The Nilam, Withered Tree

No, those aren't willow branches bowing in the wind, nor even clouds swirling in patterns like dense foliage… They're clusters containing thousands – no, millions – of moths, swaying in the air like the tentacles of a colossal squid run aground. They offer nothing more than an illusion of life, a simulacrum. Because the world tree before me is most certainly dead. Wedged between the twin spurs of the Cais Adarra, the venerable giant seems as listless as an old man. All life has left it, and it's a mere shadow of its former self, a husk that will gradually wither away. In fact, its trunk is no longer made of wood, but of crystal. If all the moths flew away this very second, all that would remain would be a bent, scrawny, sickly old tree. An elderly ghost, bound for oblivion. Ultimately, everything here is pure illusion…

I force Lindiwe to raise her eyes, and she looks into the darkness lurking between the two peaks. The night that has fallen over the gorge sparkles with snowflakes, which drift through the air like rising and falling stars. Following my instructions, my host takes a sip of Arcolano Milk and inspects the world tree's remains through her Irises. Its transparent bark seems scarred, as though covered with bite marks and puncture wounds. I realize that it has been sucked dry on many occasions. Could the moths have done this? But more importantly, the tree seems to contain something. There's a worm in the apple… a parasite. Lindiwe narrows her eyes to give me a clearer view of what's incubating beneath its surface. There's something most definitely out of place… like a snake gliding along its branches and roots. There's something clearly feeling very cramped in there…

MAW

393 AC