Finn stepped out of his hut into the nocturnal silence of the settlement. The streets looked strange at this hour — not a single window glowed with light, as if every inhabitant had sunk into a deep, dreamless sleep. The silence was peculiar, not dead but somehow alive, as though the settlement itself was holding its breath.
Walking slowly past the houses, the boy noticed for the first time their uncanny sameness. Each hut was an exact copy of the next, carved from living wood according to a single design. Identical windows, identical doors, even the patterns on the walls repeated with startling precision.
At the center of the settlement, his attention was caught by an unusual fountain. Defying the laws of nature, its waters surged upward, forming a shimmering column that glittered in the light of the crystals above. Stepping closer, Finn saw ancient carvings etched into its base.
The images were nearly worn away by time, leaving only ghostly outlines. They showed elves bowing in reverence before a strange figure. It resembled a human, yet something about its form was different, greater, as though the artist had tried to capture a divine essence.
Finn recalled Adam's stories about their creator. The elf had said that this being had given them life, though he himself no longer remembered those days — and no written record of it remained. Or had such records been deliberately erased?
Tearing his gaze away from the faded drawings, Finn made his way toward the trunk of the great tree. With each step, he felt a strange vibration rising from the ground beneath him. It was like the beating of a vast heart, and most unsettling of all — its rhythm matched perfectly with his own.
The closer he came, the stronger the vibrations grew. They traveled through the soles of his feet, resonated in his chest, as if the tree were trying to synchronize its pulse with his. Or perhaps it was his heart that was yielding to the rhythm of the tree?
The night air shimmered faintly with light. It came from the tree's bark, pulsing in time with the vibrations. Finn had never noticed it before — perhaps it could only be seen in complete darkness, or perhaps only at certain moments.
Standing before the trunk, he was struck again by its sheer enormity. It seemed the entire elven settlement could fit within its colossal girth. The bark stretched upward endlessly, vanishing into the shadows of the cavern ceiling.
Moved by an inexplicable impulse, Finn reached out and touched the bark. Instantly, he felt the tree's pulse align with his own heartbeat. But then something wholly unexpected happened — the bark beneath his palm softened, became pliant, and his hand began to sink into the trunk itself.
His first instinct was to pull away, but his hand seemed fused to the tree. The harder he struggled, the deeper it drew him in, until his arm was engulfed to the shoulder. Panic surged through him, yet with it came another sensation — the tree's heartbeat grew clearer, louder, until it was indistinguishable from his own.
This baffled Finn. He knew the life force of the tree spread throughout the settlement, illuminating it like a sun. But this… this was something else. A second heart, hidden deep within the trunk. And why did it beat in perfect unison with his?
The thought that he might truly be connected to the tree — an idea that had seemed like idle speculation before — now took on tangible form. Before he could reflect further, he felt his hand touch something within the trunk: warm, pulsing, like the very core of its power.
When his forearm was fully immersed in this strange heart, the tree's grip abruptly released him. Finn staggered back, yanking his arm free. He frantically examined it, expecting burns or wounds, but what he found instead was astonishing.
Around his wrist lay a bracelet, as though carved directly from the tree's wood. At its center glimmered a crystal, pulsing in flawless harmony with his heartbeat. The bracelet fit perfectly, as if it were part of his body, radiating a gentle warmth.
Finn stared in awe at the tree's gift. The crystal's glow shifted in subtle hues with every beat of his heart, casting delicate patterns of light across his skin. He had never seen anything like it in the settlement.
Suddenly he realized the vibrations from the tree had changed. Now they resonated with the crystal on his wrist, forging an invisible bond between him and the tree. Finn could feel that bond deepening with every beat of his heart.
Overwhelmed by a mixture of wonder and unease, he decided to return to his hut. The path back seemed shorter now, as if the tree itself guided his steps through the silent village.
Inside, he settled into a corner of the room where his bed touched the wall — a spot that always gave him a sense of safety. Taking the oil lamp that lit the chamber and shared its warmth, he pressed it lightly against his chest, as if to hold on to a fragment of comfort.
At last, weariness overcame him, and Finn drifted into deep sleep. The crystal on his wrist continued to pulse softly in time with his heart, yet it shed no light into the room.