"What... Des! I have never seen anything so calming! How did you do that? I feel... as if I understand a little, but... how? You are not Lucid, are you? This is so... incredible!"

  As the glow faded, Des looked at its place and sighed. The warmth receded slowly from his palms, leaving behind a pleasant tingling sensation that pulsed along his fingers.

  "It was thanks to you. Your words made me think. Made me think about my urge, my... dream? A dream within the Dream. That is so strange, although it is what it is. I understood what the tree means. What my urge means. I want to grow something that makes people happy, something they can enjoy, something that can heal them."

  Then another thought rose within him. It surfaced like a quiet truth that had waited a long time to be spoken.

  "I think, Dio... I think... if we plant this seed... I think its tree could save Brela..."

  Dio leapt up from the old fallen log they had been sitting on, his movement sending loose bark scattering across the ground. His face was barely visible in the first moonlight, yet Des saw his silhouette trembling with excitement.

  "Des, that would be wonderful! We have to keep her in the Dream! We must. Then maybe she will be saved, I hope... No, I know it. This seed, it is life! It is life, I can feel it. I think I understand a little of what happened, although not everything. Still, I am sure that you are right. Maybe we can save her!"

  Dio suddenly gave Des a firm but friendly slap on the shoulder. His touch was warm and full of restrained energy. In his eyes was a profound depth Des had never seen before, almost sparkling as if hidden fires had awakened within him.

  "Where should we plant it?" Dio asked, his gaze flickering across the dimly lit village.

  "There is only one place, of course," Des answered with a smile.

  He tried to stand, although his body suddenly felt weak and limp. His legs gave way beneath him, and he stumbled. A wave of dizziness washed over him, darkening the edges of his vision, and he would have fallen if Dio had not caught him by the shoulders.

  "Hey, hey. Des, what... are you alright?"

  "I... yes, I am simply really exhausted. Really, really..."

  "I understand. You just used Lucidity, I think, and that takes its toll..."

  Hurriedly, Dio steadied him, his grip firm and supportive, while Des tried to focus on the path ahead. The night felt thicker now, the air heavy. His limbs ached with a deep, hollow fatigue. Only rest and meditation could soothe him now, only the soft grassy floor of his hut, which he still used as a bed, and the slow descent into relaxation.

  He vaguely felt himself lying down. The golden seed remained warm in his clenched fist, a gentle pulse of light leaking through his fingers. Des looked at his hand, wondering what his little miracle would bring, wondering how something so small could feel so alive. Finally he sank into his inner depths, where shimmering gold drifted through darkness.

  The next day, Des knelt beside a small hole he had dug in the fertile soil between the flowers he had planted long ago with Brela. The soil was damp and cool beneath his fingertips. The seed still shimmered faintly as he carefully laid it into its bed and covered it with a blanket of fresh, rich earth.

  The scent of the soil rose around him, earthy and clean. He could feel the seed below, could feel it settling, rooting itself, drawing strength from the ground. It pulsed with a soft life that brushed gently against his awareness.

  His hands traced across the freshly covered patch of wonder in his small garden, and he felt the gazes of the people gathering behind him. Their presence pressed lightly at his back, curious and cautious. They were likely drawn by the seed and its promise of future fruit, he imagined. Dio was there as well, a faint smile playing on his lips. Yet beneath it was worry, subtle but present.

  Why should he worry? Everything was good now. Finally. Everything Des wanted was around him, his deepest wish only a hand’s breadth beneath the soil.

  Once more, Des pictured the small golden sphere in his mind, felt it, imagined it rooting itself. Strong but slender threads of a plant began weaving through the soil in his thoughts, promising rich harvests in the days to come. He drew a deep breath. The scents of grass and sweet fruit filled his mind.

  With his eyes closed, Des’s thoughts swirled around his vision of the small growing seed. He pictured it anchoring itself in the ground with a delicate network of roots, then pushing a small green-shimmering stem upward. Tiny leaves unfurled in his mind, soft and full, catching invisible light.

  A murmur tore Des out of these wonderful thoughts.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  When he looked down again, he saw tiny iridescent leaves quickly sprouting from a small stem that had just broken through the soil. The sight made his head swim. A faint dizziness washed over him once more, although not as sharply as the day before. He rose slowly to his feet, his legs trembling under the strange weight of his accomplishment.

  "What was that... Des, did YOU do that?" said Andelion, who stood behind Dio.

  The older-looking woman with silver hair was not the only one staring.

  "Quite lovely, old friend!" Yorm added, clapping his hands together.

  A few others had begun whispering among themselves. Their expressions hovered between awe and uncertainty. Des sensed their desire, their hope.

  "Indeed! Astoundingly beautiful, is it not?" said a slender, very tall man with unhealthy yellow skin, dark hair, and a serpentine smile.

  At first Des could not remember him. The man’s presence felt slightly out of place, as though his shadow clung too tightly to him and cloaked things that should have been seen. Then recognition flickered through Des’s memory. He recalled that this man had visited the village once before not long ago, a merchant named Let, if he was not mistaken.

  The trader wore dark clothing of a type Des did not recognize, likely from a distant region of the Dream. A thin reddish scarf hung loosely around his long neck, shifting slightly in the morning breeze.

  "Yes, very beautiful. Let, is it not? Say, have you ever seen anything like this?" Dio chimed in, his eyes fixed on the merchant.

  "No, I have indeed never witnessed such a marvelous sapling born of Light. I once watched a traveling Sage who let a pulsing orb hover above his hand. I journeyed with him for a short while, although we parted after only two days. His Lucidity made traveling on a cloudy night a little easier. A generous man he was, although arrogant.

  "Let us not dwell on that, however. He brought forth nothing of substance, nothing like this. To encourage a plant to bloom so quickly and so wonderfully, what a peculiar ability. Are you exhausted?"

  Des did not like that Dio kept staring at Let, and he did not like the slight hollowness of the merchant’s big words, although he pushed the unease away quickly.

  "Only a little," he said, smiling carefully.

  The others had turned toward the merchant, who had tied his small cart and muldi to a nearby fence post. Some watched because merchants brought stories from afar, tales that stirred old memories and nudged new ones into being. Others watched because they longed for adventure and perhaps a reason to leave Daw behind. Only Avee and Lot had departed so far, although Des suspected more were considering it. And some watched simply because they did not trust strangers.

  Dio seemed to fall into all three categories at once, Des thought, and he smiled a little wider.

  "It is good that you are not exhausted, which means you did not use Lucidity too intensely. I have heard it can push someone deep inside themselves for days or longer. Yet even though it is a miracle to witness, this plant has not grown that much. I have heard of small miracles in various places just like this one ever since the Sun rose... Often, they shone too brightly, though..."

  "I would like to hear more about these things, Let. Would you like to come have a drink with me? Anything you want, I will vouch for you!" Dio suddenly interrupted.

  He smiled and pointed to the large wooden building that Golko and some of his friends had finished a few days earlier. Light spilled gently from its windows, where Wes and Reab prepared meals with a pride that still surprised him after all the Hundreds since they had rediscovered their love for cooking. The scent of warm bread and herbs drifted toward them.

  But Des knew Dio well enough to recognize a subtle artificiality beneath his friendliness. Dio was a good actor when necessary, even though it was almost never needed. He often masked his unrest among people with practiced ease.

  Des felt somewhat relieved to see him take the merchant away to question him further.

  Once they were out of earshot, Des stood up and looked again at the small shimmering plant he had brought into the world.

  He felt the villagers’ eyes still upon him and let the moment settle. The little plant was a vivid green sprout whose leaves reached upward as if drawn by the welcoming sky. It was more than a plant to him. It was hope. It was renewal. It was a quiet promise that made the air feel lighter.

  "Des, that looks so beautiful!" Andelion breathed, her voice full of sincere admiration. "And you look somehow younger. Your hair is almost black now. Your skin so soft... what happened to you?"

  Des shivered and rushed to a clay pot filled with water. He bent over it and stared at his reflection. A sharp gasp escaped him when he saw that Andelion had been right.

  He had changed.

  His beard was smooth and dark, his skin clean and free of wrinkles. Even his posture had shifted and grown straight. A quiet strength radiated through him. He looked as alive as he felt.

  Grateful for the change, he made his way toward the fields. The path was lined with wildflowers whose vibrant colors stood out against the muted tones of the village. He walked slowly, letting the peace of the surroundings seep into him. The flowers Brela had given each villager still thrived beside the huts, although some had been moved to make space.

  When he reached the fields, Des began working as always. He pulled weeds from among the young rye plants, each tug releasing the sharp, fresh scent of torn roots. The rhythm soothed him.

  Still, for the first time, he could not work for long. His thoughts drifted back to the little plant in his garden. He could still feel it, a faint humming in his awareness, as if the earth itself had wrapped a hand around its fragile stem.

  I need to see it once more.

  When he returned to the village, he saw Dio and Let already seated inside the new wooden building, talking in low, serious tones. People around them did not seem to notice. They laughed, ate, and drank, the atmosphere lighter than usual.

  Perhaps the sight of the miracle had softened them, Des thought.

  As he approached his hut, his gaze fell once more upon the small shimmering plant. It had grown again, its leaves a little broader, a little richer in color. He knelt beside it, feeling the warmth of its life rise through the soil. He brushed a thumb across one leaf and whispered a promise to care for it with all he had.

  The seed had given him more than a plant. It had given him something he had been searching for ever since awakening into the Dream. He had simply not recognized it before. Now he understood.

  And he suddenly knew he had to tell Brela. She would want to hear about it. She would cherish the change in him.

  Quickly, he hurried toward her door.