When Alex placed his hand on the rune, the world around them burst into blinding light. Magic tore through the air, and the stone gates began to tremble, as if responding to his touch. At first, they shuddered gently, then more violently, until all the cracks began to seal themselves.
The fractured stone fused together, the disappearing lines and crumbling fragments reversing their decay. The sand that had filled the crevices started to recede like a retreating tide, until at last the gates stood whole—untouched, as if they had never been destroyed.
Alex and Lyra watched in silence.
"Magic…" Lyra whispered with near reverence, reaching her hand toward the stone.
Alex nodded.
The gates opened on their own, revealing a passage leading inward. Darkness awaited on the other side, but it wasn't ordinary darkness—there was something familiar about it, something Alex had felt in his dreams.
They stepped forward.
As they crossed the threshold, a breathtaking sight unfolded before their eyes.
A vast cavern stretched out ahead of them, so massive its far end vanished into shadow. High above, glowing thirty-meter runes adorned the stone ceiling, their glow resembling a starlit sky. In their magical light, the city below shimmered in a soft green-blue glow, as if from another world.
Ancient buildings surrounded them, rising on either side of wide stone streets. Built from dark, almost black stone, they looked like they had withstood thousands of years with little damage. Tall and imposing, their façades were adorned with intricate carvings—symbols and shapes that seemed oddly familiar to Alex, though he couldn't read them.
Yet there was no life here.
The city stood still, silent—as if frozen in time. No people, no animals, not even a breeze to stir the air. Scattered throughout the ruins and along the deserted streets lay old, yellowed bones—the remains of those who once lived here. Some were strewn about, as if death had taken them mid-motion. Others rested in seated positions, as if their owners had never woken up.
Lyra looked at one of the skulls beneath a collapsed column.
"This place… it's dead," she said softly.
Alex looked at her, then at the bodies left behind as if never given a proper burial.
"Something happened here," he said grimly.
Before them stretched a dark river, its surface so still it reflected the glowing runes like a mirror. Its water was black, making it impossible to see what lay beneath.
The bridge connecting the two sides of the city was a simple, solid structure made from the same black stone as the buildings. It had no ornaments, no statues, no markings. Only the raw, enduring strength of its construction—something that looked like it could outlast centuries.
"Do you think this city was once full of life?" Lyra asked, staring at the runes' reflection in the water.
"It must have been," Alex replied. "The buildings, the bridge, the scale… This place wasn't made just to be forgotten."
They stood in silence, listening. But nothing moved.
Only stillness.
In the middle of the river was an island—small, surrounded by black water. And there, in its very center, grew something that immediately caught the eye.
A tree.
It was enormous. So vast its crown touched the stone ceiling above, as if trying to break through and reach a light it had never known. Its trunk was wide, coated in smooth, nearly metallic bark with a silvery-golden sheen. The leaves on its branches shimmered emerald green, each one exuding a soft glow.
Beside the tree, nestled among its massive roots, rested a boulder. Gentle streams of green energy floated around it, flickering in the air like ethereal sparks of magic.
It was the only living thing in this entire city.
Alex felt a sudden jolt in his chest. Something inside him stirred.
"I feel it," he said suddenly.
Lyra looked at him, surprised.
"Feel what?"
"The tree… it's calling to me."
She looked at it again. For a moment, she thought she saw the faint glow around it flicker—as if it truly responded to Alex's presence.
"It's the reason this place still exists," she said quietly. "Maybe it's the key to what happened here."
Alex didn't wait any longer.
He stepped onto the bridge, leading them toward the island.
They reached the massive trunk.
The lone tree, unbelievably large, towered above them like a guardian of the past. Its roots stretched wide, tearing through the earth and drawing greenery to itself. Around it spread a patch of fertile ground—grass, moss, wild leaves that shouldn't be there. As if the tree pulsed with a life the rest of the desert had long since forsaken.
Alex stepped closer to the trunk, his brow furrowed. At first glance, it looked like any massive tree. But at its base, something caught the eye. A shape. A line. A pattern that wasn't random.
He leaned in.
As he did, the bark rustled—as if reacting to his presence. With a soft crackle, pieces of wood and moss shifted aside. From within the trunk emerged a humanoid shape—an elf, fused with the tree like its very heart.
He was almost motionless. His body merged with the wood in a disturbingly natural way. One arm became a branch, covered in small leaves and resin-like veins. His face, though calm, bore the marks of ages—his skin cracked and textured, as if layered with thin bark. His chest was partly covered in moss, and roots grew from his hips, connecting deep into the tree.
Suddenly, he opened his eyes.
Golden. Luminous. Saturated with something ancient.
Slowly, he moved his single arm—the one fused with the branch—gesturing invitingly. No words were spoken, but everything in his posture said: Come closer.
Alex didn't hesitate. He stepped forward cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest. He reached out and gently touched the elf's chest—where wood met flesh.
In an instant, everything vanished.
He was in the forest again.
Standing barefoot on soft, damp moss, surrounded by the rustling of towering trees. The forest was just like in his dream with Gaja—alive, pulsing with energy, wet with dew and fragrant with earth.