Chapter 249: Within the Depths; Mother’s Anomalies

At the heart of Liaheim, near the Tree of Life, a great hawk, slightly smaller than the mighty Angola, soared upward with several elves on its back as it ascended toward the crown of the colossal tree.

It alighted upon a wide platform woven from living boughs. The elves dismounted swiftly. Among them were the captain of the elven guard and his squad, all bearing grave expressions as they made their way toward the only seat of power in Liaheim, nestled within the tree’s crown: the Eden Plain.

This garden, known as the Eden Plain, was the closest any living being could reside to the Tree of Life’s primordial essence. It was the only space in this peaceful elven city with even a whisper of governance.

Though the elves admitted neither nobles nor commoners—no class nor caste as in the kingdoms of men—they, too, needed some form of a governing body in lieu of spiritual transcendence or a hive mind.

The Eden Plain was exactly that: a sanctuary shaped not by hand, but formed spontaneously by the Tree of Life itself. Its boughs had woven together a miniature world of mountain and valley, stone and stream—a naturally sculpted realm.

The limbs of the Tree of Life had twisted themselves into rocky forms. Through the Tree’s peculiar gift, even these arboreal masses retained the vibrance and vitality of living wood despite their stone-like appearance.

At the very center of the crown lay a hidden passage into the Tree’s inner heart. Known only to a chosen few within elven society, this passage was the true reason for the garden’s existence.

Despite its name, the “Eden Plain” resembled more a verdant mountain hollow, its recessed floor leading directly to the tree’s secret core. The wooded slopes and winding paths bloomed with quiet, radiant beauty.

Treehouses stood scattered across the landscape, connected by pebble trails. At the hollow’s center rose a domed structure of white stone—a meeting place for the elven elders. Though it initially seemed out of place amidst the natural scenery, on closer inspection, it harmonized surprisingly well with its surroundings.

A spring flowed down from the great boughs, water drawn directly from the Tree’s essence. This “Fountain of Life,” with its power to heal and purify, evoked a rich vitality in the air, saturating the garden with its vivifying mist.

The elven captain and his squad arrived at the threshold of the garden. There, silver-armored sentinels stood guard—elves clad not in the light gear of rangers, but in full heavy plate, each bearing either a massive two-handed sword or longbow taller than a man.

These were no ordinary sentries. They were all grand knights in their own right. One among them, visibly older considering he had passed his first millennium, had even ascended to the realm of legends. His power was tempered and restrained, like a honed arrowhead sheathed in velvet.

“I am Guard Captain Solin,” he announced formally. “I have already conveyed our purpose through the Tree to the Elders and received authorization to enter the Eden Plain. We request passage.”

The silver-clad elves nodded slightly, without verbal response. The ground trembled. Beside the guards stood several enormous trees—war-trees of ancient lineage. One of them began to stir.

Its massive roots tore from the earth and reformed into legs. The giant tree rose to stand, exuding an overwhelming life force that rolled outward like a storm. The pressure alone made Solin’s breath hitch.

These were no mere sentient trees. They were war-trees—beings who, under the Tree of Life’s influence, had ascended beyond the limits of treant-kind. They were legends in truth, living weapons grown to defend the sacred Tree.

Fortunately, their nature remained gentle despite their strength. This war-tree had risen up not in hostility, but simply to verify Solin’s authorization.

Solin whispered in the ancient tongue of nature. A phantom oak leaf, glowing green, rose from his palm and drifted gently to the war-tree before fusing with its bark.

A deep, resonant rumble followed. The war-tree, having received and acknowledged the message encoded within the leaf, lifted its massive wooden arm in a gesture of welcome and cleared the path.

The silver-armored sentinels stepped aside in silence. Solin and his companions were granted entry.

Within the tranquil valley, Solin led his unit toward one of the many treehouses. The elders didn’t dwell here constantly, but there were always at least two in residence. Today, Solin had arranged to report to one: Gewen, an old friend of Sieg.

As they approached, the treehouse door opened of its own accord. Elder Gewen sat calmly at a wooden table within as he awaited them.

“Sit,” he said gently. “Tell me everything you’ve discovered—what you know and what you suspect.”

“Yes, Elder,” Solin replied, settling across from him.

He took a deep breath and began.

“You are already aware of the incident that occurred in the guest quarter. I won’t repeat the details—it was a grave failure on our part. I’ve come to speak not only of the facts but of my doubts. Perhaps I’m being overly cautious, but…”

“There is no fault in caution,” Gewen said with a nod. “Speak freely. I will consider your words carefully.”

“It’s been over a decade since the last similar incident, when a void-corrupted elf slew his own companions. Liaheim has known no murder since. That alone makes this event suspicious.

“But what truly troubles me is the nature of the attacker—a plant-based lifeform. It killed the orc using the forbidden technique known as life siphoning.

He gestured. One member of his team stepped forward and produced a mana crystal. It projected the image of the creature—a hideous, malformed woodling as reconstructed by the black cat Ahn.

“…”

Elder Gewen observed the image silently, undisturbed by the monstrosity’s grotesque appearance. He waited for Solin to continue.

“What unsettles me most,” Solin went on, “is that the magical arrays embedded in the surrounding trees—the ones that grow with the Tree of Life itself and form our defense systems—completely failed to detect the intruder. Not even the Tree’s own offshoots noticed it.”

The treehouse fell into a contemplative hush. After confirming that Solin had finished, Gewen gave a slow nod.

“Well done,” he said. “Your insight and prudence are invaluable. Life siphoning, and a being undetected by both our wards and the Tree itself… I believe I may know what we’re dealing with. I will begin an investigation immediately.

“You’re aware of the recent disturbances in the Forest of Origin, I trust? What you’ve brought to light may be the thread that ties those events to us here in Liaheim.”

“Then I leave it in your hands.” Solin rose, bowed respectfully, and exited the treehouse with his team.

As the door closed behind them, Gewen leaned back in his chair, eyes shut in thought. Then, standing, he stepped outside and began walking toward the tree’s central passage, deep in the crown.

“Life siphoning…”

He repeated the name softly as he walked. Most elves only knew that the technique was forbidden, but few understood its origins.

Life siphoning was a forbidden druidic art that violently extracted the essence of life itself, turning an abstract force into something tangible and consumable. Its overwhelming lethality and potential for abuse had led the elves to outlaw it long ago. Only a handful of senior elves and a few druids retained an understanding of the technique.

Yet its prohibition was not what most concerned Gewen. What truly mattered to him was its origin: the Tree of Life.

The art of life siphoning was modeled after the Tree itself—just as the Tree absorbed magic, sunlight, and the myriad energies of this realm and converts them into life force, so too did the spell.

But whereas the Tree drew from the world, while life siphoning drew from the living.

“If the only concern was someone capable of wielding life siphoning,” Gewen murmured, “then this wouldn’t warrant such consideration. But…”

He pressed deeper into the valley, guided by a trickling stream born of the Spring of Life. Thoughts stirred within him, circling around the implications of what Solin had revealed.

“Undetected by the ancient wardings interwoven with the great trees, unseen even by the Tree of Life itself—and yet, as a plant-like lifeform, capable of wielding techniques derived directly from the Tree… without guidance or teaching…”

His voice trailed off. In the next instant, Gewen’s form blurred and vanished, slipping past a concealed enchantment woven across the Eden Plain—an illusionary lock designed to hide the entrance to the Tree’s inner sanctum.

Within the Tree of Life, he gently laid a hand against the wooden wall of the passage. The bark was warm, pulsing faintly with vibrant vitality. This tunnel was no mere corridor—it was the Tree’s own body, living and breathing.

“What has happened to you lately?” Gewen whispered. “And if my suspicions are true… what compelled you to act this way?”

As he moved deeper into the Tree’s heart, the air thickened with vitality, so densely concentrated it was almost palpable. As the vitality in the air finally condensed into glowing droplets—akin to liquefied mana—Gewen stepped into a vast, open chamber.

Faint green motes of light drifted in the air, illuminating the interior of the Tree with a soft radiance. At the heart of the chamber lay a crystalline pool of vibrant emerald hue. The liquid within it was not water, but pure, liquefied life force.

Gewen knelt beside the pool and submerged a hand in its depths. A warm current surged gently through him. The pool’s vitality flowed into his body, replenishing his strength, though he had not felt especially tired to begin with.

He closed his eyes. It was only a hand immersed in a pool, and yet… surrounded by the Tree’s warmth, by that boundless, nurturing life energy, Gewen felt as though he had returned to a mother’s embrace. Perhaps it was no illusion.

Though modern elves procreated much as humans did, all elves knew that their origin lay in the three Trees of Life. The three trees were once one—a mighty World Tree, from whose boughs the first high elves were born.

The Tree of Life was as a mother to all elves. This chamber, connected to her very core, was no different from a mother’s arms.

In the ancient war that had swept across the continent—the war against the Abyss—the high elves had feared for the World Tree’s survival. To save it, and to win the war, they performed a mysterious rite to merge with the Tree. In doing so, they split the World Tree into three, each new Tree carrying a fragment of the original’s soul.

The Trees took root in three distant corners of the continent, and an elven city bloomed around each one. Liaheim was one such.

Gewen opened his eyes and looked to the bottom of the pool. There lay a spear of intricate, ancient craftsmanship, its wooden form glowing faintly with flickers of golden light—one of the sacred relics of the elves, the Primeval Lance Kasimir.

Its current state reflected the Tree’s condition. When the Tree was whole, Kasimir radiated a constant golden glow. Now, its flickering light revealed that the Tree was actively absorbing life force—desperately trying to fill a mysterious void.

Gewen and the elven elders had discovered this anomaly some time ago. They had long been searching for the source of the depletion, but they weren’t high elves. They lacked the means to commune with the Tree, their “Silent Mother.” And so, the truth remained elusive.

Yet now, given all he’d learned—from the missing vitality, to the twisted woodling described by the squad captain, to its ability to wield life siphoning, to remain undetected by the sacred wards, to absorb life force—Gewen could no longer deny the origin of that creature. It had come from the Tree of Life.

“Why would you do this, Mother…? Is it because of the dwarves?

“The pact formed during the War on the Abyss was meant to preserve friendship and ensure victory… but now, the dwarves seem to be using it for purposes it was never meant to serve.”

Gewen’s voice was low, but his expression hardened. In his eyes, a glint of danger sparked to life.

“We must stop them, before things spiral beyond our understanding into something far worse.”

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