Fin stood at the foot of the Elder Tree's staircase. It was silent in the foyer; four lone mushrooms lit its dark caverns. The Cabinet stood around her, mumbling a prayer to the Ancestors to give her the strength to make the climb.
Bubo placed the Throne of Ascent over her shoulders, and fastened the front straps tight to her chest. It felt like a backpack, but was more of a chair strapped to her, and would be where her dying father sat while she ascended the one thousand stairs to the top of the tree.
In the Rite of Passing, the heir must carry the predecessor to the top of the Elder Tree, where the Eagles nest.
She would go up as Fin, daughter of Falco, and come down as the Twelfth Treethane of Oldroot, Queen Fin of the Forest Gnomes.
That is, if she returned.
Many records in the Book of Eras tell of an heir's heart failing due to exhaustion; therefore, the Rite passed onto a sibling to pick up where they left off. But Fin was an only child. She would either die up there with her father, and a vote would be conducted for a new suitable Treethane family, or she would succeed and return.
The pressure was heavy. But diamonds are made under pressure.
Bubo and Alen lifted the Treethane into the Throne of Ascent. Though he was frail from age, Fin's knees wobbled under the added weight. Her father looked to his Cabinet.
"Defend my Fin. She is young, and will be alone. You must understand that. Be her family where she has none. But do not underestimate her. After all, she is my daughter," he announced, voice gruff and lungs tired.
Fin and her father first went to the balcony: as the doors swung open, all of Oldroot fell silent.
The silence was louder than explosions. Fin felt the entirety of the Forest Gnomes return her gaze. Old women huddled along the tree-homes, children with wide, glittering eyes of wonder, mothers and fathers taking turns holding the baby, teenagers cracking their tree gum. Farmers and foragers with dirty hair, shop keeps adjusting their glasses, seamstresses in their finest handmade dresses. Oldroot.
Her ears rang, thronging against her head.
The crowd's bioluminescent mushrooms turned into a sea of red, and the drums began to thud. Oldroot began to sing The Song of A Thousand Steps. The drums would guide her pacing, the singing would guide her heart.
Fin turned her back, revealing the Throne of Ascent, allowing Oldroot to see Falco the Eagle Eye one last time. Beads of sweat were already forming at her brow. She felt the Throne sway with his wave, and the crowd erupted into cheers.
Falco!
Falco!
Falco!
Eye of the Eagle! Savior of Oldroot!
Falco!
Falco!
She walked towards the beginning of the Thousand Steps.
"Finny," her father sighed, taking labored breaths, "take all the time you need. There's no rule against stopping and resting...the Eaglet must build her strength before she can fly."
The balcony doors shut behind them. To the rhythm of the drums, she took her first step out of a thousand. Then the second. Then the third.
There was one rule to the Rite, and that was this: there's no turning back.
At step one-hundred-and-twelve her left knee buckled, and she fell forward, her hands instinctively saving her. They rang with pain under the weight.
"Time for a break," her father said. She wiggled out of the Throne and propped him against the wall of the Tree.
She collapsed against the tree. The chanting was dull through the bark, but the drum beats still hit her square in the chest.
"Rest, breathe." She felt his hand pat her sweat-drenched hair.
He looked at her with nostalgia, love, and pain.
"You have your mother's fire in your heart," he said, "Please, tell me what you remember of her."
Fin could feel her heartbeat in her teeth. "I remember her skin was always warm. Whenever she hugged me, I'd feel her muscle. I remember how her voice would raise in those Cabinet meetings. Not out of anger, but, something more complex...passion?"
Falco's amber eyes, old and bloodshot, glistened with tears, "She was usually yelling at me during those times. She never trusted the Humans. I wanted to make peace with them—she would yell, 'Peace only works if your enemy has a conscience.' I sense her fire deep inside you, but you have the patience of a Forest Gnome."
The last two words rang in her ears. "Was Mom... not a Forest Gnome?"
"It's an old story, about one hundred steps long," he sighed. She reattached herself to the Throne and continued to ascend.
"Back when I was your age, Oldroot had a very strong alliance with the Rock Gnomes of Peshchera Mountain. I visited frequently with Lute—we would bring honey and truffles in exchange for all sorts of things. Gems, gold, forged armor and supplies. Your mother, Zolotaya Zhila, was the head of the Peshcheri Army. She loved Oldrootian honey and taught me how to forge a sword. She had eyes like gold and a heart like a furnace.
"One day, I received a carrier owl with a message in her handwriting: Peshchera Mountain had fallen under human siege. I hopped on my Eagle and called the Watch. Oldroot rushed to defend Peshchera Mountain with our archers."
He sighed and trailed off. Fin took another couple steps.
"I bartered with the human king, Bern Adros. I offered establishing trade, as Gnomes can find veins in smaller places. We even showed him. Lute and I treated it as a kingdom-to-kingdom trade establishment. He agreed to call off his army and spend a few weeks thinking it over. I should have known that was a bad sign. But I was young and proud.
"Trade did begin, and life was swell for a bit. Your mother and I married in the Crystal Caverns within Peshchera Mountain. It was a magical time. We took a long vacation in Oldroot, and we dined on truffles, sweet berries and honey. Your mother had quite a sweet tooth. It was a short but elated honeymoon, and we returned to Peshchera Mountain.
"The week after we married, Peshchera Mountain fell. The mines were overtaken by Adros' army. They had had enough of trade, of thinking of us as equals. It was a day of slaughter. We rose and defended, as best as we could. Your mother had been injured during the attack—I sent the Eagles to take her to Oldroot. Lute and I managed to get the rest out through a moving Illusion. But many were killed, missing, enslaved, or hiding... I still ache for those we left behind. The Peshcheri became refugees in Oldroot."
They stopped and pulled to the side. Her father had packed a water skin and some bread for her. She sipped and listened.
"We tried our best to make the Peshcheri feel like Oldroot could be a new home. But just as we would miss the forest, the Peshcheri missed the mountain. They were miners and tinkerers, not farmers and foragers," he shook his head, almost laughing.
"Your mother gave birth to you on a summer at high noon—and she loved you very much. She wanted you to be able to see the mountain someday. And that fire, that love for you and the Peshcheri, burned furiously. She decided to stage a re-siege of Peshchera Mountain."
Fin stared. Peshchera Mountain. She couldn't even imagine a mountain outside of a drawing. She couldn't picture her mother outside of a portrait.
"Who was I to stop her? This was her home, her people. I would have done the same if it were Oldroot. I sent our best archers with her and the Peshcheri, along with the Eagles. But she made me promise, that after she left, that we'd put an Illusion around Oldroot, so that no one could find us. So that no one could find you, Fin."
Fin swallowed. She felt a lump rise in her throat.
Her father's face scrunched as tears ran down his withered cheeks.
"The Eagles brought her body back a few weeks later. I mourned for years. Oldroot mourned for decades, as archers came back carrying the fallen: it was a century of funerals after funerals. We never saw the Peshcheri again. We found ourselves lucky that Oldroot had not been seen. We stood no chance against the humans. We vowed to never make ourselves known."
Fin held her father's hand. The morning light poured through windows carved out of the bark.
"I know you know the story from the Oldrootian side, the war with the humans and all. But I wanted you to know the Peshcheri side, your mother's side. You are their only survivor. Protect the fire in your heart. Because Finny, you will have to decide what to do with the Illusion. It was made for you," he gave her hand a little squeeze.
She reeled, processing all of it. Her mind tumbled back to her childhood, trying to remember a face, a smell, a moment. But all she could see was her father, here, with her. Treethane Falco. Illuded Oldroot. Her mother's one and only message to her: I love you.
After awhile, Fin got into a rhythm, her mind re-living the story again and again with every step. Her father had fallen asleep for quite a while. Breath after breath, she found herself pushing through pain, oxygen flowing through her quicker than ever. The tree's stairs almost rocked with her footsteps. Maybe the Ancestors were helping her.
At the final step she collapsed. Maybe two, three days had gone by? Her legs trembled, poisoned with adrenaline. Her father clapped, and she laughed an exhausted, hysterical laugh.
"I knew you could do it, Fin," he beamed. He appeared more exhausted than her, but his spirits were higher. "The final task we must complete: communion with the Eagles."
Contact with the Eagles was a privilege to only the Treethanes. Both the Eagles and the Treethane line considered the Elder Tree their home. Therefore, they must commune with one another, one from the canopy, and one from the roots.
With the rest of his strength, Falco rose out of the Throne of Ascent. He interlocked his arm with hers as they slowly climbed the last few stairs, together. She felt him depend on her, his weight gently pulling at her elbow.
Cold morning air rushed past her fevered ears. Sunlight burned her eyes as the stairs passed through an opening.
A whole world opened up below her—a sea of green misty trees in the morning light, a bruise-colored mountain beyond that, its icy climax just above the forest canopy in the horizon.
Her father stopped and took a deep inhale. He surveyed the view. "Ahhh... The Great Arlindale Forest. It surely is something."
Fin reminded herself to breathe. Goodness, she felt small. So absolutely insignificantly tiny.
A "squawk" sounded behind her. She jumped, feeling the height suck her in, a swirling vertigo.
"Sit, my child," her father released her, and she found herself sitting in a heap on the floor, "and allow me to introduce you to a dear friend."
A downy head popped out of a giant nest. It had an ugly-cute face, it's beak large and adult, contour feathers young and ruffled. It fluttered it's meaty wings, and screamed in her father's face, echoing long through the vast forest.
"Now, now, now, no need to get worked up. I'm here to see your mother," her father assured the eaglet thrice the size of him. He turned to Fin, "Fin, meet your new friend. Your first task as Treethane."
Fin and the Eaglet looked at each other. It cocked its head, eyes blinking with that side-film that moves over the eye. She smiled. It was very scary, but also very cute. She wanted the same to be thought of her.
Her father crawled into the nest. The Eaglet shifted and opened its mouth to say something, but a distant screech interrupted her. Flapping its gargantuan wings, a wingspan over eight Gnomes long, a Giant Harpy Eagle settled herself on the edge of the nest. She flicked her feather-crowned head towards her baby, then at Fin's father, whom of which gestured for Fin to come up.
She crawled in but found herself standing behind him, as she did as a shy little girl.
"Amber Eye," he sat, weary. The exhaustion seemed to hit him in its totality. He looked up at the Giant Harpy Eagle. She chittered and ruffled her feathers. "My time... our time... has come. My daughter, Fin, has completed the Rite. We must say our goodbyes and allow our children to find their way."
She spread her wings, surrounding the nest momentarily. Her eyes locked with Fin's.
You are the heir... Marvelous! a "she" Treethane. This She-Eagle welcomes you. I sense a strength in you that many She-Creatures struggle to find within themselves.
Fin smiled at the compliment. She bowed with a hand over her heart.
There will be many trials, She-Treethane. But you know this. I have one request, a request my mother made to your father many decades ago regarding myself. You must train with my child. She is not ready to fly: she must first build the strength. But she will not be able to find the strength in herself until I leave. It's a hard lesson life teaches us. You, Fin, daughter of Falco, of all creatures, have empathy for this.
Fin rested her head on her father's shoulder. "That I do."
He turned to face her. He hugged her, and she felt his frail body try to make the hug a strong one. She gently returned it.
"I love you, Dad."
"I love you too, Finny. I may be away, but I am not gone. Keep me in your heart. From there, I'll never be far."
She helped him settle himself on Amber Eye's back. Tears were running down her face.
Amber Eye nuzzled her eaglet one last time. The eaglet chittered, confused.
Amber Eye reared up her wings, and dove away from the Elder Tree. Fin cried, crumpling into the nest, forcing herself to watch until Amber Eye and her father became a small dot on the horizon.
The Eaglet cried unrelentingly for an entire sun and moon. Her confused scream rolled through the Arlindale Forest. Fin stayed with her throughout it all, trying to reassure her. But the pain was too close, too present in both of them.
"I will name you Third Day. Because that's the day we will both stop crying. But for now..."
Third Day huddled into a ball. Fin cuddled up to her. They both shuddered in silence, pressed up against each other, allowing themselves to feel the pain of loss in totality.
ns 18.68.41.175da2
