Chapter 20

The days blended into nights as Haledon spent the next three months fulfilling his oath to Sparrow. He would train in Druidry by day while dedicating his nights to the Astralaceae and its rapidly evolving ecosystem. Most evenings, Haledon found his way back to the den late in the night cycle, covered in sap and barely able to keep himself awake. And while he lay in his leafy bed, allowing the darkness to consume him, the same troubled dreams wracked his unconscious mind for the few hours of sleep he received.

With a start, Haledon opened his eyes from the vivid dreams, instinctively rubbing at his stomach. His sleeping reality had again stopped changing. Instead, it had become fixated on the wolf at the edge of the pond. Every night, as the pink moon steadily crossed the horizon, the wolf would always approach and bury the dagger in his gut.

He released a sigh as he rolled to his side to sit up, carefully keeping his head ducked low in an attempt not to disturb the hammock above him.

In the week following the Mecharrion assault, countless Druids were found in survivable pockets of debris collected for decomposition. As thousands of refugees began integrating into the remaining Astralaceaes and Megacolides, Haledon's ship had become the hub for the majority of the stranded.

The Earth Druids used the additional organic matter from the still-attached Megacolides to accelerate the Astralaceae's natural modification process. The changes came in many forms, from new research rooms for Earth Druids, larger gathering areas for recreation, and additional living spaces.

Haledon's single-Druid den had been one of the first to change, even before the survivors arrived. At Sparrow's request, the room was grown to accommodate two lofted hammocks hanging over the two leaf beds on the floor.

"You were exceptionally whiny last night," Witch-Hazel commented from the other bed.

"Yeah, well..." Haledon mumbled and stood. He rubbed his body and brushed off the excess leaves. After a long pause and a deep yawn, Haledon continued. "You smell of root rot. Get a foliar spray or something."

"Ooh, is there a frost this morning? Because I'm getting a cold shoulder."

"He's just nervous," Gazeas said as she gripped a ceiling root and swung from the hammock above Haledon. "Sparrow is testing us on the first six principles of Permanent Druidic Culture today."

"Just call it Druidry." Witch-Hazel sighed.

"No, I like Permanent Druidic Culture," Gazeas replied with a smile. "And if you don't like it, you can root yourself in a bog."

"Geeze, both of you are in a mood." Witch-Hazel held up their hands, and a small bouquet of white flowers grew from their fingers. "I surrender my ecosystem to you, my Mecharrion developers."

"You'll both do fine!" Spark reassured them from the corner.

Haledon looked over to see her naked body bowed down in a stretch with arms reaching for the floor and the ceiling.

"Still having trouble with your SOIL?" Haledon asked.

"Yeah, I just can't get the new foliage loose enough for a good stretch without jeopardizing integrity—original bodysuit for yoga until further notice." Standing up straight, Spark tapped her breastplate, and the foliage instantly grew over her, hardening into a rigid bark. "But anyway, now that everyone is up, you should all eat some food."

"Where's Mek-Tek?" Haledon asked, looking to the hollow in the wall that made up the Sciurus' bed.

"He didn't return last night. He's been digging deep into the 'you-know-what.' He says he's close." Witch-Hazel informed the group.

"Well, maybe we should go grab him—"

"We'll get him a handful of nuts and berries. He'll be fine," Spark replied with a wave of her hand. "I'll get us a spot by the watering hole."

"Wait, wait—" Haledon mumbled as he stretched his arms and neck. Tapping his barken breastplate, the SOIL grew foliage over his bare body. "I'm coming now."

"I think we all are..." Gazeas replied, following their lead and growing her foliage armour.

Without hesitation, the guild made its way into the bustling corridor. Haledon's Astralaceae pod was one of the areas currently undergoing vigorous regrowth and already housed twice as many Druids as any other seed. Elevated walkways were added and attached to a second level to accommodate the new traffic, allowing people to enter the additional rooms being routinely produced.

Passing familiar faces, the guild smiled and chatted as they sauntered by. A particularly flower-filled bramble knight strode past the group with a small smile. The floral hand of the knight reached out, brushing Witch-Hazel's bark cheek. Haledon watched as Witch-Hazel revealed a slight shiver, with their gaze following the other juggernaut passing by.

"What was that about?" Haledon asked quickly with a coy smirk.

"Oh, you know what that was about." They replied and inhaled deeply. "Mmm, lilac blossoms. Talk about a nutrient booster."

"Keep your root in the soil." Gazeas laughed, prompting chuckles from the rest of the group.

"Speaking of Druids needing to bury a perennial root in the soil..." Witch-Hazel turned their head to look at Gazeas and Haledon.

Gazeas' laugh turned into a cough as she blushed.

"What?" Haledon asked, looking between the two.

"A little human-biotic pollination!" Spark yelled out as they walked through the threshold of the watering hole.

Several Druids adjusted their heads to look around at the guild as they walked into the amphitheatre. Haledon felt the confused stares acknowledging their presence as his face quickly began turning red.

"By pollination, you mean—? Why would we—umm—that?" He followed up quietly.

"Why would you—" Spark's surprised expression glanced his way. "Other than primal, animal instinct...? Probably reproduction."

"But the Astralaceae takes care of that."

"Do I dare ask what that means?" Witch-Hazel asked as they pulled themselves up against one of the terraces. They settled into a free patch of grass as the group walked the long way around.

Haledon looked to Gazeas, who was staring back at him. Their eyes locked for a moment before they both flashed small smiles.

"So, I guess I do have to ask what that means?"

"It is a carefully maintained genetic lottery," Gazeas spoke up as the guild approached Witch-Hazel. "When a Druid dies, another Druid is born. The Astralaceae anticipates this and makes arrangements for a child to be born within a few-month window to maintain the nutrient balance."

"Yes—" Haledon cut in with a nod.

"When the ship determines a child needs to be seeded, the two most genetically viable Druids are selected. Their foliage then releases a pheromone that brings the mates together."

"So...that's it?" Spark asked, continuing to speak as she approached the nearby food-wall. "It's purely for repopulation, and you don't even get a choice?"

"Choice?" Haledon began to speak louder, watching her as she wandered. "The Astra is a perfectly balanced system. Rampant overpopulation would offset the nutrient flows. Every..."

Haledon began to mutter to himself as he closed his eyes and thought. He quickly tapped his fingers with each silent calculation.

"Every two seed drops onward would be at risk of hull failure upon seeding. And that risk would increase exponentially with each generation! Nutrient deficiency is no joke."

"I see you've been working on those L-D-Rs from the other Astra. Learn anything interesting?" Witch-Hazel smirked and leaned back into the grass, looking up to the stars above.

"Yes, exactly what I just said. That other Astralaceae experienced a nutrient lockout due to low hydrogen potential in their Forward Hypogeal Node. We found an unknown substance attached to the astral alloy. That alone produced a cascade of abnormalities in the ship's genetics. This resulted in nutrients not being properly distributed, and people getting sick and dying."

"People are sick and dying? Better eat up, you could have to repopulate at any moment." Spark returned with a woven basket of assorted fruits and vegetables.

"No, I—can we talk about something else?"

"Sure, how about your test today?" Spark followed up as she withdrew her obsidian dagger and sliced a kiwi in half. Squeezing one of the halves into her mouth, she sloppily chewed as she waited for Haledon's response.

"It’ll be fine. I just don't understand waste."

"Vastum." Witch-Hazel quickly replied.

"Yes, thank you, I get that. It’s more like the concept of ‘waste’ is foreign, and the Shaman Tree lessons only made it more confusing. Strange stone buildings that need generations to break down...I mean, come on—nonsense. We've always been in balance, never taking more than we needed, always decomposing everything back into the ship—a perfect cycle. Why would anyone not do that?"

"Okay, imagine you're removing a frail nutrient line and grafting a new one—" Witch-Hazel began, but was cut off by Haledon.

"I never would—unless the Astralaceae were seeding."

"Yes—okay—fine, but just imagine. And after you graft the new line in, you toss the root to the ground."

"It would decompose and—"

"Fine, you hold it, and it doesn't decompose. That is a waste."

"But I would never do that."

"Are you purposely being difficult?” Witch-Hazel asked and was met with Haledon’s smile. “Mmhmm, well, just remember that some things don’t promote natural cycles or maintain the balance of Nature."

"Like the Mecharrion."

"Or the wen—" Spark shouted out before catching herself and continuing more quietly. "Or the wendigo toxin. When Gazeas removed that from my SOIL, that was a waste."

"Okay, sure…that makes sense." Haledon looked around, still confused as he tossed a handful of blueberries into his mouth.

"What about you, Gaz?" Spark continued.

"Hmm?" She looked up from the yellow tomato she was consuming. "Oh, yeah, I get it. I'm sure it'll be fine. Haledon just likes to work himself up. I remember this one time when Farran told him that he may one day be called to manage the Hypogeal Nexus. He didn't sleep for weeks!"

The guild released a laugh, Haledon included, as he looked around at his friends.

"Well, no way Farran or I could have expected all of this. And I mean, with Sparrow, I don't think I'll ever have a quiet moment in the Nexus again." Haledon chuckled and paused as he thought about Farran for the first time in a long time. "I wonder how they are—the Druids from the last seed fall. They have no idea about any of this."

"There was a plan back on Earth to send envoys to Druid worlds shortly after the Astralaceaes fleet," Witch-Hazel replied. "I'm sure that they've been informed at this point."

Haledon nodded with a relieved sigh before continuing to chew. The guild enjoyed their foraged meals with light conversation, both amongst themselves and those around them. Haledon found a moment of calm in one particular lull as he looked up at the space above him.

He admired how the watering hole had also begun to expand, growing another terrace's worth of food. Haledon watched as young saplings ran around the mucky, unfinished decomposition and climbed the walls to get closer to the embryonic window that revealed the fleet. He allowed his mind to wander, letting the conversations and laughter around him fill the air and soothe his senses.

"That's a good amount of food," Gazeas said. She rubbed at her stomach in a Mek-Tek fashion after finishing her collection of fruits and vegetables. "Are we ready?"

"I just need a drink of water, then we can go," Haledon replied as he stood. "I'll meet you all down by the pond."

"I'm coming!" Spark said excitedly as she jumped up and followed him. She waited until there were a few terraces between them and the group before she continued to talk. "So you and Gazeas...you going to, uh, you know."

She made sly hand motions that Haledon quickly slapped at.

"Ey," He spoke up. "If the Astralaceae decides I'm to be selected, then I will plant the seed in the appropriate field."

"Oh, la-la, so romantic." She teased.

Haledon laughed as he walked through the sedges and reeds that made up the water’s edge. Reaching for a nearby tree, he grabbed a mug dangling from its branch and drove it into the clear pool. He watched as the ripples raced across the water, eventually crossing the deeper, darker center of the pond. As the waves distorted reality, a figure appeared in the reflection.

Looking up, Haledon saw the pale figure standing on the other side of the pond. Taking a drink, he slapped his hand to Spark's shoulder and pointed forward.

"You see that?"

"What am I looking for?" Spark asked as she followed his gaze across the water.

"Birchbark, right ahead of me, looking at the stars."

"Nope, I don't see it. First sighting in...?"

"Twenty-three day-cycles. Let the group know I'm approaching."

Haledon handed over his mug and walked away from Spark. He remained silent as he stepped around the pond, carefully observing the frail physique of the hallucination they had named Birchbark. Delicately, he reached his hand out, holding his breath with his final tiptoed steps.

The vines receded away from his hand as he placed the naked palm to the figure's chest. The bark was cold, nipping at his fingertips like hundreds of frigid needles. Haledon panicked and tried to pull his hand away, but it held tight as the figure shifted its head with a loud snap. It stared at Haledon, the deep hollows of its eyes looking through him. The pain in his fingers vanished as quickly as it had appeared and was met with soothing warmth.

"Haledon." The voice echoed as though they were far away and barely audible. "Haledon."

"I am Seral Druid Haledon. Who are you?" He asked.

The echoes of his words reverberated around the room. And at the same time, they whispered in the back of his head.

"Druid Haledon—who are you—who—I—am?" The words bounced back at him and around his mind.

A high-pitched whine screeched in Haledon's ear, causing him to wince. Taking his free hand, he placed it to his head as he continued to listen to the jumble of words. The distant voices echoed louder and louder, crying his name until they were silenced.

"Haledon, are you okay?" Spark approached.

"Wha—yes," He replied, shaking his head as he looked at the space where Birchbark had previously stood.

Haledon stretched out his jaw as he tried to counteract the ringing in his ears. Withdrawing his hand, he examined the fingertips. He immediately noticed that the ones he had placed on the pale figure were discoloured.

"I think I made contact." He remarked, staring into his hand.

"You said it spoke before."

"But this time, I think I spoke to it, and it replied."

"What replied?" Gazeas asked as she approached.

"Birchbark."

"You saw it?"

"For less than a minute. But look," Haledon extended his hands. "I made contact."

"Hmm, it appears to be a very mild case of frostnip." She acknowledged as she gently rubbed at his fingers and looked at him. "Very interesting—can you feel that?"

"Yes," He replied, feeling his face become flush. He quickly pulled his hand away. "But anyway, we should tell Sparrow."

"Tell Sparrow what?" A powerful voice announced from behind the Druids. Haledon turned to see the turquoise desert foliage of Primeval Druid Mesa standing behind them. He stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest and a severe look on his face. "Hopefully, nothing too serious?"