Chapter Text
The air in the Twelveswood hung low with humidity, thicker than the soft ocean breezes Kumokiri had come to know in Limsa. The soil sank beneath her feet as she trudged through Sorrel Haven making sure not to fall behind E-Sumi-Yan. Thankfully, she had high boots and her legs remained dry as soil gave way to marsh and marsh eventually gave way to a shallow stream.
He had given her the choice to stay in Bentbranch the night before and start early but she had instead elected to make the trek in one go, which she was starting to regret. Her feet ached after several miles on half-stone roads, a far cry from the soft soil and solid stone she’d known in the city of pirates.
Kumokiri huffed gently and pushed her bangs off her forehead, both disgusted and relieved that they stuck back with sweat.
Despite being an outsider the padjal had been kind enough to teach her conjury. She had little understanding of how the elementals spoke but she could feel the life and energy in every inch of the forest.
“Many who make this journey make it as children.” He explained as they treaded water. “It’s naturally more difficult at that age. Being away from home, sleeping in new places, and feeling alone in the woods are far more frightening. The world still feels so big.”
The bright open world would be replaced by a wall of trees for most.
Kumokiri watched the water part over her boots as the stream lapped at their heels. It felt like they had been walking for days and her robes were starting to feel uncomfortable in the heat. She closed her eyes as she tried to steady her breath, pushing away the loud silence that roared in her ears.
Smooth stones sang alongside the stream’s gentle babbling, creating a soothing harmony with the soft cawing of birds she’d yet to learn the names of. The stone bluffs to either side cradled her in the sound, surrounding her with the gentle refrain. She took a few blind steps forward as she heard the rustling of the leaves pass by with an urgent breeze at her backs, guiding her to the tree. The rhythm of their steps were drowned out by the elemental choir which meant Kumokiri stopped only after bumping into her mentor.
Her eyes snapped open.
“Sorry!” She hastily proclaimed, keeping her voice low so as not to interrupt the music.
E-Sumi’s smile betrayed his age despite his youthful exterior; his eyes softened and his brows dropped as he gazed upon the Au’ra with the kind wistfulness of a sage elder. He placed an attending hand upon her forearm, falling beside her to allow her drink in the sight before them.
In the heart of the Everschade sat the Guardian Tree whose leaves sang softly as Kumokiri stared in gentle awe. The stream beneath her feet fed into a gentle pool that inclosed it, decorated with fallen branches and dappled light. Charming rabbit-like snails crept along the trunk of the tree, clearing away the lichen that had formed. Insects buzzed around their nests in the high, mighty branches. Tadpoles and small frogs flourished in pockets of stones and moss with ribbits that eagerly chorused the elementals’ song. The smell would have been pungent - it should have been pungent - if it didn’t manage to feel like a welcoming embrace.
The stone cupped the tree within its hands, tall trees sprouting between its fingers to enclose the Guardian and keep it safe. The trees reached high into the sky, far above their harbored friend. There would have been no way to see the Guardian Tree from any path aside from the one they took to enter. At least not without falling from quite the height and being at least an hour’s hike from any help.
“The Guardian Tree,” E-Sumi began as he began to walk forward, keeping the trainee in tow. She breathed deep, filling with the myriad smells of the oasis. “Is said to have been the first to grow in this soil. It’s stood for over a thousand summers.” He spoke with a gentle and familiar reverence. The leaves whistled gently in welcome. “Its spirit protects all of the Shroud, and we in turn do our best to protect the elementals.”
Kumokiri did her best to step lightly, shuffling her feet to politely move over debris or fallen branches, unsure of how to best respect such a spirit. She had long lost her connection and faith in the kami but there was no denying the strength and presence of the spirit within the tree. The edges of her vision burned and she gritted her teeth, hoping to will away the incoming echo.
But the vision came, taking her legs out from underneath her.
She watched as other conjurers walked the same steps as her - E-Sumi, Kan-E, miqo’te and elezen and hyur - up to the mighty spirit. The water rippled out in every direction as their steps spread through the basin, hands dipping into the cool water and withdrawing fallen branches.
Some moved with eagerness, others with apprehension, all with a padjal a few feet away. Their faces blurred, until eventually settling into a blurry amalgamation of E-Sumi as he moved alongside conjurers for centuries.
Beneath the sounds of mortals, she heard the song of The Guardian Tree. All of the Shroud joined in the chorus, singing out in joy at their arrival. She could hear the voice of each leaf as the Tree wrapped its branches around her in an embrace, its branches bowing against aetheric strings like a violin. The stream became a dull bassy hum, punctuating the beat by splashing over stones. What was once a whisper became a roar and Kumokiri tried to grip the sides of her head to soften the sound, if only a little.
Her head swam as she was overcome with the sound of joyous laughter, splashing and running. She had all but forgotten that she was not alone with the Wood. Cold water hit her face as an elezen ran back the way he came.
When she looked up E-Sumi had a hand on either of her shoulders, his robe soaked at the knees as he kneeled before her in the water. Her face was slick with sweat and her hair had fallen back in front of her eyes. She pushed them back and did her best not to feel guilty about sullying his clothes.
“Are you well?” He asked gently. She gave a weak nod and inhaled to steady her breath.
A humble bent branch had drifted when the padjal rushed to her. It wielded no leaves, only a few notches where other branches might have broken from it. It was not unlike those from the vision. He made no effort to prevent her from taking it in her hand.
“Some who are sensitive to aether face such reactions.” E-Sumi continued patiently. He was kind enough to help the au’ra to her feet. “Though I recognize Hydaelyn’s blessing.” She failed to hide her surprise in such a state. “I’ve been around some time, you’ve nothing to fear. I’ve known some number of heroes with her gift. What did you see?”
“I..” Kumokiri hesitated, tightening the grip on the branch in her hand as she gazed up at the Guardian. She turned it over between her fingers as she spoke. “I saw some other conjurers, I think. Picking branches out of the water.”
Holding the wood felt like completing a circuit. Kumokiri could feel the rhythm from the swaying branches along her spine; she could sense her heartbeat pounding in time to the roar of the clouds rolling by overhead and the rushing around her ankles had grown intense regardless of how gently the water flowed. It wasn’t unlike the whisper of Hydaelyn at the corner of her mind: it made for a lovely melody to lift Her Mother’s voice.
“Coming to the Guardian Tree is a valued rite of conjurers.” E-Sumi took a step forward, allowing her to steady herself as he gently turned to face the tree. “Maintaining balance with the elementals is integral to what we do. It’s hard to imagine balancing without seeing the other side of the scale. As you grow, so will your branch. You will infuse it with magic, and flowers will sprout and bloom as the elementals reward your progress. And what better way to strengthen your bond with the Twelveswood than to equip you with a piece willingly given?”
She looked at the humble branch in her hand. It thrummed when she closed her hand around it, echoing the song the woods had sung to welcome them. Beneath the sound of her own heartbeat, Kumokiri could hear the singing of the Guardian Tree. She traced her thumb over a small notch by where the branch forked. A bit of moss flaked beneath her nail.
“So your staff-?”
The padjal seemed surprised, smiling gently and drawing his staff. “Yes, once a branch of The Guardian Tree. We occasionally request Wood Wailers to bring us larger pieces if they happen upon them, and if they do we send the pieces off to the carpentry guild. A moment will come when you’re ready, should you dedicate yourself to your craft.”
The branch felt warm in her grasp. Kumokiri pulled it closer to herself, suddenly feeling foolish for reacting as though he were going to take it from her. The wand in her hand felt like a baton; the song of the Twelveswood would not overwhelm her again.
“Have you… heard it?” Kumokiri asked hesitantly. The song had been so frightening in her vision, so loud and powerful.
“The Twelveswood?”
“The Guardian Tree.”
The padjal hesitated a little, putting his weight on his staff, allowing it to assist his steps as he began to trek back down the gentle stream. The au’ra followed a few steps behind, reluctant to leave the elemental symphony.
“I have. I’m surprised you have.” He spoke carefully. She reasoned she likely wasn’t supposed to and kicked herself from mentioning it at all.
“I-I only just heard it,” She hastily began. “I-I think, anyway. I.. I’ve never really been in a big forest before. Maybe I’m just not used to all of the sounds, yet?”
“Hearing it isn’t a bad thing.” E-Sumi reassured. “Just uncommon in such a new conjurer. I suppose the elementals have taken quite the liking to you!”
It felt a little strange, to be teased by an immortal child, but Kumokiri couldn’t help but smile at the affirmation. She fell in step behind him, tracing her thumb over the moss-less spot near her branch’s joint. The stream was still gentle over her boots, though her socks were soaked from having fallen, and the flow tried to guide her back to the gentle boughs behind them.
In the stillness between the stones, Kumokiri found herself admiring E-Sumi’s staff. While her own wand was modest and newly acquired, the craftsmanship of the local artisans was something to be admired. Moreover, a small stretched piece rested inside the crook, decorated in Eorzean script. She tilted her head, attempting to read it.
“What does it say?” She asked.
“My staff?” She nodded. “Thou art that and that is all.”
“What does it mean?”
“You’re you.” The answer was gentle despite its decisiveness. “And that’s all.”
The two smiled, facing away but both satisfied with the answer. They enjoyed the song of the forest as they continued the trek back to Gridania, where Kumokiri’s wand was certain to bloom.