Searching For Sunlight
No good deed…
Wrenching back the thick lianas that ensnared the despairing tree, Elysia murmured the necessary words to help remove the woody vines. She would not allow the tree to succumb to the slow but steady threat of a treacherous plant that squeezed the life out of others for its own gains.
For as ancient and timeworn as it was, this particular tree held The Egg in its centre.
Elysia worked for hours, using her mind and body both to release the prisoner from its captor. Thousands of years old, it was a thing of wonder, and the vines had delighted in the expanse of the trunk to cling to.
In the evening, another of her kind appeared. His presence was an unspoken question.
“No,” She said. “I will see this through.”
It was only when the sky became dusted with the pinks and blues of early dawn that the tree breathed freely once more. Elysia had exhausted herself almost to the point of destruction, yet she did not care. The Egg would remain protected by its rightful guardian.
She ran a long finger over a large gnarl. She had not seen The Egg for three hundred years. She knew it was still there; she could feel the gentle warmth it emanated against her skin, even through layers and layers of bark.
She was spent, but the idea of seeing The Egg again had taken root. As the sun began to rise, the world above burnt orange and red, and Elysia closed her eyes and spoke what she needed to.
She let out a rush of breath.
No matter how many times she was blessed with seeing The Egg, its radiance was never diminished. It was exquisitely ethereal — the entire spectrum of green captured within its outer surface, threaded and flecked with luminescent white and gold. At its core, it glowed with life.
Transfixed, Elysia did not notice the missed tendril.
Sensing the plight of its kin, it had hidden out of sight and survived the massacre. Not quite as big or as thick as some of the others that had fallen, the liana had stayed low. Now, it glided purposefully along the bark onto bare skin.
Still, she gave it no heed.
It was only when the vine was firmly in place and devoting its energy to tightening, did she realise what had happened. Utterly spent, there was no strength behind the long fingers that clawed at the plant wrapped around her neck. Death had been close; now it was imminent.
As the sun reached its full height above the canopy of the forest, the liana relinquished its victim. Distressed and despairing once more, the great tree sought to draw the body of its rescuer into its own. The Egg retreated into its heart once more.
And the liana, free of rivals and adversaries, continued its slow, determined climb towards the light.
