Blog Post 12: The Alchemy of Secrets
Title: “The Roots That Hold Us”
The storm passed, leaving the land soaked and battered. Ivy Mae’s small house stood stubborn against the aftermath—wooden walls creaking as if relieved the worst had moved on. Outside, the wind had settled, but the silence it left felt heavy, like something waiting.
Roman was the first to step onto the porch. He scanned the edge of the woods where water pooled in the hollows. “The creek’s overflown,” he muttered. “We’re lucky the house didn’t flood.”
Jas stood at the door, the rescued dog pressed against their leg. Its gaze followed Roman, ears flicking at every sound.
“We need to check the tree,” Jas said suddenly, their voice firm.
Roman paused, turning back. “What tree?”
“You know which one,” Ivy Mae said softly, appearing behind them. She rested a hand on Jas’s shoulder. “The one in the woods.”
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The three of them trudged through the mud, boots sticking in the earth as they moved toward the edge of the property. The storm had stripped the forest bare—branches torn down, small streams snaking through the roots. But the tree stood untouched, as if the chaos had skirted around it.
It wasn’t like the others. Massive and ancient, its trunk was wider than the three of them standing side by side. Deep grooves twisted into its bark, forming patterns that Ivy Mae swore looked different every time she saw them.
“Feels older than it should,” Roman said, his voice uneasy. He knelt, brushing his fingers over the exposed roots. The wood was warm, almost humming beneath his touch. “This tree’s alive in a way it shouldn’t be.”
Jas stared up at its branches, still full despite the storm. “It’s like it doesn’t belong here.”
Ivy Mae nodded. “Because it doesn’t.”
Roman glanced at her sharply. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen it before,” Ivy Mae said, her voice distant. “In dreams. Always after something bad happens. That tree… it’s watching us.”
The wind shifted, and the dog let out a low growl, stepping closer to Jas. Its fur bristled as if it, too, sensed something wrong.
Jas placed a hand on its back, whispering softly. Then they turned to Ivy Mae. “Do you think it’s connected to the light? And the… sound?”
Ivy Mae didn’t answer immediately. She reached out, pressing her palm against the bark. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The grooves in the tree seemed to pulse faintly, like veins under skin.
“It’s older than anything here,” she murmured. “And it’s waking up.”
Roman frowned, stepping back. “Waking up?”
Before Ivy Mae could explain, Jas pointed toward the base of the trunk. “Look.”
In the mud surrounding the tree, the patterns had deepened—circles within circles, perfectly symmetrical and etched into the earth. But now, something new had appeared. A single line, cutting through the circles and pointing toward the house.
“It wasn’t like that before,” Ivy Mae said quietly.
Jas crouched, tracing the line with a stick. “It’s pointing at us.”
Roman exhaled sharply, wiping a hand across his face. “I don’t like this. We’re messing with something we don’t understand.”
Ivy Mae turned back to the tree, her voice firm. “It understands us, though. That’s the problem.”
The dog barked suddenly, its growl deep and sharp. Roman whipped around, flashlight beam slicing through the shadows. “What is it?”
Jas tightened their grip on the dog’s collar, their heart hammering. “We need to go back to the house. Now.”
Ivy Mae hesitated, glancing once more at the tree. “It’s not done with us,” she whispered.
Roman grabbed her arm. “Whatever it is, it can wait until daylight. Let’s go.”
As they turned back toward the house, the air behind them grew heavy—thick with the feeling of being watched. Jas couldn’t help but glance over their shoulder. For just a second, they thought they saw something move along the bark—like the grooves themselves were shifting, reaching.
But when they looked again, the tree stood still. Silent. Waiting.