Roots of the Withered Land

My hand feels stiff, as if bark has grown over my skin. I stare across the bar and wonder: Is ignorance really bliss? I don’t have an answer. Luckily, it’s not my job to think. I take another swig. The dull burn in my throat reminds me of home.

My skin burns, but I ignore it. I’ve no desire to be sober right now. Across the bar, men and women dance. They sing songs and laugh. Some fighting. Some try to forget they exist. Each is an intricate story unfolding before me—maybe mundane, but these moments matter. Didn’t they?

I know what it feels like. To want to forget. To want everything to end. How long have I done this job? I lost count ages ago. One bad decision and then you’re met with an opportunity. What a load of horse shit. I take another swig.

“You might want to slow down there,” the bartender says.

I look him in the eyes. “You should have a drink. Hell, have twelve. It won’t matter much in the end.”

“What’s got sand in your britches?”

“Destiny.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Maybe arrogance? Hell, I don’t even know if I rightly know.”

“Fella, I think you’ve had more than enough. I’m cutting you off for the night.”

“Hey! No need to be rude. I thought we were friends?”

He walks to the far end of the bar, avoiding my gaze. He serves drinks and laughs with the others. Drunken fools. Then again—look who’s talking. I step away. No sense testing the patience of a tired bartender.

***

I head toward the center of town, jacket pulled low. Each footstep feels like I’m sinking into the ground. I can feel the earth pulse. Its heartbeat is alive… Slow but alive. People pass, faces lit by glowing rectangles. When was the last time they looked at the sky?

Dead land sprawls beneath my feet—a scar where a river once ran, where tall flowers blanketed the valley, and Yggdrasil’s roots tangled deep. Do any of them remember? Do they even care? Actions have consequences regardless. We all must answer to the soil.

I accidentally bump into a man on the road.

“Hey! Watch yourself.”

I don’t respond. Not worth the time. Besides, I’m tired.

“Drunken lout.” I hear him mutter. My feet keep moving.

“You look mean.” The small voice rings from behind me.

“Vera!” A woman rushes to grab her child. “Sir, I’m so sorry. She’s only five. Doesn’t have her head all the way on.”

I stare at the little girl. My eyes glow green, and her eyes widen to saucers. “She has good instincts.” I raise my jacket to cover the tiny black bumps on my neck.

I clutch my chest suddenly, falling over on the street. The burning in my skin is getting worse.

“Sir!” The woman rushes to me despite her daughter's warning.

“I’m fine!” I growl, forcing myself to my feet. “Just clumsy,” I mutter, stepping away.

It’ll be dark soon. And when morning comes, I must act. I rub the back of my neck, an old habit for another life. If I had known, if I had any clue, I would have said no. I would have died in that field and been forgotten as it should be. Fear makes you do stupid things.

“Nonsense. Come sit for a moment. Rest. Not to be rude, but I could smell you from down the road. You could use a moment to clear your head.” She guides me to a chair in front of her stall.

The makeshift stand overflows with plants—roses, orchids, lilacs. Succulents and small ferns form a neat border. Green blazes against the dark, gray street. I breathe deeply, letting the familiar scent fill me—a small gift from this woman, though she doesn’t know it.

My lip forms into a slight smile before I notice. Vera sits across from me, squinting at me. She’s trying to figure me out. Too smart for her own good. Why do I respect that so much?

“I saw your eyes.” She doesn’t hide it. Good.

“Did you now?”

“You’re a demon.”

“VERA!” the mother chides.

Laughter erupts from me, raw and painful. When was the last time I laughed like this?

“Does she always call strangers demons?”

“Just the drunks,” the woman replies.

I adjust my jacket, and my eyes, now a deep brown, meet hers. Vera scowls. Seems I’ve met my match. Normally, people cower when you look them in the eye. Not her.

“Feeling better?” the woman asks.

“Yeah. I think I am.” I sink into the chair. “I never asked your name.”

“Anya.”

“Anya. Simple. I like it. My name is Silvanus.”

“That’s a first. Never heard a name like that before. You must not be from around here.”

“No. Not from here.”

I rise, stretching my back and legs. “Thank you for the chair. But I have other things to do.”

“If you’re sure you’re alright, okay. Try not to trip over your own feet this time, Silvanus.”

I walk back out into the street and feel the familiar pressure in the air. The alley behind the market will have to do. I slip into the shadows, leaning against a post as the burning in my skin intensifies.

Dark, tendril-like roots reach out as the air around me turns a sickly greenish grey.

“Are you ready, Silvanus?”

“Not even a hello, how are you?”

No reply.

“Figures.”

“You’re upset. Why?” The roots shift as the Verdant's voice echoes in my head.

“Maybe I’m tired of all of this. Maybe it’s starting to feel like hypocrisy.”

“Need I remind you, you accepted this role.”

“I was dying!”

“You still chose.”

“Did I?”

“We all carry out our roles.”

“And what if I say no?”

There is a long silence. I stand my ground, but my body tingles. The ground feels like it’ll cave in around me at any moment. The roots combine into a human-like structure. Cold black eyes stare back.

“You see me as evil?” The Verdant’s voice now flows from the mouth of the creature.

I blink, hands twitching as the taste of alcohol rises in my throat.

“You feel it, don’t you? The connection to Yggdrasil. It’s fading.”

“So you want to become like them?”

“I want to contain them. Even plants need pruning.”

I swallow reflexively. “You can call it containment all you like. Doesn’t make us better.”

“All beings must die.”

“You don’t have to watch them die, you coward!”

Those cold eyes stare blankly at me.

“Only one of us is aware of all the bones hidden in the soil.”

The roots disappear, and the alley is silent apart from my screaming.

***

I lean against the wall, staring into nothing. The sunset throws long shadows across the ground. There will be no sleep tonight—the chaos in my head won’t allow it. Gravel crunches down the alley; three voices approach.

“Look what we have here. A wandering fool.”

“He looks lost.”

“Maybe you should pay us for some directions.”

I don’t reply. My arms stay crossed against my chest, eyes looking straight ahead. Why must men act like dolts?

They surround me. “Hey! Did you not hear us? Pay us for our help, or things are going to get very unpleasant for you.”

“Trust me, you don’t want this. Walk away.” The bumps on my neck pulse.

“Ha! We got us a soldier type, apparently.”

“Please.” The word sounds wrong. “I am asking you nicely. I’m not in the mood.” My skin burns and itches badly.

“You must be dense. There are three of us. Why on earth would we stop?”

I sigh. Why do I care? These men are beneath me. Aren’t they? I uncross my arms and stand before them.

“One last chance. Please. I am begging you. Walk away.”

The men approach and grab me. One stands behind me as the others are in front. The smallest one hits me in the face. He screams. His buddies laugh until they see his broken hand. The man behind me lets go and backs away slowly.

“What the hell?”

The bumps on my neck burst, and spores fill the night air. For a moment, my head is concealed, and then my face appears. Covered in fungi and small budding flowers. I turn to them. Everything in me wants to consume them. To judge them. My hands tremble at my sides.

The men see my true skin, faces blanching as they run, hands covering their mouths like my beauty might infect them. I exhale and walk away.

***

I stand at the edge of the city, watching the sunrise. Pink and orange hues paint the sky, making the dawn appear sacred. It’s the kind of morning poets write about. Shadows swirl at my feet. Roots take shape before me again.

“It is time.”

“I spent all night thinking about this moment,” I say, looking at the horizon.

The Verdant stares at me. Cold black eyes never blinking.

“Why not just let them end? All things must die anyway, right?”

The Verdant doesn’t reply. Its eyes stare into me. Searching.

“You’re free to choose.”

“Am I?”

“All that matters is Yggdrasil. They are a blight. They may not know, but their nature corrupts. Twists the world till it chokes on their ambition.”

“Not everyone deserves to be erased. Not everyone causes a blight.”

“That isn’t a justification. Regardless of intent, the blight spreads all the same.”

The roots sink back into the ground, and I am left alone on the hill. My eyes scan the cityscape, and I can see it. The roots. They start appearing everywhere. I cannot stop it. My body tenses, fingers counting imaginary sums to stay present. What if I run? Don’t be a fool. There is nowhere to run. Anywhere there is life, Yggdrasil exists.

I see them. The dryads. The fae. The wraiths. White wisps, ethereal and deadly. They gather around the city. My shoulders slump, and I walk forward. Each step feels heavier than the last. I let my feet firmly plant before every step. I can feel a different pressure building in my chest. Like a deep ache.

I walk toward the city, watching the chaos unfold. The dryads approach the growing roots. Their magic flows into the wood, and leaves spring forth. Grass and moss begin coating the ground. Spreading from where the roots touch. The green spreads to buildings, overtaking them. Leaving behind only empty rusted remains.

I approach the wraiths. Their forms shimmer like smoke. Is this all rebirth is? Never-ending death? The specter-like forms begin flowing through the city. Followed by the fae. The small creatures reshape the land as they walk. Trees and mushrooms spring forth from the ground in violent ruptures. It would be beautiful if it weren’t for the screams.

My feet carry me inside the city. Wraiths float around, finding people and draining their life. Their bodies drop like dried husks and return to the earth. I watch young and old alike get taken. It makes me physically sick. The wraiths catch up to an elderly man. His body goes pale. Eyes hollowing. Face turning gaunt, then sunken in. The color in his eyes changes to a greyish white. His mouth is open, but no sound emerges. Before I can react, his body is collapsing back to the very soil it emerged from.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I spot Anya running with Vera, a wraith in close pursuit.

“No!” I raise my hand, vines whipping out toward the entity. It dissipates, and I rush toward the two women.

Anya looks at me wide-eyed. Vera is sobbing uncontrollably. I look at them, confused for a moment, before I remember my true self is on full display. Fungi and plants sprouting all over my body. Followed by trails of spores. Anya screams and starts backing away from me, trying to shield Vera. Why does it hurt so much? Their fear.

“Anya…”

Her eyes lock on me. Like she has been betrayed. “Silvanus… Why?”

“I didn’t want this…”

“They’re killing us! Help us!”

“I can’t… I’m sorry.”

She stares at me like I am insane. Of course she does. Her system is in shock.

I approach her and Vera. She hugs the girl, backing away as quickly as she can until her back hits a wall. Two wraiths rush toward them, and I raise roots from the ground to seal us off from the outside. Below me, I can feel the call of the roots. The Verdant is watching.

I step forward slowly. “I’m sorry, but this is all I can do.”

I feel the pulse of the earth return to its full force. The connection to Yggdrasil returning in earnest. The Verdant’s voice echoes in my head.

“You’re needed. Bring Yggdrasil’s essence to the center of the city.”

“I’ve done enough. Our deal is done.”

Using what magic I have left, my spores bind them to the earth. They try to cover their mouths, but it’s no use. Spores fill their lungs, and on their skin, tiny marks begin to appear and burst, casting their own spores.

I lower the roots and watch as Anya runs as fast as she can. None of the creatures bother her as she runs. She looks around, taking in the landscape before her. Her eyes catch mine one final time, realization dawning on her. She holds my gaze for a moment. Nothing more. A mere acknowledgment. Then she is gone.

My body sinks into the ground. Yggdrasil’s call fades. Bark crumbles from my hands, and I can finally feel—truly feel—the sun on my skin. I smile as I collapse into the soil.