Aaron found himself awakened by the sound of birds flying overhead. He came to with such vigor that he slammed the back of his against the tree he was taking shade beneath.
"Ngghh" he groaned in pain, rubbing his now sore spot.
He carefully stood up so as to not hit himself against any other hard objects. Back and arm muscles were stretched back to awareness and use, as Aaron reminded himself of the environment.
Trees, and their grassy carpet were all that could be seen with birds and other woodland critters making themselves known with calls and cries that bounced within the walls of the forest. Despite the supposed normalcy, Aaron felt particularly drawn in a certain direction. He did not know why, but he did start walking. As one foot fell before the other, he wondered not only why he was drawn this way, but what could possibly reside at his destination. Rumors had spread of witches that cast spells on unexpecting travellers, and Aaron began to think he may be walking into such an encounter. A group of bandits had also been supposedly lurking around in this part of the forest, this according to the conversation Aaron picked up on at a tavern the other night. But as Aaron came onto a clearing, he did not find a caster of spells or a pack of cutthroats. There on the clearing, was a tree.
At first Aaron felt relieved to come across such a mundane sight in comparison to his nightmare scenarios, but he realized the tree was anything but normal as he drew in for a closer lock. The tree was completely smooth for one, not a single crack or crevice could be found amongst any measure of its surface. Aaron took note of the fruit it bore, as it was unlike anything he had ever seen. The fruit was held by three stems connected to the bottom, forming an almost net to hold the fruit. It was of many colors and seemed to reflect the sun onto any who looked upon it. Even with all his might, and his knife, the fruit would not come off of the tree. Lastly, in the center of the tree, lay an inscription.
At first, Aaron didn't recognize the language, for it was neither the common tongue nor was it elvish. He hoped that it wasn't lizard speak, of the language of the half men, for he only knew elvish from his attempt to woo an elven barkeep at a tavern he used to frequent. Suddenly, Aaron rummaged through his bag, realizing what it was. The language was that of the race of old, an ancient and nearly forgotten people who left little. Aaron had been going through a sale at a bookstore, and was swindled into buying a book in a language he later learned no one spoke. But now it has finally proved its usefulness. Aaron's fingers slowly slid across the aged pages of the text, as he quietly murmured under his breath.
"...pure…heart…enter…give…your…heart."
Aaron, at first thinking it was talking about cutting out his own heart, grew anxious. Realizing that wouldn't be what he would do, he hoped that an alternative worked as well. Taking his knife, Aaron quickly sliced his knife across the tip of a finger. As blood began to bead, he pressed and then wiped it against the tree.
Almost instantly, Aaron's blood vanished from the tree's surface and an entrance began forming. The tree seemed to curl up within itself, like paper wreathed in fire. An entrance of seemingly endless void now appeared before Aaron.
Aaron, before even thinking, stepped into the void.