Chapter 69: Cross And Straw [18] Finally In Motion

A tree, one that would make even the gods look small.

A literal statement in every sense of the word, for if the gods were still alive, they would have had to crane their necks just to stare at it, not even able to see the very top.

They would feel the peculiar humility of being insignificant, perhaps for the first time. A humbling experience for being who was said to have existed before the world itself.

Its trunk was beyond measurement. Beyond comprehension, really. The base of it swallowed the horizon in three directions, golden bark the color of gold, grooved and ancient, each groove wide enough to walk through.

Roots the size of mountain ranges spread outward from it, cracking the earth, reshaping geography simply by existing. The branches, however, were what would take one by surprise.

Each one stretched outward, vast, purposeful, luminous in the strange light that filtered through the canopy above.

The smallest branch visible from the ground was wider than any city that had ever existed.

The leaves, where they could be seen at all, were the size of plains, and they moved in a wind that existed only at that altitude, a wind that had never touched the ground and never would.

And beneath the tree, the world was slowly dying. Or rather, it was marching to its death.

A horde, vast and formless, shapeshifting between one collective horror and the next. One moment, they were wolves, vast and hungry, the very personification of predators.

The next they were something without a name—tall, reaching, made of odd angles and smoke. They moved like water, finding a path downhill, inevitable and utterly without mercy.

Ahead of them, barely visible at this distance, a settlement clung to the edge of the root-land. The horde moved faster, another march into a bloody battle, one that they had fought far too many times.

With the Great Tree of Souls blessing them, the horde moved forward with confidence, certain that even if they fell, the inevitable would eventually arrive.

* * * * * *

The wind picked up with each passing moment, ruffling his white hair, cool against his skin. Barbossa stood on the edge of a cliff, hands in his pockets, expression calm.

His thin-rimmed glasses sat on his face, protecting his violet eyes. They were glowing in the darkness, a faint shine of life in their mostly glassy depths.

He was staring at the horizon, far, far away, a brilliant sun illuminating the world with its malevolent rays.

There was a saying, ’stare at the void, and the void stares back.’ Barbossa felt like he was being watched, like his every movement was preplanned and accounted for.

A feeling vastly uncomfortable. He had been standing there for hours, mind slowly shutting down...he had reached his last legs. His defences offered no further resistance, about to collapse.

Behind him, footsteps echoed, their sound soft, only sensed by him because he knew they were coming. Not because of his foresight, no. He just knew his sister far too well.

"Barb, how bad is it...can you really not..."

She caught herself, careful in avoiding tearing her brother’s heart.

He considered the horizon for a moment. The tree was visible from here; in fact, it was visible from everywhere, had been for three weeks, growing larger by the day.

"Dear sister, have I ever mentioned how much I love you...maybe I have, I just don’t seem to remember well."

What was he doing here, wasting his time instead of heading towards...

Oh...

Barbossa realized with a startle that he had already been ensnared. He had already known that, only now he actually remembered it again.

One would assume his mind would be his best weapon against enemies, especially considering the vast toll of his abilities, and that was, indeed, the case.

But as with everything, it wasn’t that simple. His mind was formidable, yes, but only two of four parts. His Will was indomitable, incapable of bending or breaking, while his Intelligence was overflowing, a mind so sharp it shamed and shunned its peers.

But in return, he was a threatening target, capable of

Rani spoke up, voice high with emotion.

"So I will be all alone...I will have to find them alone too...hunted by my own brother?"

Rani looked at him desperately, hoping, wishing he would dismiss her words.

"Why don’t you say anything, Barb! Are you really that unwilling to fight against that horrid being? Is my presence really that hateful..."

Her sobs quieted down, voice muffled. Barbossa looked at her with pity, already knowing the inevitable trials his sister would have to face. It was a cruel fate to know everything yet be powerless to fight against it.

He wrapped his arms around his sister, who was on the verge of tears, and whispered the only words that would bring her comfort in this hellish world.

"Always remember, I love you."

He pushed himself out of the embrace, a smile gracing his lips.

Barbossa stepped backwards, barely a step away from falling into the forest below.

"Always remember Rani, always!"

He stepped off, falling without grace, knowing that he would be saved. After all, no one wanted a dead thrall.

The world blurred black and brown, the muddy cliff moving farther away from him, and in consequence, the ground only came closer.

That day, Barbossa fell, not because he wanted to, but because he had to, for desire always required sacrifice.

* * * * * *

Leonidas woke up perpetually annoyed. Willow had, in her own words, pranked him. She had done so by placing his sword out of arm’s reach.

I was just a second away from hurling a spinning flower at her.

It would have been an effective comeback, especially for someone who ruined his sleep.

But that wasn’t the only reason.

Even though he had slept for a while, more than enough to regain his bearings and refresh his mind, he only felt more drained.

It was a different kind of exhaustion than the ones he knew. Like sleeping for 12 hours and still waking up feeling weird all over.

He felt exactly like that, which soured his mood.

He lay still for a moment, eyes open, staring at the cave ceiling.

The fire was still crackling, providing sufficient warmth. Willow was still sleeping soundly, her breathing even and expression at ease.

Even the outside world was silent, leaving Leonidas more confused than ever.

Nothing was wrong. But then why did it feel like everything was wrong...like everything was nothing more than a fever dream.

He fell inside his mind, into his phosphene space, and found everything to be normal there as well. The skies were still split, the two seas touching but not mixing.

The ground was still fluffy and funny to walk on, bouncing under his feet like clouds.

Leonidas pressed a hand to his chest, a string extending outwards, stretching across the vast length of the plane.

His Nexus was still there, slowly rebuilding itself from ashes. Savior was there as well, being rebuilt in the same manner, in the same place.

Leonidas left feeling more confused than ever, still wondering about his unease. It was a fact that he always felt uneasy, ever since he had arrived in the Labyrinth, but recently it had been increasing, spiking at random times.

It was the particular dread of an animal that had not yet seen the predator but knew, with every nerve it possessed, that the predator was there.

Leonidas sat up slowly, wondering whether to keep chasing ghosts or let them rest, knowing they would haunt him for the rest of eternity.

The answer wasn’t particularly difficult to arrive at, but it somehow grounded him, helping him steady himself despite the insanity of it all.

He had survived the Realm of Madness; a little unease wasn’t going to be the death of him.

Or will it?

He chuckled and looked around, taking in everything one more time.

The cave was exactly as it had been. Willow, curled on the crimson fabric, face slack with the particular peace of someone who had finally, genuinely surrendered to exhaustion. The fire, burning low, cast long shadows across the claw-marked walls. And finally, the darkness beyond the entrance, still and patient.

He had survived the Realm of Madness. He had died more times than he had fingers to count on. He had watched Willow die and regressed into his own memories and stood in the presence of a dead god who had punished him through the sheer inconvenience of still existing.

He was not, by any reasonable metric, a man who frightened easily.

The dread sitting in his chest right now was the worst thing he had felt since the mask had eaten his face.

Something was coming.

He didn’t know what. He didn’t know when. He didn’t know from which direction, or in what form, or whether knowing would have made any difference to the cold, spreading, utterly certain wrongness pressing against his ribs from the inside.

He just knew.

Leonidas reached for Blush.

His hand closed around the hilt.

He waited.