We stood at the base of the Starmoss tree, looking out at the rest of the jungle, and saw fire.

Crimson flames burned the trees in the Sanctum miles away, and the smoke that was produced had begun to flow upwards, past the canopy, and into the sky. The call of birds, the cries of small mammals, and the pounding steps of larger creatures, all running, seemed to echo through all of the gathered trolls' ears. I could only imagine how many of them had suffered so far, having their own homes destroyed, and how they themselves were probably ripped apart by those insects. I didn’t know what was worse, meeting my end by being destroyed by the insects or the crimson fire. I instinctively leaned toward the fire due to the idea of being burned alive, but the destruction mana that was more pure within the insects was what gave me more worry.

Luckily, there had been countless preparations for escape for the various creatures we kept within our walls, ranging from trained routes to underground bunkers. We could only hope they worked and that they were able to escape before the insects or flames took them.

Standing beside my friends, we watched as the shimmering blue barriers of water mana connected to form a giant dome around the center square. The giant mahogany trees that were carved with countless runes, larger symbols representing protection surrounded by smaller supplementary ones, were all glowing with environmental mana. Like a conductor, my Grandfather was still sitting at the top of the tree, weaving hundreds of threads of mana all at once that were directed to the different functions the runes held. However, no good conductor was without his orchestra, and in this case, they were 5 elders, evenly spaced, helping maintain the defenses.

Closest to us was Elder Gardaga, otherwise known as the Earthseer, one of the oldest trolls of the village, head of the ranger division, and tasked with protecting the Sanctum from outside threats. His form was tall, over 7’5, and was built like a boulder with stone-sized muscles across his body. His deep green skin was decorated with countless scars of various sizes, earned through countless battles and through shielding those in need of protection. He had fresh injuries also; what looked like serrated bite marks were scattered across his arms and stomach, alongside miniature gashes around his neck and throat. They were severe enough that he would normally be heavily bleeding, but the environmental mana slowly stitched together his wounds and stopped the blood flow. I had never seen him bleed this much, as he primarily focused on making his body as tough as possible, imbuing it with so much earth mana that you would believe he ate a small mountain.

His bushy, white beard was stained with blood that dripped from his mouth, and his normally combed, tied-back hair was matted with dirt and gore. A grimace of pain and anguish was clearly across his face, not for himself, but for the Sanctum and those who were suffering. It was his job to protect the village from outside threats, and it was clear he blamed himself for failing. His long tusks bore carvings of the entire layout of the Sanctum, including the surrounding land, all meticulously detailed. He was currently supporting the flow of earth-aligned mana into the trees and the barrier, strengthening the defenses.

To the left and the right of him, a few hundred feet away, were Civa and Vica's parents, Elders Aari and Wolara Flowdonna.

Both wore flowing silk robes, Elder Aari in white and Elder Wolaras in aqua, both in the same simple yet elegant design as their daughters' robes. They both had dark green skin and tattoos, with Aari showcasing white jasmine flowers flowing in the gentle breeze, and Wolara’s jade vines hanging over a flowing stream. Their tusks, which I couldn’t see from this angle but had seen before, held countless rare plants, creatures, and objects, with Aari’s being related to the wind and Wolaras to the water. Both of their long black hair flowed down to their backs and moved gently with their movements as they danced to manipulate the environmental mana supplied to them.

Elder Aari was responsible for manipulating the flow of the smoke from the raging, crimson fires, making sure it didn’t get close enough to harm anyone. There were also countless streams of air swirling around him that were sent out into the Sanctum by themselves, and I could see a few groups and stragglers from the village being brought to safety by those same wisps of air. As he danced, I could see his milky white eyes swirl with wind mana, seeing the flow others couldn’t. Civa had told me before that he had never had good vision, barely able to see most of his life, and after a long time of contemplation, he developed the ability to sense the wind, with the condition that he could only see it, not anything else, which strengthened the ability.

Elder Wolara was ensuring the environmental mana of the barriers was converted into water mana, thereby providing greater protection against the crimson flames. She also manipulated large, underground stores of water into vast swathes of mist that flew into the village and helped hold back the fire. Her light blue eyes reflected the water barrier, and as she danced, she looked back at Civa and Vica, smiling at them before continuing on.

Furthest away, at the other side of the tree, were the last two elders maintaining the barrier.

One of them was a wizened, very short, 4'11 " old troll with bright green skin and graying hair, with a bald spot on top, who was currently chanting while using his worldspeech.

“Eht, tu, time, tan, et, light, er, un…”

His tusks glowed with the countless carved runes that shifted around or grew brighter as he said certain words, all of which connected with the various runic-carved trees, empowering them. It was said that over 90% of all the runes inside the Mossy Sanctum were of his creation and had the special property to degrade extremely slowly, barely having changed over the last hundred years. He held a giant book in his hands, which also strengthened this effect as the mana swirled from his tusks and mouth to the book, and then to the trees. This was Elder Dabasco, the very rarely seen Treekeeper and maintainer of the Mossy Sanctum.

The other elder was very different from the others, as she was made of gray bark instead of skin and had moss instead of hair growing from her head. Her robes were made of countless leaves, starting from rich greens at the top to decaying browns at the bottom. She was of average height, but held a staff almost double her own that was made from a gray branch of the Starmoss tree that had moss across it, and at its top held a perfectly round orange gem. This was Rootkeeper Illvana, the protector of the Starmoss tree, the master of rituals, and the keeper of countless traditions in the Sanctum.

She had built her own body in the image of the Starmoss tree and had a great connection to it, currently assisting in funneling the mana in the area into the tree. She was deep in concentration at this time, holding both her bark-covered hands together around her staff as she was speaking to the tree, with an unknown purpose.

Beyond all of this, however, the reason Dima had brought all of us out of the nook was the vast swarm of crimson insects that had begun to appear over the horizon. The morning sky, already darkened by the smog, grew even darker as tens of thousands, or even hundreds of thousands, of bugs drew closer. The crowd around the tree shifted backward in response, no words coming to any of their mouths as the horror of the sight took that all away.

I could see that Ordo was standing still as he looked out at the incoming swarm, a silent fear in his eyes, but a hope that burned just as bright that everything would be ok. Dima was very worried, his hands clenched at his sides, as Diphus, his bonded, was wrapped around his neck for comfort. Vica had a blank look in her eyes that usually would indicate dissociation, but I could tell this time she was completely in the moment, seeing the movement of mana in ways the rest of us couldn’t. Civa, who was standing to my right, was staring outward with her mouth open and arms trembling at her side.

“Do what you can or do nothing at all, little Root.”

With my Grandfather’s previous words echoing in my mind, I took one of her hands into mine and wrapped my fingers around hers, using my thumb to rub against it to comfort her. She looked at me, anxiety and fear across her face, and I gave her a smile. She smiled back, and I gestured to the others. I reached out my own hand to Dima, who was to my left, placing my hand on his shoulder and Diphus’s tail, while Civa reached out and took hold of Vica’s hand. Both looked at us in surprise, but smiled as they saw what we were doing, and Dima continued the comfort by reaching out a hand to Ordo, who smiled at the rest of us and took it, patting it. We all smiled, understanding that Ordo had always been very optimistic and wasn’t as worried as the rest of us, now trying to give us more comfort than take any for himself. Nodding to each other, we looked outside the barrier, better comforted as we faced the incoming storm.

In the distance, the endless flood of crimson bugs was occasionally broken up by what looked like flashes of red thunder, which was simply the destruction mana charging up within their bodies. That destructive light and the crimson flames illuminated the ground, and in the distance, I could see what looked to be a large mudslide that was barreling its way to the barrier.

My eyes lit up as I realized it was my father heading back, and given the size of the mudslide, he probably had others with him. At the speed he was going, it would only take 30 seconds for him to reach the barrier, and the elders could clearly see that too, as they started to try to make it easier for him.

Elder Gardaga pushed himself as he channeled more mana than he naturally could into the barrier, boosting its defenses to insane heights that caused the wounds on his body to burst open with the strain. Elders Aair and Wolara combined their powers by using high-speed winds to push vast amounts of dense mist into the area closest to my father, clearing the path of any flames and stalling the bugs. Both Elder Dabasco and Illvana used the natural environment to assist, with the former forcing the runes in the area to go past their limits, burning them out to boost their capabilities, and the latter using the gigantic roots of the Starmoss tree to form an additional barricade inside the barrier.

Though I couldn’t see my grandfather, the streams of mana coming from the top of the tree suddenly surged. A quarter of them were heading to my father and into the ground, where thousands of roots began to shoot up and swat away incoming bugs. The remaining mana swirled around the center of the protective area as I felt a sudden lightness in me as a titanic surge of power erupted outwards, shifting the color of the environment from green to a deep purple.

As I looked at the purple mana, a sudden memory shot through my head, almost unnaturally, of an amethyst gem earring my Grandfather wore. If I looked at it in a certain light, it had always felt like I was looking at somewhere far away, not a singular place, but countless ones that shifted every few seconds. The headache that I hadn’t realized I previously had suddenly surged as a sense of wrongness entered my mind as my thoughts continued onward, even though I didn’t want it to.

I had a similar sensation. to when I went through the mana ravaging, but to a lesser degree, while my memories rolled through like a book being flipped to previous pages. The purple mana around me reminded me of something I had read about in some stories. The extremely rare affinity that I now knew my grandfather had - space.

In the next moment, the sense of wrongness grew, and while I tried to stop myself from thinking, I couldn’t. All of my thoughts connected, and it led to one conclusion.

My grandfather was planning to teleport the Starmoss tree and the village away.

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