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| Generated by Google ImageFX text-to-image AI software, powered by Imagen 3 |
The wave of fire is drawing too close, and Ingrid has no choice but to duck
into the bunker with Selma, who leads her down the steps to safety. Once
they’re at the bottom, they run through the corridor, and into a wide open
room, which must be a gym. Nearly everyone is here, notable absences being
Killjlir, Ayata, and Andrei. Horrified, the survivors are watching a bird’s
eye view of the destruction on the surface, as likely streamed by a sentry
drone. Princess Honeypea is crying into her brother’s shoulder while the
other Horticulturalists do everything they can to hold back their own tears.
They are distraught, though. There’s nothing they can do to fix this. They
don’t know about the whole garden world out there yet. Is it Ingrid’s place
to tell them? Did the tree have another plan in mind? What the hell are they
supposed to do now?
No one seems to know, but Storm knows that it remains her job to be the
leader. “The universe has suffered a terrible loss,” she begins. “Most
people in existence don’t even know that this place once stood tall and
proud and beautiful. Those who did may never learn that our world was
destroyed. We have a lot to talk about. Some of us have lost our purpose,
others a home, and some of you, a temporary refuge. I don’t know that I can
get any of that back for any of you, but I know that we’re all exhausted and
sad. The barracks are down the hall, to the right. It’s okay if we sleep
here tonight, Weaver?”
“Of course,” Weaver says sincerely.
Storm nods gratefully. “Get yourselves cleaned up, find something to eat in
the kitchen, and then get some rest. We’ll reconvene tomorrow once
everyone’s up to it.” She looks at Pinesong to say something to him quietly,
but stops to say one more thing to the whole group. “Oh, and anyone who
blames themselves in any way for what happened, just don’t. We faced an
impossible enemy, and we lost. There’s nothing you could have done. Don’t
let the anxiety keep you awake.” Now finished, she does move off to the side
with her own people so they can whisper in private.
Ingrid is dirty and bloody, so she takes a shower, and lies down in the
medical pod for a bit, but she isn’t ready to sleep. She’s too curious. The
fire has finished roaring down its path of destruction, leaving the whole
dimension in ashes, but the drone seems to have crashed, or just been
switched off. If she wants to see what it looks like out there now, she’ll
have to go back outside. She dons a respirator mask, and starts walking back
up the stairs. Before she has the chance to open the cellar door, it opens
on its own. Killjlir is standing there. She’s soaking wet and coughing
violently while holding a broken branch tightly in one hand. There are a few
flowers growing from it, and one blue fruit pod hanging from the tip.
Whatever Killjlir has been through, it’s a wonder this thing is as intact as
it is. She passes out, and falls into Ingrid’s arms.
Ingrid carries her new friend back down to the bunker, and into the
infirmary. She places Killjlir in the same pod that she was just using, and
carefully removes the branch from her grasp so the machine can track her
vitals, make its diagnosis, and execute the proper treatments. She’s not
doing well, but she’s not going to die. She suffered wounds all over her
upper body that are consistent with hand-to-hand combat, and cuts on her
legs indicative of crawling through a bower, or perhaps climbing a tree. She
has some level three burns too, but the most pressing threat right now is
the water still in her lungs. The little robot arms turn her to her side,
and then stick a tube down her throat. It suctions some of it out of her
lungs while the rest of the fluid manages to leak out of her mouth. The pod
leaves Killjlir on her side while it moves on to the next issues, in order
of severity. After removing the necrotic tissue, it triggers rapid in situ
dermal regeneration to replace the missing skin. It seals up the cuts with a
liquid bandage, and breaks down the bruises with something that it calls a
macrophage therapy. Lastly, it begins to emit an ultrasonic wave up and down
her body to stimulate blood flow for accelerated healing. Ingrid finally
exhales in relief, seeing that her friend is going to be okay. This is a
strange feeling to be having for a woman she once called her enemy.
Storm walks in. “She’s alive.” It’s unclear if this is a question, or a
statement.
“Yes,” Ingrid replies.
“Has she spoken?”
“Not yet.”
“Was she carrying that?”
Ingrid looks down at the branch, now in her hand. “Yeah, I don’t know
why.”
Storm steps forward. “May I?” She accepts it from a reluctant Ingrid, then
runs her hand along it like it’s a violin that she’s just crafted.
“Bark...wood...flower...fruit...”
“Did she bring it here for a reason?” Ingrid asks.
“I fell on it,” Killjlir explains with a very hoarse voice. The pod reacts
to this development by administering a nebulized soothing agent along her
pharynx. Fortunately, it doesn’t have to stick the tube as far down as it
did before. Killjlir clears her throat, and tries again. “I was climbing the
magnolia when this asshole whacked me in the head. I fell back, and the
branch broke my fall, but then I fell the rest of the way with it into the
water. The current took me away, but I could see the fiery explosion above,
and feel some heat. I’ve been floating ever since. I don’t know how I got
here.”
“I carried you from the entrance,” Ingrid tells her. “You were walking on
your own before that.”
“No, I couldn’t have,” she says with a dismissive shake of her head. “I was
dying.”
“The tree wasn’t a single consciousness in a single whole organism,” Storm
says. “When you broke the branch, you took a little piece of its mind with
you. It might have given your body the strength it needed to make it here
from the river bank. We’re only about twenty meters from it, I would say.”
“So, it’s gone?” Killjlir asks? “It’s all gone.”
Storm smiles, and raises the branch. “This is still here. It’s a symbol of
resilience and strength.”
“The fruit,” Ingrid poses, “can it be planted? Will it make a new magnolia
tree?”
Storm shakes her head. “It’s a virgin fruit, like an unfertilized egg. There
is no seed inside this pod.”
“That’s why I was climbing,” Killjlir tries to clarify. “The Pryce guy, he
told me to retrieve the red fruit on the top of the canopy.”
“A red fruit?” Storm is confused, but intrigued. She pulls the blue
fruit off of the branch, and squints at it. “We’ve always wondered what was
preventing it from producing seeds. If you’re right, something must have
triggered it, but just this once.”
“It’s all about energy.” Princess Honeypea is standing in the doorway.
“Temporal energy?” Storm guesses.
“It metabolizes lots of different forms of energy, including temporal, yes.
It typically uses it to produce its leaves, flowers, sap, and virgin fruit,
but it doesn’t have enough to make a seed, and didn’t have any reason to
until today. When the bad guys broke the dimensional barrier down, the
energy that Pinesong usually channeled to keep it up was all pulled into the
earth at the same time. This gave the Magnolia a surge of power, which it
used to produce a miracle. Like you said, just this one time. It was a last
ditch effort to survive.”
Killjlir turns away from them. “I was its only hope, and I failed.”
Honeypea smiles and lifts the clear casing of the pod. She gently rolls
Killjlir back over by her shoulder. “You were only a distraction.” She takes
the fruit from Storm’s hand. “I can go back to that moment, and fulfill the
task just before the fire overwhelms this world.”
Storm snatches it right back. “No. It’s too dangerous. There are ways that
we can rebuild. We won’t allow visitors this time. At all. The magnolia was
only one tree out of the many thousands of specimens that we’ve saved over
the ages. Saving it would accomplish hardly anything.”
Ingrid takes the fruit this time. “It’s the only one that hasn’t already
been saved,” she insists. “The rest are out there.” She makes a general
gesture towards the surface. “The tree showed us as much. This whole world
is lush with your vegetation, untamed and breathtaking. You’ve just never
seen it before.”
Storm studies Ingrid’s face for signs of deception. Then she looks over at
Honeypea, who shrugs. “I didn’t know. If this is true, Pinesong’s barrier
was always thinner than we knew. Maybe he did it on purpose.”
“I did,” Pinesong confirms after they call him in, and bring him up to
speed. “I made the barrier weak so seeds could and would travel through it.
It’s actually structured to facilitate the right wind currents. That’s also
why I insisted on including the birds and the bees, so they could propagate
certain specimens in their own way. I regret it now, though. The walls would
have held had I made them stronger.”
“Those defilers would have broken through eventually,” Ingrid believes. “And
we would have been left with nothing. You saved all the beauty. It was the
right call.”
“I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Storm says to her husband.
“You were so focused on a structured system. I just didn’t want to contain
life like that, and I was afraid you would force me to change it. I’m
sorry.”
“We’re time travelers,” Princess Honeypea begins. “Maybe what you did in the
past was caused by it being necessary in the future. Maybe it was always
going to end like this.”
“Then it’s my responsibility.” Pinesong takes the fruit from Ingrid. “I’ll
go back and find the magnolia seed.”
“How many can go?” Ingrid questions.
“Only one,” Storm answers.
“No, this is a big one. It could carry two,” Honeypea determines.
“In that case, whoever goes, I’m going with,” Ingrid decides. “They’ll need
protection, and it won’t hurt to have a second set of eyes on the seed. Once
we do get it, it doesn’t mean the day is saved. We’ll have to find a place
to plant it way out there.”
“Then it has to be Onyx,” Honeypea suggests. “He’ll know exactly where it
needs to go. Assuming there is water out there?” she asks her brother
specifically.
“Yeah, there’s even another confluence,” Pinesong replies, “though it’s only
three rivers, not eleven. I don’t know if that’s where it would belong,
though, or what.”
“That’s why it’s gotta be him,” Honeypea reiterates about Onyx.
Storm considers the options. They could go through with this and risk the
timeline, as well as their own lives, or they could cut their losses, and
leave the magnolia in the past. This won’t be an easy decision, so she
decides to not make it right away. She orders everyone to go to bed while
she stores the fruit and the branch it was once attached to somewhere safe,
and secret.
It’s not secret enough for Ingrid, however. After some time has passed, she
finds the hidden trapdoor, climbs down the ladder, and looks around for the
specific hiding place. The room is full of all sorts of treasure. That’s
literal. Gold, diamonds, and other precious jewels are strewn about like a
dragon’s keep.
Before she can locate the safe, or wherever the fruit may be, she hears
Onyx’s voice behind her from the shadows. “It’s not what you think.” He
slowly steps into the light, holding his arms behind his back. “We’re not
hoarders, and we’re not greedy. This stuff is meaningless to us.”
“Where does it come from?” Ingrid asks.
He breathes deeply as he’s hunting for the right words. “It grows here.”
“Come again?”
“I wasn’t here yet when Storm and Pinesong had the idea to build this world
in the first place. They were on their own, and trying to do everything. His
pocket dimension could only be so big, and she struggled to figure out where
to plant the specimens. But apparently, these little trinkets have always
come through since Piney’s sister came on board. You see, transplanting a
plant is difficult on its own. Combine that with the need to transport it
into a pocket dimension that’s inside a parallel dimension, and
you’re just asking for something to go wrong. The Princess solved their
problems, but this new method that she uses has a side effect. It attracts
gold. Not raw gold, though, but forged pieces. She either doesn’t
know why, or refuses to explain. That’s why she changed her first name to
Princess. She thought it was fitting and funny. We toss it down here when we
find a piece on the ground, because what else are we gonna do with it? Every
item comes from a now defunct timeline. Putting it back in the real world
would just flood the market, and as I said, it is of no use to us.”
“It is of no use to me either,” Ingrid agrees. “I’m here for something
else.”
He swings a hand around to his front, revealing that he’s been holding the
last surviving fruit of the magical memory magnolia tree. “Storm is out of
her element. She’s just lost everything that she dedicated her life to
preserving. She’s never gonna be happy with any decision she makes moving
forward. Trust me, she wants us to make it for her.”
“What do we do?”
Onyx flashes those pearly whites, and swings his other arm around to toss
her the branch that the fruit came with. He cups the fruit in both hands
now, and tears it apart down the middle, handing one half to Ingrid. “Pop it
in your mouth, and start chewing.”
She lifts up her half in customary celebration. “May all fall into your
gravity well, but only your enemies hit the ground.” She stuffs it in and
bites down. The flesh is spicy and bitter, and not juicy. She can feel the
fibers shoot out as the fruits are crushed between her teeth. They crawl
down her windpipe and her gullet alike. The tips puncture the tissue, and
spread into every system—nervous, muscular; everywhere. An energy surges
from them, and across every surface of her body, inside and out. Her skin
glows blue, as does Onyx’s. The light that they’re both emanating sweeps out
into the room, and when it fades away, they find themselves on Magnolia
Island. They were aiming for the back of the tree, so Killjlir and Andrei
wouldn’t spot them, but it doesn’t matter. All of the gold and jewels were
spirited away with them. The treasures clatter and clank as they knock each
other down the hill, into the water. The question now is, was this all
predetermined, or have they just changed the timeline?
