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A World Long Sundered -- Chapter 8 PART 1

The storm raged over the Myrr mountains. As if celebrating some long-awaited victory, the wind and rain thundered through the valley of the R’leigh Bo. The valley had not experienced severe storm for aeons. Mother hadmade sure of that.

Only now, with Mother gone, the R’leigh Bo would not heed her command.

To be fair though, it never had. It was a miracle she was allowed to remain here at all. Any ability to command the great tree had passed from this world along with Mother Sylva.

No, Mother is Sylva no longer. I am. Not that it matters anymore. It will not be long now. The R’leigh Bo was dying.

Sylva’s thoughts were newly her own, even childish, and dreadfully isolated. Never before had Sylva expressed a thought apart from that of the Mother. And now, to be thrust into this broken world without Mother’s ever-present guidance left Sylva confused. Confused and outraged.

She could still see the dumbfounded look upon that senseless boy’s face as he scurried away from her. Did he even know what had been lost? Or for that matter, did she?

“How could you let this happen, Mother?” Her scream startled a vulture that had sought refuge from the storm amidst the boughs. That such a creature was even allowed among the sacred branches enraged Sylva further. Her emotions were as inexperienced as her thoughts—they flittered from loss, to confusion, and then anger before returning to loss again. With no canopy to protect it, the storm waters seeped into every crevice of the Bo. Sylva endured every icy drop. And with every drop, her desperation grew.

Sylva could no longer feel the Great Pulse. Mother had never lied to her about the state of the world. Sapphyre was dying, she knew. “But I thought we still had time, Mother…” The power below remained silent.

Sylva needed complete concentration just to maintain her presence within the R’leigh Bo. Within the tree, movement and thought were at best sluggish. Never before had she felt such a disconnection to the tree. She felt a pressure building within it, surrounding her, pressing upon her being. Expelling her.

“Please no! Let me stay here…with you. There is nothing out there for me. We can pass from this season together—and be with Mother again…"

A world-wrenching crack of lightning shattered an ancient limb of the Bo. Sylva shrieked as huge charred and flaming sections splintered and crashed to the waterlogged earth below. The pain she should have felt was deadened by her now rigid link with the R’leigh Bo. Stunned by the lightning strike, her focus wavered, and the pressure ejected her from the depths of Bo’s trunk. Preceded by a brief flash, Sylva was thrown from the base of the tree into the swollen stream waters that now flooded the glade.

Her head sunk below the muddy waters momentarily. Surfacing, she gasped, more from the shock of the cold than a need for air. Fighting the water, she pushed herself first to her knees and then to her feet; she waded to the Bo’s trunk. Hesitating slightly, she put a shivering hand on the smooth ivory surface and concentrated.

“Oh, my Heart! Please do not do this. You are my haven, my sanctuary. Let me in. Together, we can find the Pulse again…” Her violet eyes tightly shut, she attempted to focus on the needs of the Bo in order to conceal the doubt she felt within. She had never before found the Great Pulsewithout Mother before. Can I find it this time, alone? And without the R’leigh Bo’s connection to the Pulse, the Nexus was far too weak to find. If only you had given me the Legacy, Mother…

She had both hands on the tree now, leaning against it. Rain continued to pelt her from above, the naked branches doing little to protect her. The tree remained silent, yet she still felt its dwindling energy. It was foreign now, as if she were hearing a once familiar voice underwater—distant and distorted.

She fell to her knees, the enormity of the situation weighing upon her. How could you expect me to do this alone, Mother? There at the roots of the R’leigh Bo—quite possibly the last remnant of the First Age and the only connection to the Nexus she had ever known—she cried.

She had gone so long without tears, even when Mother had faded from this world, she could not bring herself to cry in front of the boy outsider. No matter how much Mother had loved him.

But now she could hold her tears no longer. Head down and hands still upon the tree, she choked out words through her sobbing.

“Why, Mother? You had to know. By saving him, you have…” Sylva let loose a cry of anguish then finished, “…abandoned me.”

Even in her desperation, she could imagine her mother’s response, “There had been no time, daughter.”

She screamed at the ground, “But he’s only a child—a human! We are immortal!”

No longer, came her next thought.

Lightning flashed again. Sylva flinched, her hand and knees slipped out from under her and she fell into the muddy waters. Defeated, she had no intention of getting up again. She lay there—still. Had the waters always been this cold? Was this what it felt like outside the protection of the Bo? Before, they had energized her, but now the water only made her weary. Her eyes half closed as she rested against the immense roots. The ebb and flow of the ancient creature’s life force still reverberated through Sylva’s mind, it’s hum barely perceptible.

And then it ceased.

Her eyes shot open. “No!” She jumped to her feet and beat her hands against the trunk. She yelled through her sobbing, “Let me in! My Heart, let me in…I will not leave you here to rot. I can guide you just as Mother did. Please let me try.” Her pounding fists accentuated her words.

She knew it was futile, the Pulse was too far gone. Sylva sunk her consciousness deeper into the tree, probing. I only need a spark...please!

Without her Mother’s Legacy, Sylva was nearly powerless. There had been no time for Mother to pass along the required knowledge of ages. The millennia of experiences the R’leigh Bo had accumulated, everything that Mother and those before her had known and discovered, vast repertoires of knowledge, ancient secrets and mysteries, the history of Sapphyre itself—all lost with Mother’s passing.

All for the sake of a single human boy.

Heartsick, Sylva could withhold her rage no longer. Her head whipped towards the sky, throwing her soaking blue tresses behind her. She let out a scream to rival the storm.

The storm responded.

Sylva’s body arced as the fury of the storm engulfed her. It felt as if her mind expanded into a vast realm of burning possibilities. She had not been prepared for its onslaught, her anger had blinded her. Yet, it was her anger that now linked her to the storm. She looked at her hands and felt the raw energies that flowed within. Is this the Nexus? Did I somehow…She left the thought unfinished, her gaze came back to the Bo. Not completely understanding her actions, she let instinct carry her forward.Thrusting her hands upon her age-old friend, she willed the power of the storm into it in an attempt to force the Pulse to consciousness.

Like dry moss to the flame, Pulse flared to life again. Sylva did not hesitate. Through the link that was the Great Pulse, Sylva fed the power of the storm into the unknown depths beneath her--probing, calling. She found what she searched for. The Nexus erupted, billowing forth from the lightless places below. Eyes widening, a small smile spread across Sylva’s face as the ancient tree’s life force flared into being once again. Intuitively, she brought all the forces together within her, the storm, the Pulse, and the Nexus. Her body convulsed and her head arched backwards as the forces surged through her. A look of panic replaced Sylva’s earlier smile of victory. Too much! I can’t hold it…it’s… She felt the forces consuming her.

“You will die, little one.”

The voice echoed throughout her head, temporarily deadening the pain that now racked her small body. She had never heard such a voice before. Closing her eyes, she focused on the voice again.

“Let me go, little one. You are too young.”

“Who are you?” She paused. “Is that you, my Heart?” How was that possible? The R’leigh Bo had never spoken to her, or to Mother.

“Release me, child. My season in this world nears its end, but yours is just beginning.”

“No!” It was all she could do to force the word out of her mouth. “I will not. I will not abandon you like…”

“Find the boy, little one. Remember your mother’s final words.”

The boy. Rage welled up within her once again. “The boy!” She was sick of the boy and his family’s constant meddling. Sick of how the boy and his flippant sister scurried through her branches like mice. Sick of how they stole the Bo’s precious blossoms year after year. And now Mother was gone forever because of the boy…

Through the pain, Sylva opened her eyes. Fueled by the fury within, Sylva’s face contorted in murderous disgust. She let the fury guide her—pull her into the force of the storm itself.

“No, little one…do not…”

She became the storm.

Continue to part 2