《Grove of War》


 1. The End Comes First

    It was the day Finlay¡¯s second life would end¡­ and start anew. It wouldn¡¯t be a particularly good end. And he might¡¯ve been better off staying on Earth. But he couldn¡¯t let the world of Ilaya fall to the Sporeal Tide again.


    Before jumping too far forward, the end comes first.


    ¡°The weather doesn¡¯t look good.¡± Finlay¡¯s frown creased two scars across his stern face, roughened by years of war. He wasn¡¯t stern; he just looked like it. He tilted his head to get lazy strands of dark brown hair out of his tired eyes. Gazing at the sky, he wondered how many days it hadn¡¯t been blue.


    Swirls of deep purple powdered blotted out the sun, continuing the long cold night. He''d think the scene was beautiful if he didn¡¯t know what was going on. It reminded him of a nebula from a science book his mom read him as a kid instead of bedtime stories.


    Such a long time ago.


    Monstrous whales, several times bigger than the biggest of Earth, breached the dark clouds and ruined his reminiscing. They descended upon the valley, paddling the air with too many flippers, swarms of smaller flying terrors following in their wake. On their backs, the whales carried hundreds of monsters. Finlay knew their bulging stomachs held even more.


    Those creatures weren¡¯t in the science books of Earth, for sure.


    Not in any book of Ilaya either.


    They came from worlds consumed by the Sporeal Tide to condemn this one to the same fate. Most of Ilaya had fallen, its inhabitants forced to join the monstrous hordes attacking the Aegis Forest where the dying World Tree stood. The forest was home to the goatkin and became the last refuge of those with free will. There was nowhere else to run.


    ¡°Very observant, my unhorned friend,¡± said a deep voice so monotone it was difficult to tell if the speaker was sarcastic or not.


    Ramuel landed on a tree branch to Finlay¡¯s right. The appointed War Buck of the Herd Queen observed the whales, his rectangular pupils remaining level with the horizon as he tilted his bearded chin up. Not counting his massive coiled horns that were the envy of other goatkin, Ramuel was a good couple of heads taller than Finlay, though Finlay was quite tall himself. Ramuel¡¯s armor of living bark writhed around his body, occasionally exposing the golden Soulheart on his chest.


    ¡°Unfavorable to plants, this darkness,¡± Ramuel rumbled on. ¡°Leaves wilt and turn yellow. You need a touch of the sun likewise, my unhorned friend. Quite fatigued, you look lately.¡±


    ¡°Trying not to die is too taxing.¡± Finlay had barely rested since the siege began. Try as he might to hide it, his low anima pool was showing. They didn¡¯t have any Speckles to replenish their anima. ¡°I¡¯m thinking of sunbathing when the weather clears up. Works for the plants, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps the sun will greet us tomorrow,¡± Ramuel said with a rare hint of amusement.


    Finlay cracked a smile. They both knew they¡¯d never see the sun again. None in this forest would. ¡°If it¡¯s sunny tomorrow, laundry will be my priority. I¡¯ve been wearing the same clothes for days.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± Ramuel tapped his nose. ¡°Goatkin has a better sense of smell than humans.¡±


    They laughed. A luxury these days.


    Ramuel was an odd one among his people. Brooding and reclusive, the goatkin would rather talk to plants than other races. Some of their plants could talk back, so there was that. Most goatkin opposed opening the Aegis Forest. They weren¡¯t stupid. The goatkin knew they¡¯d fall to the Sporeal Tide on their own. They simply preferred keeping to themselves up to the end. Having met all sorts of people in his travels, Finlay couldn¡¯t blame them.


    It was Ramuel who pleaded with the Herd Queen to accept the refugees. They joined forces to defend the Aegis Forest, the goatkin¡¯s Awakened Trees infused with Soulhearts proving their prowess of legends. Most importantly, the goatkin had plenty of food untainted by Spores. The World Tree nourished their crops even with the sun gone.


    ¡°A whole lot more of them today,¡± Finlay said. The Sporeal Tide cascaded from the mountains in the distance down to the valley, a dark avalanche melding with the plains blackened by fire. ¡°Those pesky whales are almost within range, I think.¡±


    ¡°And so, we begin.¡± Ramuel threw back his head and roared, his throaty call reverberating throughout the forest.


    Drums thundered and horns blared in answer. Fireworks lit up the sky with symbols of different colors, relaying orders across the vast greenery. Armies coordinated as one, grudges of old and differing beliefs set aside. If only they had together worked when the Sporeal Tide first appeared. Too late to think of ¡®what ifs¡¯ now.


    Ramuel nodded at Finlay. ¡°Don¡¯t perish, my unhorned friend. I trust such a simple task isn¡¯t burdensome?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll get smellier if I die,¡± said Finlay with a smile. ¡°Take care of yourself too. I still have to repay your help.¡±


    ¡°If death claims me, take my Soulheart and let me continue to fight. That is repayment enough.¡± Ramuel was away before Finlay could reply, leaping over treetops with legs ending in cloven hooves, the double-headed axe on his back bouncing.


    Finlay clasped a small pouch secured by a chain around his neck¡ªhis ritual before every battle. Inside the pouch was a dried seed gifted by his grandfather, the only thing that stayed with Finlay after he was inexplicably yanked from Earth twelve years ago. The seed was a family heirloom and also, supposedly, a lucky charm. There might be some truth to his grandfather¡¯s story. Many, many times, Finlay should¡¯ve died. Yet, here he still was.


    Golden fireballs arced up the sky, pushing back the darkness¡ªthe ironboomers of the dwarves began to sing and make the earth tremble. Lesser but more numerous cannons built by humans joined in the chorus. Sylphshades let loose their magical arrows, layering keen whistling to the music of war. Bursts of energy followed, cast by Telvari sages wielding elderbone staves. The background was rustling leaves, the forest stirring as scores of Awakened Trees with Stone Troll Soulhearts hurled boulders covered in explosive runes etched by the Lha¡¯at.


    Clouds of flying monsters rushed down and formed a wall between the rising projectiles and the whales. Chains of explosions opened massive holes in the swarm. More monsters filled the gaps and met the incessant barrage with their bodies.


    Untouched, the whales continued their approach.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t they just be mindless monsters?¡± Finlay sighed as he tucked the pouch back into his padded tunic.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    The pouch settled next to the elderbone-hewn sternial that jutted out of his chest like Ramuel¡¯s Soulheart. The sternial was warm though Finlay hadn¡¯t used it yet¡ªhe had worked it overtime for several days. It pulsed with the life echoes of six Soulhearts; half were on the brink of shattering. Finlay and Hilda the Bulwark were the last Soulheart Wardens of the Hexalinker rank. The handful of Wardens with higher Links had all perished in the war.


    Finlay fed anima into the Soulheart of a spectral roc inside his sternial. His shoulder blades pushed out, stretching his skin. His chest expanded into a wedge as his enlarged sternum flared and ribs angled forward¡ªthis keel bone was the anchor for powerful muscles stretching over and under his arms to his back. He had done this many times before but still hadn¡¯t gotten used to the sensation of his insides rearranging.


    And there was plenty of rearranging needed.


    No pain, fortunately. Only a slight itch and a grating sensation he couldn¡¯t put into words.


    Wardens gained the ability to transform upon reaching four Links. Contrary to what the uninitiated might think, morphing the entire body into a specific beast was easy. Relatively. Partial transformations, successful ones, were incredibly difficult to pull off. Even Pentalinkers struggled with them. One couldn¡¯t just pop out an extra arm and expect it to work. Knowledge of physiology and an intricate control of anima was required. Morphing wings that allowed flight was another level of challenge¡ªFinlay needed to change his bone composition, making them lighter while reinforcing them with anima.


    He wriggled the protrusions through slits in the back of his shirt, making sure they didn¡¯t snag on anything. In one breath, the bones multiplied and elongated, two spines spreading seven feet to each side, skin covering them tautly. Long black feathers erupted like spears thrusting out his skin, unfurling the full size of the wings. A few test flaps left afterimages and trails of black smoke.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get going now,¡± Finlay said, turning to the tree he stood on.


    On its trunk was a large wooden mask carved into the likeness of an owl. The mask opened its eyes and clicked its beak. A green glow wrapped Finlay and calmness washed over him.


    ¡°Thanks for the boost. Uh, you too.¡± Finlay had no idea what it said.


    The Awakened Tree grunted as it raised its branch arm, elevating Finlay high above the other trees busy with catapulting enchanted rocks at the enemy. A stroke of his powerful wings, he was a blur in the freezing purple sky.


    Screeching abominations flocked to him.


    Their bodies burst into minced meat upon meeting his barrier of wind. He was like a car and the monsters were squished bugs on his literal windshield.


    As he soared higher, flying hosts draped in malignant spores came from every direction. He let loose black wind blades, each the size of a canoe, slicing dozens of the tightly packed enemies. Zigzagging through the air, he targeted the biggest clumps of fodder to thin their numbers fast. He¡¯d be overwhelmed if not careful. Bombardments from below kept the small fry busy protecting the whales instead of chasing him.


    There was the risk of getting hit by friendly fire. His grandfather¡¯s lucky charm had to work extra hard.


    Finlay aimed for the nearest whale. It was practically a floating island.


    Before impact, he enclosed himself with his wings, hardened the feathers, and spun his body. He drilled into the belly of the whale, shredding its insides with waves of energy explosions made with his Bittermane Soulheart. Tremors from a Great Mogloth that could level a castle expanded the destruction. Lastly, his Valefire Dracowyrm Soulheart produced rings of white flames that incinerated the whale¡¯s pulverized flesh and bones along with the monsters inside it.


    Finlay opened his wings as he emerged out of the whale¡¯s topside and scanned the air. No Enslavers or Node Nobles to stop him? He couldn¡¯t sense their natura-dampening aura. After almost dying to a Prime Sporeal yesterday that seemed to read his moves, Finlay thought the Tide would send even stronger creatures specifically crafted to defeat him.


    He looked down at his handiwork¡ªa hole the size of a basketball court carved out the middle of the whale. It had been ages since basketball crossed his mind. Why am I thinking of Earth things today?


    Through the hole, he saw the battle on land far below begin.


    Monsters crashed against layers of fortifications ringing the Aegis Forest. Hilda the Bulwark furrowed lines of deep moats to break the monstrous charge, throwing excavated earth up into towering walls. Abominable armies trapped in the moats were set ablaze by Archon Khaero and the elven Witchblade dancers. Ramuel carved destruction behind enemy lines, seeking to assassinate Node Nobles and weaken the coordination of the enslaved hosts.


    But the Sporeal Tide pressed on with their inexhaustible armies.


    Flesh Titans, each a grotesque amalgamation of hundreds of monsters, broke through the earthworks. Awakened Trees, wielding powers of different beasts, and Heart Frames, the last that the dwarves could cobble together, engaged in a slugfest with the Flesh Titans.


    How long can we hold¡­?


    Finlay shook his head.


    Just fight!


    This world was gone¡ªhe accepted that a long time ago. But he¡¯d never stop fighting. Every monster he¡¯d take out was one less attacking another world. Give them, whoever they¡¯d be, a better chance at defeating the Sporeal Tide. This was all he could do.


    Whale after whale, Finlay brought them down, a funky burnt smell filling his nose. He made sure the massive corpses crashed into the attackers below. A huge headache if even one whale succeeded in delivering its package inside the forest. They had no reserves to deal with enemies showing up past their defenses. Forces would need to be pulled from the barely holding frontlines.


    ¡°That¡¯s fourteen.¡± Finlay flared his wings to brake after bursting out of another body. ¡°Or fifteen? Do I count you as two?¡±


    The colossal eel-like monster with jaws wider than a flying whale didn¡¯t answer.


    The hole Finlay exited from was in the middle of the eel¡¯s bulbous forehead. Light radiated from the hole and streaked across the eel¡¯s immense face. Countless smaller cuts appeared. Fountains of purple blood spurted from the slashes. The giant flying eel, stretching thrice the length of a whale, began to fall. Its body fragmented into numerous cubes, each the size of a house, and plummeted to the rest of the Sporeal Tide.


    ¡°You should be three points, including that pesky Node Noble.¡± Finlay felt warm blood running down his arm. He didn¡¯t wear armor for unrestricted transformations. His anima-tempered skin was stronger than steel anyway. This level of pain was nothing to him.


    A Node Noble hiding inside the eel caught Finlay off-guard. It could¡¯ve been a Node Lord, judging by how strong and fast it struck him. Incredibly lucky Finlay twisted his head away before the blow connected.


    Another thanks to Grandpa Swaney¡¯s charm.


    Finlay healed the gash across his shoulder with anima, a Warden¡¯s prized ability. While restoring his body, he took care not to smoothen the scars on his face¡ªthe mark of his promise to give it his all fighting until the end. That end was coming nearer and nearer.


    Blurriness overcame his vision. Dammit!


    His anima fluctuated badly. Fatigue was catching up but rest was nowhere to be found. Another eel came with five whales.


    There was no end to this.


    Finlay was heading to the next eel when he heard a worrying sound. Faint but distinct from other noises of battle. He banked his left wing and made a sharp turn to the forest. The majestic World Tree, its shimmering canopy as wide as a city, roof-sized leaves displaying the colors of the rainbow, stood in the middle of the ocean of green.


    At the edge of the World Tree¡¯s shade hovered shimmers of a signal flare¡ªthe red symbol for an emergency.


    A false alarm? How could an enemy be that far back? No whale got through Finlay. On land, their lines had been breached thrice, but the defenders rallied to throw out the enemies each time.


    Explosions blossomed into purple flames that consumed the trees.


    Two more flares shot up. Red again.


    Real trouble.

 2. Another Chance

    Finlay zoomed to the heart of the Aegis Forest, trailing flares to signal that he left his post.


    Something wasn¡¯t right. Something big. He was the fastest reinforcement. Up to the others to adjust the defenses. The World Tree was the priority.


    Where did the enemy come from? If not the sky, could they have tunneled underground? The roots of Awakened Trees would¡¯ve detected them. A Fairy Ring was also impossible this deep inside the Aegis Forest; its construction would¡¯ve alerted everyone and their grandmothers, assuming said grandmothers were sensitive to natura fluctuations.


    Finlay flapped his wings hard as more purple plumes rose from explosions near the World Tree. He morphed his eyes into that of a spectral roc to see what was happening.


    Fierce fighting raged among gigantic gnarled roots.


    Awakened Trees with draconic Soulhearts resisted the consuming flames, but mutated beasts with putrid mushrooms sprouting from their exposed spines drowned them with sheer numbers. Injured soldiers recuperating away from the frontlines had to take up arms and mount a feeble resistance, only to be swept by demonic chimeras of muscles and horns. Bloated humanoids wrapped in tubes and arcane machinery spewed purple flames at the goatkin trying to save their home.


    Human camps burned. So did the tents of the dwarves and elves. Burrows of the Lha¡¯at collapsed, the frog-like people scampering to the Telvari initiates frantically conjuring barriers. Sylphshades fled the fire while the Aviarii took to the air and safety.


    Many were dead. Many were dying.


    I can¡¯t save everyone. Again.


    Finlay closed his eyes for a moment to compose himself.


    Cries for help, screams of anguish. The stench of burning flesh laced with sulfur from the unearthly purple flames. This had happened more times than Finlay could remember. He became stronger after each one and still couldn¡¯t prevent the next. A cycle of failures.


    He opened his eyes. Just fight!


    He pulled his wings close to his body and dove with great speed, crashing into the biggest Node Noble he could find. One moment, the Node Noble was shaking its fleshy caps, spreading chemical clouds to control enslaved hosts, the next moment, it was paste on the cratered ground.


    Earthen spikes rippled outward from where he landed, skewering the berserking monstrosities free of the Tide¡¯s control. The earth continued welling toward the enemy forces, stretching up into a wall to slow them down. These were the abilities of the Great Mogloth and the Sand Lurker combined, the same Soulhearts favored by Hilda the Bulwark; she was much better at using them than Finlay.


    Finlay flew again, skimming low over the battlefield. He cracked whips of black wind and white fire with every flap of his wings, merging the powers of the spectral roc and Valefire Dracowyrm. Soldiers were surprised as the monsters they fought turned into smoldering pieces while they remained unharmed.


    ¡°Warden!¡± a familiar voice weakly called out.


    It came from a bloodied man leaning against a fallen Awakened Tree. Corpses of the Spore-infected littered around them.


    Finlay landed next to the man. ¡°Tavri! Where are the children? Are they¡ª?¡± Finlay looked down. Tavri clutched his stomach to stop his guts from spilling out. Finlay clenched his fist. ¡°Damn it, I don¡¯t have an Evermoss Soulheart. We need to¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m done for, Warden,¡± Tavri croaked, his old face wrinkling even more from the pain. ¡°Monk Mandolin¡­ with children. Enemies. Inner Sanctum¡­¡±


    ¡°We need to get you help.¡± Even as Finlay said it, he knew it was too late. Tavri¡¯s anima grew faint, his life force flickering. There was no help and too many needed help.


    ¡°Give me rest.¡± Tavri raised his arm. His skin was mottled purple, spores dancing tauntingly. ¡°Enslaver got me. Too weak. Inside my mind¡­ Don¡¯t let them¡­¡±


    Finlay placed his hand over Tavri¡¯s eyes. Many have asked this of him. Better die a human and deny the Sporeal Tide another host, he knew that. But it was a heavy burden no matter how justified and rational it was. He learned long ago to steel his heart.


    ¡°Many thanks,¡± Tavri whispered. ¡°Go¡­ Inner Sanctum¡­¡±


    Finlay sent a small shockwave out his hand. It passed through Tavri¡¯s head.


    Tavri slumped lower, no longer breathing.


    ¡°The Inner Sanctum,¡± Finlay echoed, narrowing his eyes.


    Majestic from afar, the World Tree revealed a decaying reality up close. Rotting holes peppered its trunk, wide swathes of bark had peeled off, and colors drained from many crumpled leaves. According to Ramuel, the lifestream below the World Tree dried up a five years ago, ushering in the fall of the goatkin empire. Remnants of their golden age nestled at the base of the World Tree, including the marble-clad Inner Sanctum where the Herd Queen and the Caretaker both resided. Finlay heard rumors of a way to the core of the World Tree¡¯s trunk through the Inner Sanctum¡ªthis should be the target of the Sporeal Tide.


    The lives of everyone in the forest relied on the World Tree. The need for Speckles for the war effort was dire, yet Finlay agreed with the Herd Queen that it was too much risk to mine under its roots. Without the World Tree, the defenders would be waiting for death.


    As Finlay flew closer to the Inner Sanctum, the more Spore-infected he saw. He couldn¡¯t figure out where they came from. He sowed destruction on the monsters, helping the Awakened Trees. Strong as the children of the World Tree were, they were few. If only the goatkin had made more.


    If¡­ There were a lot of ifs.


    No end to them if he started. No use thinking about them since he couldn¡¯t turn back time.


    Focus on the here and now, Finlay thought as he shed his wings, entering the Inner Sanctum¡¯s enormous doorway.


    It was off-limits to non-goatkin. Was. Instead of meeting Horned Blades, royal guards of the Herd Queen, an assortment of Spore-infected attacked.


    I can¡¯t waste time with you! He made forceful pushing motions as he activated his psiophant Soulheart, molding the powerful psychic blast he made into a barrier with the Soulheart of the Adam-amin Dragon. It required a massive burst of anima. The air in front of him shimmered. A forcefield violently shoved crowds of monsters down the long hallway, crushing them against each other and clearing a path.


    Finlay¡¯s legs buckled. He went down on one knee, his sternial scalding hot.


    Not yet! He should use physical attacks to be economical with his anima. No transformations; they drained anima fast and required too much concentration.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Gritting his teeth, Finlay got back on his feet and charged. Each step siphoned chunks off the stone floor, building an armor encasing his body. Soon, he was twice his actual height and many times wider, a behemoth of compacted stone. Revolting smells of gore and gunk could still penetrate his armor. As Finlay smashed through the ugly meat sacks in his way, a disconcerting sensation grew.


    The flow of dense natura wasn¡¯t right.


    Finlay entered a grand hall. Rows of columns were silver trees; the vast ceiling they held up was entwined golden branches. He expected many Prime Sporeals because of the natura disruption, but there was none among the hundreds of enslaved hosts.


    Two islands of goatkin were on opposite ends of the sea of fleshy horrors.


    To the left, Horned Blades defended a small archway. It must lead to the Herd Queen in her quarters because she wasn¡¯t with the second group. The leader of the goatkins to the right was ancient, hunched over, and draped in emerald robes. His bare chest didn¡¯t have any Soulheart, unlike the rest of the goatkins. Finlay hadn¡¯t met him before but guessed he must be the World Tree¡¯s Caretaker. The aged goatkin and his guards stood on a raised dais at the end of the grand hall, their backs to the elegant throne of crystalline branches.


    Curiously, the Spore-infected weren¡¯t attacking. They retreated and made space.


    A tall and extremely slender creature stepped forward, so thin it might break from a gust of wind. Its limbs and neck were disproportionally long, its skin the blackest of blacks as if absorbing light. Heads of different creatures, including a human, adorned its chest while the head on top of its neck was a goatkin with gem-encrusted horns.


    Is that the previous War Buck?


    This unknown monster was a black hole of energies that even Finlay¡¯s anima was affected.


    Severely spent, Finlay was weakened further in its presence. His instincts screamed he¡¯d lose. He trudged through the Spore-infected to reach the Caretaker. There was no turning back.


    The Caretaker gestured with his frail arms as if weaving a loom. His robes flapped open and out came golden vines covered in glowing red thorns, reaching for the dark creature. All vines were instantly cut into pieces. The Caretaker was thrown back, his robes turning red. The other goatkin formed a circle around the Caretaker. They were all dismembered without any hint of movement from the dark creature.


    Finlay flung a punch. His door-wide fist extended forward, plowing through monsters, and collided with the dark creature, slamming it against the wall. He shed the rest of his armor and piled it on the unknown enemy, forming a cage of stone.


    That wouldn¡¯t stop it for long.


    Finlay rushed to the Caretaker¡¯s side. ¡°Hang on!¡± He tried to put pressure on the Caretaker¡¯s wound, but it was too wide.


    All of Finlay¡¯s equipped Soulhearts were for combat. Their meager supply of healing Soulhearts was distributed only to the Healers. And they lacked high Grade ones; a Lumin Wisp Soulheart wouldn¡¯t help here. Would cauterizing the wound work?


    ¡°Familiar¡­¡± The Caretaker touched Finlay¡¯s chest. ¡°An otherworlder?¡± It was an old term for those lacking Soulhearts. What was the Caretaker trying to say? Did the Caretaker sense that Finlay wasn¡¯t of Ilaya?


    Answers could wait. Monsters were closing in.


    Finlay scooped the Caretaker off the floor. Goatkin blood coated his arms. ¡°We have to get you out of here.¡±


    ¡°World Tree¡­ seed. You have¡­¡±


    ¡°Save your energy,¡± said Finlay. ¡°Tell me about it when¡ª¡± he turned around to find the dark creature looming over them.


    ¡°Finlay, do you remember me?¡± asked one of the heads on the creature¡¯s neck¡ªa male human whose face Finlay couldn¡¯t quite place. The head shifted up the long neck as the goatkin head sidled down, exchanging positions with it. ¡°It¡¯s been years. How delightful to find you alive.¡±


    ¡°Who are you?¡± Finlay didn¡¯t care to know about this head but was intent on buying time. ¡°Did we meet¡ªurgk!¡± Stinging lined his neck, followed by warmth.


    Blood. His own blood oozed out of the cut. He didn¡¯t see the dark creature¡¯s attack that easily sliced his hardened flesh. Pure instinct made him jerk back at the last moment and keep his head. This was the second time today, and his luck had run out.


    Before Finlay could pool his anima to stop the wound, he found himself raised off the floor. His abdomen burned. The dark creature skewered him and the Caretaker with a tentacle coming out of the bejeweled goatkin¡¯s mouth. The flow of Finlay¡¯s anima was thrust into disarray.


    I¡¯m going to die¡­


    Finlay tasted blood. Rage filled his heart.


    Not yet!


    One last squeeze of willpower. Finlay drew in natura and refined it even as his consciousness wavered. Anima rushed to his sternial. Every drop he could muster. He¡¯d overload his Soulhearts and pray the explosion would take this bastard with him.


    ¡°Wait,¡± the Caretaker whispered, coughing blood. His hand remained on Finlay¡¯s chest. ¡°A chance¡­ we still have.¡±


    ¡°Before this day ends,¡± said the dark creature, ¡°your World Tree will fall. My roots will replace its roots. And I will move to another world¡­ I spread.¡± Its other heads joined in chanting. ¡°I spread, I spread, I spre¡ª¡±


    The wall behind the throne burst open. Vines thicker than tree trunks entered the grand hall. The light they radiated made the monsters cower.


    The dark creature pulled Finlay and the Caretaker towards it. Finlay formed a barrier around its goatkin head and severed the tentacle¡ªthe last act of his Adam-amin Soulheart before shattering. The glowing vines caught Finlay and the Caretaker as they fell, forming a cocoon around them.


    ¡°Traveler from another world!¡± The Caretaker¡¯s eyes burned white in the darkness and his voice changed. ¡°My life for a second chance, I give.¡±


    Wha-what do you mean? Finlay gargled blood, tasting iron. His throat was blocked. He willed his thoughts to reach the Caretaker for he could no longer speak. Something pierced his chest. Vines from the Caretaker¡¯s Soulheart wrapped Finlay¡¯s sternial.


    [Plant it!] It wasn¡¯t the Caretaker talking anymore. There was no sound but the voice shook Finlay¡¯s bones. [A second chance. Plant the seed!]


    Plant¡­ what?


    The vines protecting them disintegrated. Tendrils of the dark creature entered the cocoon and pierced Finlay¡¯s head. He was already dead when his body was shredded.


    <hr>


    Finlay opened his eyes. He was looking down at a table.


    A white round thing on a table.


    He raised a brow. A cake?


    A cake with a message¡ªBest wishes on your farming journey!


    Popping noises. Finlay flinched, wary of an attack.


    Sparkling things fell on him. He held out his hand to catch some¡­ confetti? When did that word last cross his mind? Ilaya had rituals scattering grains and such, but this piece of reflective paper looked like something from¡­ Earth.


    Clapping followed. He flinched again.


    Three people materialized around the table. They took his picture with their phones. A small room constructed itself around them. Walls, windows, door, air conditioner. A jungle of buildings sprouted outside the glass panes.


    ¡°Man, I told you to point the popper away,¡± someone said. ¡°You got confetti on the cake.¡±


    That was in actual English, not Angloise translated into English in Finlay¡¯s head.


    ¡°I was aiming at Finlay because confetti should fall on the celebrant,¡± was the reply of the other man.


    Memories of Earth which deteriorated through the years on Ilaya rushed back into Finlay¡¯s brain. His life literally flashed before his eyes. A massive headache followed and he almost fell face-first on the cake. He planted his palms on the table to support himself. His eyes watered from the pain.


    A lady wearing a dark blue blazer leaned forward. ¡°Do you like the cake, Finlay?¡±


    Sarah was her name. She worked four cubicles from his. The other two, Earl and Derrick, were also his co-workers. They entered the company five years ago, along with many other fresh graduates. Most of their ¡®batch¡¯ have since left, so they decided to celebrate the next who¡¯d resign. Good friends. They made working here somewhat tolerable.


    Earl, Finlay¡¯s next-door cubicle neighbor, patted his back. ¡°Are you seriously crying, man?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d also cry if you¡¯ve succeeded in escaping corporate slavery,¡± said Derrick, their resident gym enthusiast.


    ¡°Tha-thanks for the cake,¡± Finlay managed to say. Those were his exact words last time. Twelve hours from now, he¡¯d be transported to Ilaya.