The Man Who is a Forest

Had she glanced back, she would have witnessed the terrifying spectacle she had narrowly escaped. The moment Jianna disappeared into the tunnel’s maw, the patch of vines where the deer had been grazing coiled into action. It was not the slow, passive movement of a plant, but the explosive uncoiling of a predator. Tendrils as thick as pythons erupted from the mass, ensnaring the small animal in a heartbeat. There was a sickening, silent wrench as its neck gave way. Just as swiftly, the vines retracted, dragging the limp carcass into their tangled depths, leaving behind nothing but an undisturbed carpet of leaves, with no trace of blood or struggle to mark the kill.

Back in the Out-Realm, Jianna had always detested the fish sections of pet stores. The towering walls of water, with massive tanks stacked high on every side and sometimes even overhead, made the air feel thin and stolen, leaving her unable to draw a full breath. A primal, illogical fear would always whisper at the edge of her mind, a chilling premonition of glass shattering and the crushing weight of a sudden flood.

That same oppressive memory resurfaced now, pressing in on her as she forged deeper into the vine-wrought passage.

Despite the creeping dread, a powerful intuition insisted that if Asgath was anywhere, he was here. It was merely a matter of persistence and timing.

Jianna and Roric pressed onward through the profound quiet of the tunnel. The only sounds were the soft, dull clop of the horse’s hooves, the gentle tread of her own boots, and the ragged whisper of their shared, anxious breaths. The passage was hushed, but it was far from dead; it was intensely, vibrantly alive. The tunnel teemed with a curated wilderness of vegetation. She passed bushes heavy with raspberries and strawberries, their fruits so plump and vividly colored they seemed to pulse with an inner light. Their leaves angled perfectly toward the sun, which streamed down through unseen apertures in the woven canopy above. A fleeting thought surfaced—Don’t these fruits ripen in the autumn?—but she let the question drift away, unanswered. She moved past morning glories whose petals unfurled in defiant bursts of color, their delicate stems twining around the larger, muscular sinews of the tunnel. She carefully skirted clusters of nameless flowers that lifted their heads into personal spotlights of sunshine. Everything felt intentional, as if each bush and blossom had been meticulously placed in the one perfect position to receive its ideal measure of light.

Her feet ached, and she was on the verge of stopping to rest when she emerged into what could only be the heart of the vine-valley.

She stood within a vast, nave-like chamber of braided vines that soared skyward, evoking the solemn grandeur of a cathedral. It was as spacious as the throne room in Kaur-Koram, with a high, vaulted ceiling supported by colossal pillars of tightly twisted vines, all arranged in a seemingly random yet organically perfect pattern. Brilliant shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy, filling the space with a warm, golden luminescence. As she stepped fully into the chamber, she became acutely aware that the very floor beneath her was alive. The ground was a carpet of thick, rounded tendrils that made for uncertain footing, yet the surface held firm, not even denting under Roric’s considerable weight.

Her initial awe, however, quickly curdled into a simmering frustration. Where was Asgath? Had she endured a perilous forest and a predatory landscape only to arrive at another dead end? She wasn’t even certain this was the Dryad Groves. And yet…

"Hello!" she shouted, the sudden noise startling Roric. "Asgath, are you here? If you are, please, show yourself!" Her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides. She panted, her voice echoing strangely in the immense, living space. As the last of the echoes died away, an answer came.

"As you wish."

The voice was a strange, resonant chord that seemed to emanate from the very air around her, belonging to neither man nor woman. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she spun around, her eyes darting everywhere, trying to pinpoint the speaker. Roric, however, seemed far less alarmed. He simply lifted his great head, his ears swiveling like twin satellites searching for a signal, and blinked slowly.

A movement ahead of her made Jianna flinch, and Roric shied away with a nervous shuffle. She would have reached for his reins, but she was frozen, transfixed by the impossible sight unfolding before her.

A section of the vine-covered floor began to swell upward. Like a rising tide, the mound gathered more and more tendrils into itself, growing steadily in height. The six-pointed leaves covering the green vines seemed to dissipate like mist as the form ascended. The tendrils themselves began to flow and merge, their individual shapes melting into a single, smooth surface that slowly resolved into a humanoid silhouette. A head, a torso, and two arms took shape. The torso retained its textured, vine-like quality before tapering down and splitting into two legs that remained fused to the greater mass of the floor. The figure itself was sculpted into the form of a boy who looked to be her own age. He could have been any youth from the Out-Realm, were it not for his verdant, living complexion. Even his hair, a messy crest of wiry, coppery-green vines, had an unexpectedly stylish cut to it.

Then, his eyes opened. She found herself staring into two unsettling orbs of glowing pink light, utterly devoid of emotion.

"Are… are you Asgath?" Jianna stammered, deeply unnerved by the strange being.

The creature gave a single, deliberate nod.

"Oh," she murmured, feeling foolish. "Well, I came here because… Ari—Aria, the Seer of Kaur-Koram? Sh-she said—"

"I know why you were sent," Asgath interrupted, and the statement made Jianna’s skin crawl. Even as his lips moved, the sound continued to issue from all around them. The realization struck her with the force of a physical blow. The voice wasn't coming from the humanoid figure. It was coming from the walls, the pillars, the floor. Asgath wasn't just the boy in front of her. Asgath was the entire valley of vines. For the past hour, she had been searching for him while walking inside of him, breathing his very air.

If Asgath was the vines, then what were all the other plants?

Her racing thoughts were cut short by his voice. "But I wish to know why you have come."

Jianna blinked, completely bewildered. "Didn't you just say you knew why I'm here?"

"Yes," Asgath replied in that haunting, all-encompassing voice. "You were sent to me by Aria of Kaur-Koram to be trained in the magical arts. That is the reason you were sent. I ask again: Why have you come?"

Jianna groaned, rubbing the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "That makes no sense."

"Think on it," Asgath instructed. "When you have the answer, come to me. I will not begin your training until then." With that, the strange form seemed to dissolve, unraveling abruptly into a tangle of vines that settled back into the floor, becoming indistinguishable from the rest.

Stunned and more than a little irritated, Jianna stared at the empty space.

"You may release your horse," Asgath's disembodied voice continued, now quieter, almost gentle. "He will be fed and protected so long as you remain within me, as will you. Consider your purpose, Jianna. The time you have to learn what you must is not without limit."

No matter how many questions she screamed into the silent cathedral, no matter how much she pleaded or raged, Asgath did not speak again.