God's Tree

Chapter 11 Home sweet home

As Argolaith stowed his spoils of battle in the storage ring and resumed his journey, he marveled at the diversity of the herbs he had found scattered across the Forgotten Forest.

Each herb was unique in its own way: some pulsed with a soft, eerie glow, casting a faint light in the deep shade of the forest, while others were starkly colorless, as though no pigment had ever dared to touch them.

The more he walked, the more his thoughts shifted toward his discoveries, wondering what each plant could do. He had learned that these herbs had a power of their own, their very essence embedded with magic, waiting to be unlocked.

"Let's see where I am on the map," he muttered aloud, pulling the old piece of parchment from his pack. His fingers traced the map carefully, seeking his position. He smiled as his finger reached the mark where he had stoped. "Only 50 miles left to my cabin," he mused.

The distance felt almost inconsequential now; the forest no longer seemed so imposing. After all, he had grown in strength and knowledge during his time wandering the untamed wilderness. The memory of the first days in the forest, when fear of the unknown kept him on edge, seemed like a distant echo now.

The excitement to return home swelled inside him, and with each passing step, Argolaith's pace quickened.

He felt the energy of the forest now, not as something to fear but as something to overcome. His aura, transformed by the magical energies he had absorbed, he radiated power. And the creatures that once hunted the edges of the forest now seemed to fear him, their instincts urging them to retreat.

Whether they fled at the sight of him or merely sensed the change in him, Argolaith didn't know. But it gave him confidence.

The day wore on as the sun began its slow descent. Shadows lengthened across the trees, and the soft murmur of distant creatures echoed through the woods. Argolaith barely noticed. His mind was consumed by the thought of returning home. He had been away for far too long, and now, his heart yearned for the simple comforts of his cabin.

As his steps grew quicker, his eyes swept across the forest, still attuned to the unfamiliar wildlife around him. Yet, despite the occasional rustle of leaves or movement in the brush, he felt no fear. The forest had become his domain, and he could not help but smile to himself.

"Only a few miles left," he muttered. "I'll be home soon."

But as Argolaith walked, his thoughts shifted to something that had been nagging him since his discovery of the storage ring. "Wait, what is Athos going to say when he sees this?" he mused.

"Will he be mad? Or will he not care?" He grinned wryly at the thought. "Oh well, I'll figure that out when the time comes. For now, I'll just focus on getting home."

The journey continued, and the familiar outlines of the forest began to take shape. The gnarled trees, with their twisted branches and aged trunks, lined the path, marking the boundary between the wild and civilization.

Argolaith paid little attention to the whispers as he made his way to the library. When he arrived at the library, the large wooden doors opened with a creak, and he stepped inside, greeted by the familiar scent of old parchment and ink.

"Athos?" he called, his voice echoing in the empty room. "I brought your book. And how did you know I was at the tree-house?"

A figure appeared at the top of the stairs, descending with a fluid grace. It was Athos, his expression a mixture of amusement and concern.

"Argolaith, I could feel it the moment you opened the door," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I have enchantments on that door from top to bottom. Of course, I'd know when someone enters. But you should be more careful in the future. That forest isn't safe, yet you went in anyway."

Athos' voice grew more serious as he scolded Argolaith. For half an hour, he went on about the dangers of the Forgotten Forest, the unpredictable creatures that lurked within, and the caution that should be exercised when venturing there. Argolaith, used to these lectures, simply nodded and waited for the moment when he could move on from the conversation.

Finally, Athos paused, and Argolaith, sensing an opportunity, busied himself by preparing tea with some of the magical leaves he had collected on his journey. He placed a steaming pot of tea before Athos and himself, his movements deliberate and calm.

"Drink it while it's still hot," he said, sliding one cup toward Athos.

As Athos took a tentative sip, his eyes widened in surprise. "Argolaith... where did you find these tea leaves?" His voice was tinged with disbelief. "Do you know how rare these are? They can only be picked once they've reached an age of 10,000 years! And you're just... making tea with them?"

Argolaith merely shrugged. "They were growing near a stream in the forest," he explained casually. "I figured I'd bring some back."

As the hours passed, the two men sipped tea and conversed about a variety of topics, from Argolaith's latest adventures to the peculiarities of the magical plants he had discovered. The conversation was easy, flowing with an air of camaraderie. For a time, the world outside the library seemed distant and irrelevant, as if nothing mattered more than the quiet companionship of an old friend.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of red and orange, Argolaith knew it was time to leave. He stood, stretching his stiff limbs.

"Thanks for the tea and the company, Athos," Argolaith said. "I should head back to my cabin. I'm sure there's a lot to do tomorrow."

"Take care, Argolaith," Athos replied. "And remember—be careful with the things you bring back from that forest. Some things are better left undiscovered."

Argolaith smiled and nodded, a sense of peace settling over him. As he made his way back to his cabin, the quiet streets seemed unusually calm. The townspeople, once buzzing with whispers about his recent actions, paid him no mind. And so he went home to sleep.