To Fly the Soaring Tides

Chapter 284 - 277 - Proliferation

Cira wanted to take a break, but it would take a great deal of time for her to feel rested after everything she experienced in the obelisk thus far. Her eyes which were previously determined and studious had grown stoic and somehow distant, far-reaching. As if tempered in the weathering of time, or maybe she had just been awake too long.

Once more she reached out her hand, placing it on the third plaque.

This time she had no form, nor could she move. Instead, she hung in an empty expanse. If it weren't for the lack of distinct elements around her, Cira would think she were in the depths of the elemental chaos again. This place wasn't completely empty though.

There was a white dot in the distance, like a small bead glimmering faintly in the cosmos. It gradually grew larger until it couldn't help but draw the eyes. Cira didn't know how far away it was, but it continued to grow until it appeared as a small white sun.

But it was a little misshapen. An indiscernible amount of time flew by before Cira realized exactly what she was looking at. When a small crack appeared on top of the object. From it a small sprout grew, along with a single leaf.

Cira's heart shuddered as she understood that this was the awakening seed of that boundless tree. As she watched it sprout, it felt as if countless years had passed, but at the same time an afternoon. At such a scale, Cira was getting mental whiplash.

However, the sprout rose without care for her weary heart until much later, branches formed. Along the branches grew leaves and a lush canopy was born.

Those leaves fell every now and again, and Cira watched them get caught in the sprawling roots. As time lurched forward unceasingly, those same leaves seemed to be born anew in the canopy. The tree only expanded into the horizon as this process repeated itself endlessly.

After too many repetitions to count, Cira saw something new. A little green caterpillar crawled up the trunk.

Though at this distance, it was likely massive. It was the first lifeform Cira had seen within the obelisk. Well, aside from the tree.

Could it be that this tree… is the origin of life?

Cira felt that she understood something, but it was more like barely scratching the surface. If all life came from this tree, where did the seed she watched grow up come from? There were faint hints of elemental origin around as she observed the white speck, but it all seemed diffused and faded. To draw a comparison, it was almost like the residual traces of mana left behind from spells.

Has the chaos of elements ended…? Perhaps they've settled, and what I felt really is something of the residual origin energy from their countless interactions. These traces amalgamated together and… created life? Is this really some special realm inside the obelisk, or…

Have I been visiting the distant past?

Cira had a great deal of time to ponder. While she distinctly felt unfathomable years were passing, it went by quickly. Like a waking dream.

More caterpillars came and went, while eventually butterflies fluttered out along the canopy like watercolored spatter across the green heavens. Flowers formed among the branches as if to attract butterflies or perhaps sustain them. Soon each flower appeared to grow as they were flocked by vibrant wings.

Different flowers grew near the tree's crown, in the lower branches, along the trunk, or far below at the roots. Soon, or maybe over a great deal of time, each budding site only expanded as the butterflies grew in number. Cira witnessed the symbiosis of life, the infinite proliferation and complimentary deviations of the same origin.

As this place grew ever more vibrant by the day, more creatures sprung up around each bud without relent. Like small worlds were born upon vital points on the tree of life. Cira could practically feel the draw, being a living creature herself, but from this perspective she could see them all.

They were like stars in the sky, but somehow even more innumerable. Some of these worlds even formed small suns as elements began to coagulate around each one.

Time continued forward, and earth coalesced in the roots. More life was formed as if upon newborn continents, which soon grew old and weathered. Parts of the trunk were hollowed out and became the home of yet more creatures. Dew gathered in upturned leaves, and Cira watched entire oceans develop on them.

But the leaves all eventually decayed and fell to the ground. Cira watched the essence of each living being wither, only to be absorbed back into the collapsing tree.

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After watching this cycle over and over, time was begging to etch itself into her soul as if she were truly experiencing the unfathomable vicissitudes of this tree. Nothing could escape this churning of existence, and eventually Cira had grown accustomed to witnessing it.

One life would be extinguished and become nourishment for the impending proliferation of…

This is… the cycle. Reincarnation. All must return to its origin eventually and become fuel for the expanse of life.

Each lifeform was broken down, then traveled from the roots up the trunk. Many continued further, into the branches and even the leaves. Some stretched toward the horizon into the newest growth, pioneering the path to unseen skies as the tree pushed the limits of the term 'boundless'.

Then one day, the growth slowed. After a time, the tree no longer expanded. Parts of it wilted, and eventually the tree was a shadow of its former self. Flowers lost their luster and the countless worlds dwindled.

The tree of life began to collapse under its own weight. Many worlds collided and shattered, turning life to death. The wood seemed to turn darker, almost gray, as if all the vitality had been sucked out of it. Everything crumbled and what little life existed in this place shrunk down to a single point. A little white speck with a dim shine.

But it did not sit alone in the cosmos. Instead, remnants of the worlds of the past hung in space, surrounding the dreary seed. They orbited around it, as if clingling to a shred of the connection left along through the passings of life.

Scattered seas like the breaking of waves and crushed smatterings of earth like continents… or islands. They hung in the sky as if that was where they belonged, beneath a single sun made up from the last shreds of light in all creation. The scene was oddly familiar, except these skies held no life, only the faint traces of its origin left behind.

Cira watched in a daze as this all too collapsed inward, and the seed once again sprouted. It grew into a tree and became more lush than ever. Other life formed yet again, and it seemed somehow more diverse. This time around, the tree reached even further into the horizon.

Then the tree of life died.

Again.

And again.

And again…

This cycle seemed like it would never end and took longer each time as the bounds of life were pushed forward with each incarnation.

Cira could truly feel the passing of time shaping her like rivers through a valley. There came a point when Cira lost track of how many times she had witnessed the death and rebirth of the tree of life, of countless worlds, but she was starting to worry. Her body wasn't here, nor did her soul appear to be, but it became clear with each repetition that her consciousness alone would not be able to escape the clutches of time even in this dream-like state.

She was, after all, alive.

But she had no form to disperse in this place. All she could do was… observe.

This went on like clockwork. She had thoroughly witnessed the turning of the first gear, and each one after that. Now, they were truly unstoppable in their path, forced to turn forever by cycles of the distant past.

Cira watched. Each passing of life was entirely unique, and unprecedented beings formed anew each day. Some were recognizable, while others were outlandish. There were furred beasts, and those with scales or feathers. Many had none of those things and quite a few creatures were completely unidentifiable.

In the end, that same broken sky would appear around the seed, seeming to grow larger each time the remnants of worlds dispersed. It would slowly fall in as the seed absorbed traces of everything in the cosmos. A dense ocean formed around the seed to form a globe toward the end and eventually the continents and myriad islands fell into the sea. Everything was absorbed again and the seed… sprouted anew

Life and death. Beginning and ending, only to start again.

This never slowed, never paused. It could not. Cira bore witness to it all.

The tree withered again, and the remnant skies expanded before woefully contracting. All of creation followed this rhythm, like the beating of a heart. Cira's own seemed to fall in synch with it. She could feel it pushing blood through her veins as a heat burned into her soul beyond the obelisk. It was a familiar sensation yet somehow so distant.

In this place, Cira had become a being who outlived the cycle of creation countless times over, and she was starting to go mad. Before she could observe each and every life, but now countless worlds were born and crumbled in the blink of an eye. And she had always seen this. A mere handful of years as a sorcerer was hardly a blip in this place.

By all rights it should never end. But Cira knew it would. Like the life and death of single caterpillar, all cycles must come to an end. Whether that's the beginning of a larger cycle or the end of one was uncertain. She could feel the rapid advance of time coming to its destination. As if the present were approaching.

Her heart beat. Somewhere far but also everywhere in this place. Worlds were born, then fell.

It beat again. They always crumbled.

And again.

Oceans contracted and shattered lands dotted the sky. Her heart didn't beat. After more repetitions than Cira could count, the seed refused to absorb that last bit of sea and sparse earth.

Or has it failed…?

Cira couldn't fathom what would make that tree of life to fail to germinate, but the result was that a single world remained, formed from the shattered remains of too many others. Strangely, in this moment that seemed like the wheel of creation had ceased, Cira felt a strange resonance from the center of this remnant world. It was familiar, but something she hadn't known in what felt like ages. It almost was as if the seed was surrounded by a faint shroud of aether.

This was not something she could unravel at the moment, but there was some small relief.

In this place, and at this time… her heart refused to beat. Creation had seemingly come to a halt, and the present arrived.

Cira stood before the obelisk with a pale face. She drew in a sharp breath and her heart beat once more. This was another exhausting dream that had her head spinning. Cira didn't feel any older, but she was tired.

There was no strength left in her body, and she collapsed to the floor. Cira couldn't move, but she glared up at the obelisk.

There was only one more plaque in her way. Then she would go home.