heavy, as if rousing from a slumber that had stretched across centuries. He got up slowly, surveilling the room before him. The room was strangely modern, yet carried an air of neglect—wooden furniture stood worn with age, and atop a nearby dresser, a candle burned low, its flickering flame barely holding against the surrounding dimness.
The curtains were riddled with tiny holes, allowing slivers of light to pierce through like fragmented constellations. The floorboards groaned beneath the slightest shift, betraying their fragility. A strange contrast loomed above—a white crystal embedded in the ceiling, casting an unnatural glow, its presence out of place amidst the otherwise archaic surroundings. The air was thick with a faint mustiness, tinged with the sharp scent of melted wax. In the distance, the slow, rhythmic drip of water echoed, filling the silence with a haunting repetition.
He attempted to stand, but the moment he shifted his weight, his legs faltered. With a sudden collapse, he crashed to the floor, the impact rattling through the wooden planks beneath him. The resounding thud sent urgency through the house—footsteps thundered from below, heavy and growing closer with each second. A brief pause. Then—tentative knocking. The door creaked open, its hinges straining against time.
"We are coming in. Don't be afraid," the woman said gently.
As they entered, he raised a hand, halting them in place. His voice, measured yet commanding, cut through the space. "Hospitable, maybe. But don't come any closer."
They obeyed, though hesitation flickered across their features. Introductions followed.
"My name is Osun, and this is my brother, Olokun," one of the boys stated.
Their mother followed suit. "And I am Yemoja."
Their features bore a striking resemblance—heterochromatic eyes that seemed to pierce through shadow, silver inward when they stood together and golden on the other eye. Their frames were clad in worn yet serviceable clothing. Their hair was silver and white, cropped short, save for their mother, whose long strands framed her face in sharp contrast; her hair was only white.
His gaze sharpened. "Where am I?"
Yemoja exchanged a glance with the boys before stepping forward. "You are in our home. We found you unconscious in the burning woods and brought you here."
His thoughts coiled inward. Could they be the figures I saw… or am I losing my mind? A haze of fragmented memories danced on the edges of his consciousness. He steadied himself. "What year is it?"
Yemoja pressed a hand to her chin, considering. "Rising Year 1, Month 1, Week 1, Day 1—Before World Tree."
He exhaled slowly, grounding himself before speaking again. "Before World Tree." The words settled in his mind, their implications stretching far beyond the immediate moment. "I am Yggdrasil Archangel."
The name felt heavier than before, weighted with something unspoken. An unseen force pulsed around him, pressing against the air itself. Silence thickened as though the room recoiled in recognition of his very presence—it almost felt like suppression.
End of Sample ✦ Chapter I
The story has only begun.
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