Chapter Text
Out beneath a moonless sky the frost sparkles like stars fallen from heaven. The wind whispers a secret, telling only one its hushed words of wisdom. Sweeping branches in endless tangles rushing up toward the sky, lichen and ivy its silvered hair. Many climb over its beckoning roots in search of sanctuary, resting their weary souls against its bark and crying out for answers.
It is a long pondered choice. To be reborn, or to continue on. Most find death and the promise of a blissful afterlife a relief to their exhausted minds, diving straight into the world beyond the moment they reach the heart of the Tree. Most, not all. Not all find the idea of leaving the living world behind appealing. Some are criminals, terrified of judgment and hoping for redemption in their next life. Others are gone too early and want a chance to begin again.
The Tree holds infinite patience, neither encouraging or discouraging any spirit’s choice but simply cradling them in her loving branches as they wrestle within themselves.
In the farthest corners of the earth you will find the roots, connecting all living things. Families will decorate and hallow these sacred spots, sending prayers and blessings to their passed loved ones.
It is winter, and though the leaves have fallen to create fleeting hills, beneath their blanket lie many in need of the warmth and protection. Unable to feel the cold, he is at rest in one of the highest branches, swaying in the breeze.
“ But would I remember myself?” he asks.
“ Of course not, my child,” the tree laughs. “What would be the purpose of a new life if you were still stained by the old?”
“So it’s possible that I’ve lived a thousand lives and I would never know?”
“No, you would remember here. Just not during your times of living.”
“Oh.” He scratches his head, feeling only slightly comforted. “I just...my life was so short. I didn’t even get to grow up.”
The Tree trembles, as though stifling another amused chuckle.
“Even those who live to old age may not feel grown up.”
The boy ponders this, leaning his head back.
“Mother Tree?”
“Hmm?”
“Did she go on?” He asks in the softest of whispers, afraid he might be asking a forbidden question.
“That girl you followed around? Would that make a difference in your choice?” She sways curiously. The boy’s translucent cheeks seem to flush; he hides his face as any embarrassed child might do.
“Well…” he stammers, “I’m worried about her is all.”
Tenderly the Tree hums, crafting her answer carefully.
“Even if the two of you both returned, you wouldn’t remember her. And she wouldn’t remember you.”
“Oh.” He falls silent. “I wouldn’t have any memories, but wouldn’t my heart remember?” Anxiously he climbs down, stumbling a few times but always caught before he fell. “I can always come back. I should at least try.”
“You’ve made your choice, then?”
He nods, trembling, his eyes bright and round with innocent fear.
“Follow this root,” The ground becomes as glass, and he can see the white roots down below. One of them becomes luminous, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. He nearly forgets to say goodbye; in his excitement he sprints after the glow, doubling back to shout his thanks before taking off again. Running, he finds, is much more enjoyable when you’re dead. Much faster, and his legs don’t hurt even though he covers miles and miles. The outside world changes rapidly all around him, from winter to spring, summer to fall.
He stops as the light fades out. All is dark around him, the night sky littered with stars and the ground glistening with dew. The smallest of houses nestled in the crook of a hill catches his eye. Outside a bit of the root twists into a loop, where three pairs of baby shoes are carefully hung and surrounded by wreathes woven from branches of the Tree.
Entering inside the home, he sees one room, with a husband and wife asleep in the corner on a downy blanket. Instinctively he goes over to them, peering at her belly where something is curled up inside.
“Is this for me?”
The mother seems kind and loving, and the father hugs her protectively. They didn’t have much, but neither did his first family. That is alright with him. Closing his eyes and taking a nervous breath, he touches his mother, entering into his new beginning.
Never had a mother been as proud of her son as this child’s new mother was of him. First smile, first solid food, first steps. It didn’t matter what the milestone was, she was delighted to cheer him on. He grows quickly into adolescence, helping to work the ground with his father and care for their meager farm. He is happy.
The day he finally meets the one he is looking for, she is standing on the banks of a river. He is stunned by her beauty, mouth hanging open, heart pounding in his chest. Calling to her, she smiles back, beckoning him to cross. The river is high, being after a storm. Carefully he crosses, swimming deftly against the current. Soaked to the skin he emerges, scattering droplets as he scrambles up the bank.
She blushes, giggling at his soggy appearance. She says her name but his tongue seems to be useless and he can only bob his head, shaking her hand after drying it on the grass. Her cotton dress with flowered embroidery stitched lovingly on, every part of her seems carefully made, from the diamonds in her eyes to the long tresses of hair down her back.
Self-conscious of his own shaggy brown hair plastered to his face from the river, he suggests they go and lie out in the pasture. The sun is warm and pleasant as they lay a respectful distance apart, chatting about their lives with all the innocence of youth. He leaves with a huge smile on his face, his heart feeling strangely light.
It’s a shame that as he makes his way across the river, the sun is starting to dim. He is unable to see the log now caught on the bank, creating a rush of water that sends him down beneath the surface. Briefly he struggles to regain the surface but in the dark he grabs the log by mistake, where it shifts, pinning him by his belt.
The Tree is surprised as he stumbles back to her embrace, sobbing as yet again he was whisked away too soon.
“I saw her, Mother Tree. I saw her again. But now it’s pointless.”
She offers him one of her fruits to lift his despair. He sleeps after that for what might have been many seasons or a few hours. Time means nothing in her world. Awakening, he begs to be sent back, stubbornly refusing to even pause for a moment to think.
Always neutral, knowing that whatever happens will come to an end in its own time, she offers him another life. Eagerly he plunges in, only to be beaten to death by an abusive father three months after her meets her again. He was only five years old.
His words are far too developed for his appearance as he flops at the foot of the tree in exasperation.
“Can’t you do something to fix this? I can’t keep dying like this.” Pudgy cheeks form a frustrated pout.
“The moment you are born, your life is already measured,” she says gently. “If I were to control every life, it would hardly be fair.”
“But it’s not every life. Just mine and hers. I would live a thousand lives to just live one with her. But I’d prefer it didn’t go on that long.”
The Tree considers this.
“You could offer a thousand lives for the sake of one. But enduring that could have terrible consequences. Each life makes the soul heavier and harder to bear.”
Without hesitation he jumps at the chance, throwing his arms around the tree in a burst of joy.
“Thank you! Thank you!” he cries.
A single strand of lichen falls at his feet. He picks it up, tying it around his neck. He pauses.
“Wait...but will she be forced to live a thousand lives as well?”
Knowingly the Tree smiles.
“Where you go, she always will follow.”