Everyone gathered around a small fire-pit that one of the soldiers had made. The dim flame provided a small amount of warmth on what was a frigid and overcast morning. The clearance in the clouds above kept the wet away. How this tree controlled the weather in such a manner was a wonder.

The question on everyone’s lips was the same as it was before. What were we going to do with the tree? The Amendment had been put into a tough spot, I didn’t know how they were going to break if it came down to a vote. They’d invested a lot of time and reputation into casting Benadora as the villain in this situation. If we removed the tree and the giant problem came to an end, they’d be the losers. But they couldn’t reasonably argue to keep it without telling us more about it.

Fernwell stood at the head of the group and decided to put the screws to Cranston, “Is there anything you’d like to tell us, Cranston? You are the most erudite scholar amongst us.”

Cranston shook his head, “I know nothing more than what I have already said. These trees are often regarded as myth or a tall tale. The researcher in me demands that we preserve it for further study.”

“You know that’s not going to happen. This place is extremely dangerous, and if it’s causing the giants to come to Pascen – they won’t go away until it’s dealt with.”

Indeed, several groups of giants had walked by during the night, at least according to Cali. This was a hotspot of giant movement. A group of scholars wouldn’t be able to spend a large amount of time here without very dedicated protection.

Fernwell snapped his fingers, “I’m making the call. This tree is going goodbye.” One of the mercenaries wield a large axe was given the go-ahead. He carried his bulky body to the tree and stood under the branches with an apprehensive look. He hefted the axe into the air and attempted to slice through the trunk.

With a thunk the blade bounced right off.

He was puzzled. He studied the edge of his axe to ensure that it had not become blunted when he wasn’t looking. Satisfied that it didn’t need sharpening, he tried again, only to replicate the result. Throwing up his arms in defeat, he returned to his jeering comrades. “It’s as tough as steel!” he declared, “It doesn’t have a bloody scratch on it!”

True to his word, the whitened bark was completely untouched from both the impact and the sharp point. I approached and inspected the area where they met with the tip of my finger. Stigma emerged from behind the trunk with that characteristic malicious smile.

“I can help you, Master. These buffoons will not discover the way themselves.”

“And what would that be?”

“These trees are formed from light. They are extremely durable to conventional attack. Unless… someone is wielding a certain sword of darkness.”

“Let me guess, you?”

“Well done Master! By using my magical power, we can strip the tree of it's protection and rot it from the inside.”

“But if I draw you here, all hell’s going to break loose. I can’t trust any of these people.”

The Inquisitors were irritating enough in their own right, but they also had a cult-like following of informants and collaborators. Why anyone placed their trust in them was baffling. To the layman they were infallible defenders of light. They’d scarper away like a rat in a sewer and tell them every little detail of whatever crime had allegedly been committed.

Any one of the people in the camp could be waiting to spill the beans.

The Inquisitors didn’t like visiting the Rumbling Coast. Adel only got through with the graces of coming alone. A larger hunting party would be turned back at the border by the Feddies. But if they had reason to believe Stigma was here, they’d find a way to track me. It was an open secret that they had civilian spies in every major town and city on the continent, and even some in major foreign ports.

A rustling in the grass drew my ear. Just beyond the crest of a grassy hill, the ground cracked and quaked. I stepped back from the tree and watched the earth rise and fall away, revealing the form of a strange creature. “What the fuck is that?” I asked.

It was tall, with gangly limbs and a long, trunk-like muzzle that reminded me of an anteater. It was covered in cyan skin, exposing internal bones like it hadn’t eaten in years. The party didn’t seem to take it that seriously. They watched in amused silence as the thing opened its beady black eyes and stared straight through them.

Cali was not so jovial. She drew her halberd and prepared for an attack. The creature was so slow and listless, that I wasn’t convinced that it could attack us.

“Do you know what that is?” I asked.

“No. But it appeared when we attacked the tree, so it cannot be friendly.”

The monster finally became cognizant of the men pointing at it. It’s head tilted to the side, looking at the axeman who had swung at the tree just moments before. It took one long, wobbling step over the mound it emerged from, and another, and then another. The laughter stopped and a profound worry spread through the group. This wasn’t a giant.

Twenty meters from the group, it held out one of its overly long arms and pointed a frail finger at the axeman. It stood there, doing little more than singling him out with the bony digit for several seconds. The worry evaporated, until he started to scream in pain. The entire party backed away from him as his body tensed up like a statue.

I watched in horror as his skin started to bulge and shift, it was like ropes were being corded around his forearms from the inside. His neck suffering a similar fate. Unable to reach up and clutch his windpipe, he gargled out a pain groan before passing out. Then, slowly, painfully, a white branch began to pierce outwards from his left eye.

“Fuck me.”

“It does appear to be hostile,” Stigma snarked back.

The fact that a tree was growing out of his corpse made that clear.

Though despite the truly horrendous sight of the newly formed human planter, the creature remained mostly still. It made no moves to attack anyone else. It was protecting the tree. It had killed him for attacking it with an axe. None of the men saw fit to charge in and becoming the next decorative corpse in this magical field.

Cranston shook his head, “It seems we have incurred it’s wrath with our actions.”

Marcus was shaken. He walked to the man’s body and studied the twisted expression of sheer agony on his face, frozen in time until he rotted away to nothing. I’d seen a lot of dead bodies in my time, but this one was some special. I could feel the bile rising up in my throat just looking at him. Blood covered branches poking from every crevice and hole. Surely the internal damage was even more severe. What a terrible way to die.

“If we want to kill this tree, we’re gonna’ need to kill that thing first,” Fernwell sighed.

I got into range and cast [inspect.]

???? ??? ????????????

Only to receive a blank readout of question marks. This beast had come from somewhere that our minds could not comprehend, not did it subscribe to the same rules and laws that we did. We couldn’t gauge its true strength. A frontal assault could easily end with all of us sharing the same fate as the dead mercenary. What kind of foul magic had it cast? What were its limitations? And how much punishment could it take from sword and sorcery?

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t even have a name.”

Fernwell was confused, “What does that mean?”

“It means that the collective mortal mind has not yet bore witness to it in great numbers, nor have tales of it’s existence,” Cranston explained, “The way we assign meanings and words to creatures shapes the information we can summon using inspect. This is a mysterious and dangerous monster.”

“It killed Clark,” Marcus declared angrily, “I don’t care what it’s bloody name is – it’s going to pay for messing with my boys.” His band cheered in affirmation. They were hungry for revenge. Such a thing would only cloud their judgement.

“We don’t even know what it is,” I said, trying to physically hold him back from charging in, “Or if we can even kill it.”

“There’s no such thing as an unkillable monster! Giants, drakes, wolves, we kill ‘em all!” Marcus had become so infuriated that spittle flew from his mouth and landed on my helmet. “I’m not letting some fucking tree stop me!”

Indecision struck Fernwell. Everyone was on edge, even as the culprit loomed just meters away from us. What could he say to Marcus that would convince him to take another course of action? As it turned out, nothing. Marcus raised his hand into the air and dropped it back down again. The soldiers drew their weapons and assembled into a loose formation.

I stayed back and watched.

The ranged attackers struck first, just as they had when felling the giants we met along the way. A volley of arrows from bow traditional and mechanical flew at the tree’s guardian. They embedded themselves into the soft flesh, yet the creature did not cry out in pain, nor did it show any signs of losing strength. It turned to face the approaching mercenaries.

Who, one by one, started to slow to a crawl.

It didn’t take me long to realize why. All of them had been struck by the self-same magic that had killed their compatriot. A chorus of screams echoed through the valley as each and every one of them were constricted from the inside by magical branches. Dragged to a halt and killed by suffocation, a tree trunk sprouting from their mouths and blooming with magical flowers. In seconds, the entire band had been killed in unison.

Marcus fell to his knees.

“What the… no. It can’t be…”

The guardian let out a gurgling roar, before returning to the same listless stance that it held before. Even getting closer to it was dangerous. They never stood a chance.

“Master, you must destroy the tree. I think that demonstration of light magic was enough of an indication of how this will go.”

“And how does that help us?”

“Just trust me! Destroying the tree will rob it of its power!”

I was going to regret this so bad.

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, drawing Stigma and hoping to all that was holy that the beast was too slow to strike me too. I leaped into the air and brought the blade down into a stabbing motion. True to her word, the dark magic that enveloped the blade piercing right through the whitened bark and cut to the heart of the trunk. The luminous shine that once protected was corrupted, turning an inky purple.

The monster turned and wailed, but its own body was beginning to break down in a similar manner. It withered away into dust as the corruption took hold. The tree remained standing, now stained an entirely different colour to before. I strained my arms and pulled her back out again, staggering back and collapsing onto the grassy ground beneath.

The skies above shifted violently. The clear patch formed by the magic was filled in with cloud like an empty basin being filled with water. The winds had settled once more. The only people left were me, Cali, Adrian, Marcus, Fernwell, Cranston and their respective escorts.

Marcus leapt to his feet and charged at me, grabbing me by my collar and pulling me up with him.

“You! What was that?”

“I solved our problem.”

Cranston adjusted his glasses, “I dare say that he is wielding the sword of darkness.”

Marcus was enraged and jumped to a hasty conclusion, “You let them die? You let my fucking boys die?!”

“I didn’t let them die Marcus. You got a hot head and sent them in before we had a plan!”

“Bullshit! You’re gonna’ walk over there and eat their souls. This entire thing was a setup!”

I didn’t dignify his claim with a response. I snatched his wrist and twisted it as hard as I could, pulling him into a locked position beneath my knee. “Watch your fucking mouth - or I’ll cut out your tongue.” I released him, only to kick him back down the grassy hill. He rolled several times and came to a stop at the bottom.

“Now this is a turn of events,” Cranston smirked, “Please go on. Don’t let us stop you.”

“And you can shut up as well,” I responded. I closed in on the prone mercenary leader with my weapon drawn, “So Marcus, what’s your play? Gonna’ run off to the inquisition and squeal?”

“Y…Yes! I-”

I cut in, “No. No you’re not. You either walk away a silent man, or a dead one. It doesn't make no difference to me.”

Fernwell and his men made no motion to stop the anarchy that had broken out amongst the party. Adrian tried to plead with me, “Ren, please. This situation is already dire!”

“Sorry Adrian. I need to look after myself first.”

The grass beneath my feet had withered and perished. On a stormy day beside a standing graveyard of deceased men – I had to make a difficult choice.