The Painting That Gave All

Approaching the base of the newly birthed tree, Lucius pressed his palm to the trunk one last time. The jade light flowed out of him like a flood, seeping into every root and branch until the great biota shimmered like a constellation.

He took a step back. Then another.

His eyes swept behind him, one last look at the delicate figure of Lain, wrapped in a fabric of endless wind. She stood next to Surazal, his hand around her waist, as they both waved him farewell.

He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay in this miracle he’d created, but he knew. He knew it wasn’t his place anymore. That this wasn’t the end of his journey, but the beginning.

One last look as the green light erupted in a blinding gaze, taking the whole world with it.

***

Lucius woke with a sharp inhale.

He laid in the same room of the gallery, only... changed. No dust. No unfinished flooring, no nails scattered about. The ceiling gleamed. The walls were whole. Everything was as it should have been.

But the painting of the bleeding tree, the one that had haunted his entire being, was now gone.

Woah…what the hell happened? he thought. I don’t remember drinking that much at the party…

Lucius rose slowly, his legs stiff, hands trembling. Leaving the gallery behind, he walked out onto the street.

The world felt brand new. Every detail cut sharper, brighter than he remembered. The morning light fractured through high glass windows, scattering across the sidewalks. Even the rhythm of footsteps around him seemed steadier, purposeful. But it wasn’t the city that had changed. It was him.

The world felt brand new. Every detail cut sharper, brighter than he remembered. The morning light fractured through the high glass windows of storefronts, scattering across the sidewalks in pools of gold. Cars rolled past with the steady hum of engines, but instead of noise, Lucius heard rhythm.

A breeze swept down the street, carrying the smell of roasted coffee from a café on the corner, mingled with the faint mineral tang of rain that lingered from the night before. Trees that lined the avenue shook softly in the wind, their leaves not just green but alive, trembling with hues he hadn't noticed before, from deep emerald veins to faint golden edges that caught the light.

Faces passed him by, strangers, commuters, students with bags slung over their shoulders, and for once, he didn't feel the press of the crowd. He noticed the small things, a woman's laugh carrying above the noise of traffic, a child tugging her father's hand toward a bakery window, two men in suits clasping each other's shoulders in a greeting. Simple moments, but they glowed with something he had once been blind to. Life in motion.

The world hadn't shifted, it was still the same city he had stumbled through countless mornings before. But his vision was changed. The dull film had been stripped away, and what remained was a city alive in every crack of pavement, every shard of light, every voice in the crowd.

Lucius slowed his pace, tilting his head back toward the endless stretch of sky above the rooftops. Endless blue, an infinite sea of tranquility, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like he belonged beneath it’s veil.

By the time he reached his apartment, the scintillating sun was fully above.

At his front door, he paused. A strange calm pressed against him, like he was stepping into something new. With a half smile, he pushed it open.

Kenzo sat at the kitchen island, hunched over a bowl of cereal, blonde hair sticking up in wild tufts. He looked up mid bite.

“Hey man, have you been out all night? I didn’t even see you leave,” Kenzo said casually. Then his eyes widened. “Woah. When’d you do that to your hair? Looks sick.”

Lucius squinted in confusion. “What are you talking abo-” He cut himself off, having caught his reflection in the mirror above the table. For a moment, he didn’t recognize the face staring back.

His hair gleamed a jade green, and carved beneath his right eye was a crescent shaped scar, reminders not just of what he endured, but of all he had become.

He reached up, brushing his fingertips along the scar. It was real. All of it.

“Yeah...” he murmured. “I guess it does look pretty cool.”

Turning to put his jacket on the hook, he froze.

Hanging above the living room wall was a painting. His painting. The painting of the bleeding tree, but…altered.

The canvas previously adorned with a bleeding corpse of wood and rot now glowed with life. A grand tree stood proudly on a beach shore, its painted branches serene with green radiance, and what appeared like jade starlight poured out from a smooth opening in its trunk. Polished rocks dotted the gravely sand that lined the vibrant rolling hills, and far off in the distance a mountain peak was silhouetted under the bright sky.

“Where... where did you get that?”

“Oh yeah,” Kenzo said between spoonfuls. “It’s a gift from my dad. All that money he gives to the gallery actually paid off for something. He sent it over for your parents’ anniversary. But if you don’t like it, I can take it down.”

Anniversary. The word didn’t stab him like it used to, his mind could only think of all the fond memories they had together.

They would have loved this, he thought. They would have understood what it meant.

Kenzo shrugged, mouth full. “Seriously, if it’s weird I’ll get rid of it.”

Lucius shook his head slowly. His lips parted, and a small smile painted across his lips.

“No,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “It’s perfect.”