The temple rises tall above the city, the moss and fungi that cover the ground soft underneath your booted feet as you take a shortcut through the field towards it. Had it been brighter, the sun would have been shining through the fractal solar stained glass that powered the half the city, making complex geometric patterns where you stand. Instead, it stands dark and formidable, the red streetlights lighting you from the back instead.
To one side of you stands the spirit forest. Trees, brought by seed from the old planet, span for kilometres, connected by native mushrooms that are in some cases as big as a small child. Their diet is nutrient-rich for certain- as well as the leaves and the uneaten fruit, they feed on your kin- you have been to many a burial here. Your family tree is an Alnus and you can catch a few of them, even in the dim light. You catch the Acacias too, and you stare at them for longer then necessary, a dread slowly seeping into your body. You shake it off. There’s a time and a place to think of those things.
You ring the doorbell to the advice chamber. The Elders hide inside. When they go out, they cannot show their faces.
Yes? Comes the voice from within.
I am wondering if you know where my friend is. Ehvay Acacia. They went missing last night.
Oh. Ehvay Acacia. A popular name in the whisperings of the planet these days. By whom were they last seen?
A tram driver. They said the earth was a-shaking and they heard a scream and then nothing.
Ah. They have been taken by The One Who Grieves, I believe. You must go to the highest point of the final spine mountain, where the worship is. You must await there at sunrise, and a tree will grow. Once you eat the apple on the tree, you will know what to do.It will not be an easy journey. You must cross the sea and you must walk many days and many nights. But it is the only way.
You nod reverently. Although it is long, you have made the pilgrimage to the worship before.
Thank you so much.