The prayer hall erupted into pandemonium the instant Aiden's mana flow completed its miracle.
Where a single glowing seed had rested in his palm moments ago now stood a towering, living tree—permanent, unyielding, rooted deep into the white marble floor. Cracks spiderwebbed outward from its base like lightning frozen in stone, yet the tree itself radiated serene power. Its trunk was thick. Blossoms opened in impossible fractal patterns—each petal a different hue, layered in hypnotic symmetry—yet the entire structure pulsed with unbreakable stability, as though it had always belonged there, as though the hall had been built around it centuries ago.
It did not shrink. It did not fade. It simply was.
The commoners reacted first—pushing forward in a stunned, reverent wave.
A freckled boy dropped to his knees at the base, reaching out with trembling fingers to brush the bark. "It's… real," he whispered, voice cracking. "It's still here. It's not disappearing."
