A new beginning is like seeing a sapling sprout from the mud. It is weak, lacking foundation, and any little thing could kill it off in a flash. But, as it digs its roots deeper and reaches for the sky, we get to watch something majestic happen.

~Taliesin, God of Rhapsody

A Fireheart Oak stood at the center of a massive clearing. As far as the eye could see, were flatlands filled with grass and dirt, but not much else. Days passed with nothing else happening. A wind would pass by, darkening the sky—these were the only impressions the tree had.

A ring of stones, hidden by the grass, lit up. Out of it crawled a bedraggled beast. The land was inhospitable, and the only warmth it felt came from the enormous tree. It approached the tree aggressively, not smart enough to realize it was just a tree. Seeing no reaction, the beast attacked, but its aggressive actions caused the tree’s bark the flare-up with dark flames.

Skreee!

The little beasty screeched in anger and attacked again and again until it turned to ash. More of its kind appeared through the fairy ring, all as nasty and aggressive as the first. They attacked each other, mated, and defecated. Their lives were simple and chaotic, but almost all of them ended up testing out the tree and died miserable deaths.

The Fireheart Oak endured.

Years seemed to pass, and those rodents reproduced at an alarming rate. Since there was nothing to eat, they ate each other. Their destruction, annoyance, and nastiness wore down the Fireheart Oak, who liked peace and cleanliness. One day, they all swarmed the tree, climbing up into the topmost parts of its canopy.

The Fireheart Oak raged. The ground shook and shattered, and fire torched the land until nothing moved once more. Not even a bone was left behind by the tree’s fire, and it was as if the rodents never existed.

Mountains and hills had formed during the tree’s great rage, which also meant that valleys and canyons became part of the world. Water broke through to the surface, and a bitter cold filled the land.

Through it all, the Fireheart Oak embraced the change.

It stood tall and resolute, immune to the surrounding changes. As it grew taller, the roots expanded into the ground, which caused the unsettled environment to calm. The roots provided the foundation and stability that it was previously lacking. The land it had rooted into went from ellipsoid and became a sphere.

The sun and moon also grew, but the Fireheart Oak’s planet underwent another change—it rotated around the sun, and the moon rotated around the tree’s home. The change brought on violent storms initially and lots of rainfall mixed with snow. The agelessness from before disappeared with the introduction of day and night—Fireheart could feel the passing of time now.

Seasons also became a thing, even if they were mild. Spring brought the rains and new life. Saplings dotted the land, and while most were Fireheart Oaks, there were other trees intermingled. Seeds left behind by the vile creatures that once invaded. Grasses, crops, and various plants took root, and the land turned green with vitality.

By the time summer came, the heat in some places was nearly unbearable, and the plants yellowed and went dormant. But more plants took root. Under the boughs of the Fireheart Oak, yellow stalks sprouted, and at a certain height, small growths appeared, which looked like tiny wisps of fire. The Fireheart knew it was only an illusion and recognized the plant was called Firegrass. Those flames were its way of expelling fire mana.

Firegrass itself was hard to find, but only because it grew in harsh environments. Under its boughs, the Firegrass grew abundantly, but such a plant could only thrive during summer’s hottest months.

Fall arrived, and more rains came. Depressed landscape areas slowly turned into lakes, and rivers formed gouges through the hills and mountains until they connected to a few of these lakes. Fish appeared in these lakes, but they weren’t normal. Fireheart recognized them, or at least what they were initially. Now, their scales had a silvery shimmer, like they were made of metal.

As the leaves fell, Fireheart worried his saplings would shed their leaves and turn everything into a wasteland once more. The worries were unfounded as the leaves turned into wisps of smoke directly on the branches. Those flaming leaves never fell to the ground.

The only oddity was that his own leaves remained.

Rain turned to snow, and the Fireheart Oak watched as everywhere around him turned white. Still, the snow melted and evaporated before it could touch him. The Fireheart Oak saplings didn’t have the same issue and appeared like any other dormant tree in winter. The only distinctive trait was the blackened bark and the scent of smoke they gave off.

Seasons flowed on endlessly after that, and eventually, smaller creatures arrived. These weren’t like those vile creatures from long ago, but docile things that were frightened at every little sound.

The fish and the creatures battled for food, and it was a toss-up which came out for the better. When insects appeared, the smaller animals chased them for food, and the fish snacked on anything approaching the water.

Forests grew, and trees towered over the land, but none of them could approach the majesty of Fireheart. Some of the more intelligent creatures even brought Fireheart gifts. Because of its nature, the massive oak extended its influence and aided those creatures when they were in trouble. Random shelters, or hideaways, would randomly swallow them up—protecting them.

Especially when larger predators appeared.

Fireheart Oak felt at peace with the world. Everything had a place, and it nurtured his soul. It was a simple life, observing, reacting as little as possible, and just being.

That all changed when a red-skinned man appeared. At first, he too just observed but then started talking to Fireheart. Initially, the oak showed little interest in words it couldn’t understand. Red-faced was insistent, and so the oak tried to understand. If nothing else, it was drawn to the fire inside the man. It felt… familiar.

“Who are you?” Red-faced asked.

“Reciprocity,” Fireheart spoke.

“Silly boy. I admit your Soulscape is impressive. It isn’t the largest I’ve seen, but I doubt I’ve seen any reach this state at your age. The thing that shocks me the most is that it has a life cycle. You have a self-sustaining world with a fairy ring and everything—that is how all these creatures are getting in. I’d block that before daemons or humans find their way in.”

“Who are you?” Fireheart asked.

“You really should wake up now. It’s been almost two months, and your Shield is fully formed. I’m expelling you from the monolith, but I wanted you to at least remember your name first.”

Fireheart remained silent for a time, and slowly the fog over his mind lifted. Recalling all the events that happened, he was shocked. Years had passed in here, but only two months had passed outside. “How is that possible?”

“Time is different here. As your world expands, it may slow down, but for now, the speed is extraordinary. I think the original dilation was one to a thousand, but now it’s roughly every day here is ten days out there. For you, it probably felt like fifty years, give or take. My math isn’t great, plus I’m too lazy to account for the deceleration as mass—you know what? Doesn’t matter. Your Soulscape now has one-to-ten time dilation, but it won’t affect your body’s actual age, just your mental age—which is nothing.”

“I am Crow, son of Maddox,” The Fireheart Oak spoke slowly, and all his memories unlocked. Including all the changes he witnessed in this place. Just because he became the oak didn’t mean his Sage’s Mind disappeared. “Why am I this tree?”

“As far as this world is concerned, you are the god. The tree is like your throne. You can separate from it, but why bother? You can control the entire world from here.”

“You are the guardian of the tower?” Crow asked, finally sensing that the reason he felt an affinity toward him was that they shared a Heavenly Flame.

“Caught on quick.”

“You aren’t mad?”

“That you took some of my flames? I shed more than you’ve absorbed, so it doesn’t matter. Call it a gift for the curse that daft man created. If not for him, you wouldn’t have suffered as much.”

“What man?”

“Cannot say. In time, you may meet him—if he still lives. He was brilliant but not very observant. Either way, those flames are yours, and whatever you can take from me, those are yours, too. But don’t think because we have an affinity, I’ll take it easy on you. The tower is your trial to see if you have what it takes to survive in the upper realms. Don’t fault me for trying to kill you.”

“Hah, I won’t go down that easy. Do I have a Shield?”

“Once you pull away from your Soulscape, you’ll feel it. It won’t be pleasant since you have an unusual trait. I recommend you learn to control that Feedback. It was what nearly killed this place before.”

Crow felt the spirit of the Heavenly Flame was odd. He hesitated to call the man warm, mainly because it sounded like a terrible pun and because he didn’t believe the man was benevolent.

“See you around, kid. Don’t die.”

He flung Crow out of the Fireheart Oak, which pushed him out of his Soulscape. Feeling the repulsive force on his chest, his stomach turned, and bile shot up and out of his mouth. Unable to focus, he dropped to the ground, blacking out in the vile, swamp-like mud.