Magnavex led me into a study room carved from seamless black stone, the air cool and still. A single circular desk dominated the center, its surface gleaming like oil in the torchlight.
“I shall get you bedding, my Lord,” she said before exiting, leaving me alone.
I lowered myself to the floor, closed my eyes, and breathed with both of myself, trying to keep in sync.
OLIVE
I opened my eyes and immediately felt the weight of my body against the bed. In the distance, a bird sang, faint but unmistakably, the song about traveling merchant who turns into a Rummage Crab.
A breeze lifted the edge of my blanket. The window was open. Sunlight touched my arm.
Guess I wasn’t getting a reset today.
I was aware of the stone floor beneath Lucarion’s feet and the weight of his clothes on his body though “feel” wasn’t the right word. It was more like knowing they should be there, the way you sometimes know things in a dream before they happen. That strange certainty, where part of your mind realizes it’s all being made up, but the rest doesn’t realize it’s dreaming at all.
Speaking of… I sensed rather than heard Magnavex’s hooves stomping toward the study room.
LUCARION
I snapped back into Lucarion just in time to see five hooked claws grip the doorway, gouging deep furrows into the frame. Then came the horns, two enormous, spear-like curves that could have skewered me straight through. A smooth, faceless head followed, its entire front dominated by a yawning mouth ringed with jagged, circular teeth. It looked like it could bite me clean in half.
The rest of it prowled in low on six limbs, all corded muscle and predatory grace, filling the doorway with its bulk.
I stayed perfectly still. It didn’t seem to have eyes, ears, or a nose. I had no idea how it knew where it was going, but I wasn’t about to give it a reason to notice me.
Warmth spread down my legs before I even realized what I’d done.
Its head lifted. The mouth opened wider, a long, slick tongue flicking into the air. It froze for half a heartbeat—then snapped toward me.
OLIVE
The next blink, I was staring at my ceiling, tracing the roots above me. This was what I did before falling asleep, follow the lines like they were clouds, each twist and knot turning into different shapes if you stared long enough.
I felt Magnavex shaking Lucarion’s shoulders.
This was my room.
Not the study.
Not the void.
Not the library.
Mine.
I sat up slowly, the blanket falling to my lap. Beside my dresser, the wall looked… younger than it should have. The grain was too pale, the pattern too clean, like the tree had healed a wound. My heart thudded harder than it ever had before.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, hesitating before putting my feet down. It felt like something I couldn’t take back.
Then I stepped onto the moss-carpeted floor, its softness muffling the sound. A thick root curled across the ground like the edge of a rug, still warm from the morning sun. My desk sat in the corner, carved from the same living wood as the room itself. My journal and carving knife rested on top. I picked up the knife, its weight felt steady, calming.
Outside the window, light filtered through the canopy, green and gold. My ivy-thread curtain fluttered gently.
My whole body felt weak. As I stood, the lantern caught my eye. Inside, one of Mom’s fire elementals stirred. The tiny sprite waved at me, its flame dancing cheerfully, tips flaring blue like windblown hair. It bobbed up and down, as if trying to cheer me up.
I waved back, the dagger still in hand.
My stomach growled… A perfect excuse not to think. I took the hint. And decided to head to the kitchen.
I walked slowly, annoyed by how big my room suddenly felt. Adrenaline surged, and I rushed to the door. Every step felt heavier than it should have.
At the door, I stopped embarrassed, I noticed another patch of younger wood on the wall. A shiver went down my spine. I pulled the door open and stepped onto the landing.
The air hit me first, alive, charged, awake. I stretched my hands out, letting the warmth of the wood soak into my fingers.
A small insect skittered up my arm, its body humming faintly with static. The charge raised goosebumps along my skin. I let it crawl, smiling faintly.
Home.
Beneath my fingertips, I felt the soft roots of moss winding up the railings like veins. Even the walls here breathed.
I glanced through the nearest window. From here, the olive trees stood tall and proud, their twisted branches woven into a canopy of green. From this height, to anyone else, they might have looked like bushes, but I knew better. Up close, they were towering giants, their roots tangled deep beneath the soil, strong enough to lift entire hills.
I stepped into the stairwell. The wooden floor curved beneath my feet, spiraling gently around the inner trunk. Soft moss muffled each step. Vines trailed from the ceiling like curtains, brushing my shoulders as I passed. The scent of bark and dew lingered in the air, a damp, green smell that made me breathe deeper.
Tiny white flowers had bloomed overnight along the railing. They curled open one by one as I passed, blinking toward the glow of drifting lightning bugs.
I descended slowly, floor by floor. The spiral stairwell wrapped downward like a ribbon, each level dim and dreamlike in the filtered light.
Finally, I reached the right floor and paused before the kitchen door.
Its surface was carved in careful relief: a towering Fire Elemental, arms raised, orchestrating an army of tiny fire sprites. Each sprite bustled with purpose, stirring pots, kneading dough, fanning flames. The carving was so precise it seemed to radiate warmth.
I slipped the knife into my pocket and rested my hand on the door. Thoughts of a demon on the other side pushed at the edges of my mind, but I shoved them down.
The wood felt warm. Just for a moment.
I closed my eyes. Took one last breath.
Then I pushed the door open and stepped into the kitchen.
Like every room in our house, it was massive and circular, not built but grown. Dark wood curved smoothly around the space, polished naturally by age and use, its grain rich and deep. Lanterns hung from high branches overhead, casting flickering light across the room.
In the center stood a towering chimney, growing straight through the heart of the trunk like a stone spine. Stoves and counters coiled around it in a labyrinthine pattern, not for efficiency, but at my mother’s whims. The wood beneath my feet dipped slightly around the hearth, as if shaped by generations of footsteps.
The chimney wasn’t just for smoke, it was the heart of the tree, venting warmth to every floor through a network of hollowed channels and heat veins.
Tiny fire sprites flitted between lanterns, flickering like living sparks. They lit the room with a lively dance of light and shadow, chasing each other across the rafters and trailing little embers behind.
At the far stove stood my brother.
His broad back faced me. For the first time, I truly took in how tall and strong he looked, the kind of tall that made him seem older than he was. Steam from the pots had turned his neat brown hair into a wild, frizzy halo. His sleeves were rolled up as he stirred something thick and bubbling. Totally focused. Totally unaware I was there.
I padded in quietly, unsure what to say. For some reason, I felt scared for him to see me.
I slipped around the benches and counters, weaving past a few of the smaller fire elementals as they dutifully carried ladles and stirred empty pots for no reason other than habit. Their bodies flared with each little task, like they thought they were helping.
I crept into position behind him. My mind knew he was my brother, but my body told me to run. Run and run, as far as I could.
I took a deep breath. Steeled myself.
And then—
“HAAAAAH!” I leapt in front of him, arms out.
“AAARGH!” Olivander shouted, nearly flinging the spoon across the room. Porridge sloshed over the side of the pot.
“What the—what’s wrong with you?” he snapped, startled—then his face split into a massive grin. “Oly!”
He scooped me into a bear hug, spinning me off the floor.
Laughter burst out of me before I could stop it, loud, sudden, unstoppable. For one bright moment, the fear, the stone walls, even the demon… all of it vanished.
It was just me, my brother’s arms, the smell of cinnamon and firelight.
“Enough, enough!” I wheezed, tapping his shoulder. “Put me down!”
He set me back on the ground, still chuckling.
“Why are you down here? When did you wake up?”
I ignored his question and pointed at the pot. “Can I have some?”
“The porridge!” Olivander turned back in a panic. “Of course! This was for you anyway.”
He resumed stirring, adding a dash of cinnamon, a handful of raisins, and some banana slices with practiced ease.
When did he get so used to cooking?
A few minutes later, we were sitting at the kitchen counter. The bowls were warm in our hands, the porridge thick and sweet, spiced and soft in all the right ways.
We ate quietly.
Magnavex was moving Lucarion.
And I kept pretending not to notice.