The massive tree looming over Raymond trembled—every branch, every leaf, shaking like it had caught a chill.
The leaf-creatures that had surrounded him, the ones with tiny limbs singing their eerie nursery rhyme, began to stagger away. They wobbled on their little feet like drunks, still holding hands, retreating slowly to the base of the trunk. There they piled up in silence, stacked motionless, their song finally dead.
Raymond stood frozen for what felt like forever. His muscles screamed from holding the same position too long.
Finally, the face on the trunk blinked open its ancient eyes. A sound emerged—something between a sigh and a burp.
"Been a long time since I last ate magic stone," it rumbled, almost to itself. "So long I'd forgotten the taste."
Raymond's gaze dropped to the items spilled on the grass. Three black stones remained. The branch had taken the smallest one.
He stretched his cramped legs, testing them. Then, carefully, he asked: "That stone—after covering your losses, is there anything left over?"
Surprise flickered across the wooden face. Then something like embarrassment.
"It was... delicious," the tree admitted slowly. "If you agree... give me another magic stone, and I'll give you a fruit in exchange."
Raymond studied the ancient face, looking for lies, for tricks. The tree just watched him back with those deep, patient eyes.
He nodded slowly.
Kneeling, he gathered the remaining items back into his pack—bottles, jars, the two black stones. He swung the pack onto his shoulders and straightened up, waiting.
A branch descended from the canopy. Near its tip, several thin shoots had twisted together, forming a kind of cage. Inside, something small and red darted back and forth, throwing itself against the green bars, desperate to escape.
The branch lowered the cage to Raymond's eye level. Through the gaps, he could see the fruit inside—thumb-sized, fiery red. It hurled itself at the bars again and again, frantic.
The tree's voice rumbled one last time: "As extra compensation, I'll watch over you here for three days..."
But before it could finish, the red fruit let out a wail.
"Grandpa! Grandpa! Don't abandon me! Don't! I don't want to be eaten!"
The ancient face ignored the screams. It simply sank back into the trunk, fading until nothing remained but rough bark.
The branch cage opened.
Raymond found himself staring at a fruit with a human child's face. Plump red cheeks. Small red lips. Dark, liquid eyes. Chubby little arms and legs, like a baby's, pale and soft.
When it saw him, its face went white—literally white, pale patches spreading across its red skin. It scrambled up the branch tip, tiny hands and feet finding impossible holds, and peered down at the drop. A meter, maybe less. Its child-face twisted in terror.
Then it closed its eyes and jumped.
Raymond's hand shot out and caught it.
The screaming started immediately. High-pitched. Desperate. The little fruit face contorted, and from its eyes came something like tears—pinkish liquid, pale and translucent, hot against Raymond's palm.
It thrashed in his grip, tiny limbs flailing, trying to escape. Raymond closed his fingers around it, trapping it.
"Grandpa! Grandpa! You're mean... you're mean..."
The tiny voice, muffled now by his palm, still cut through him. The feel of it—soft, warm, squirming—made his skin crawl. But he forced himself to focus.
"Scan," he commanded silently.
"Task initiated. Beginning analysis..."
Data streamed across his vision. The pink tears, the chip reported, contained high concentrations of nutrients. Beneficial compounds. Good for the body.
The thing in his hand kept crying. Kept pleading in that small, childish voice.
Raymond's throat went dry. He raised his hand to his mouth.
The crying grew louder. More desperate. More human.
He closed his eyes and shoved the fruit into his mouth.
The sensation was instant—and horrible. Tiny limbs against his tongue. Movement. Squirming. The thing was still alive in there, still struggling, and its screams now came from inside his head, muffled by his cheeks, by his teeth—
He bit down.
A single sharp shriek—Wah!—cut off mid-cry.
Then silence.
Except for the taste. Sweetness flooded his mouth, rich and aromatic. Thick juice slid down his throat, warm and soothing. His whole body relaxed. Pleasure washed through him, head to toe, like nothing he'd ever felt.
He opened his eyes, licked the juice from his palm, and found himself wanting more.
"Large amount of beneficial energy detected entering the body," the chip reported. "Analyze?"
A warm glow spread through his chest and stomach. He felt light-headed, almost drunk. He sank to the ground, sitting heavily, and mentally agreed.
"Task initiated. Beginning analysis..."
Heat built inside him. The breeze that had felt cool before now seemed to scorch his skin. Something crawled through his veins—ants, maybe, or fire, or both. It itched. Burned. Scratched from the inside.
He clawed at his arms, his chest, leaving red marks on his skin. The pack on his back grew hot—impossibly hot, like a stone fresh from a fire.
Gasping, he dragged the pack around to his front. Through the fabric, a pale white light pulsed.
He stared at it, mind struggling to keep up. One thing after another. Too fast. Too strange.
"Host genes undergoing modification. Cell activity increased by eighty percent. Cell strength increased by fifty percent. Projected lifespan extended."
The chip's report cut through the fog. Raymond blinked at the glowing pack, then back at his own hands. The itching was fading now, the heat subsiding.
"Fruit analysis complete. Contains high concentrations of active compounds. Modifies host genes. Accelerates cell division. Strengthens cellular activity. Passively enhances host resistance. Please name."
"Red fruit," Raymond muttered, the first word that came to mind.
The warmth in his body continued to fade, leaving behind a pleasant afterglow. But the pack still glowed.
He opened it carefully. Everything inside looked normal—bottles, jars, stones. Except one thing.
The book.
It was made of thick parchment—or something like parchment—bound in dark leather. Gumede had given it to him without explanation, and Raymond had never been able to open it. The pages seemed glued together, sealed by some invisible force.
Now it pulsed with soft white light. And when the breeze touched it, the pages... shifted. Just slightly. Like they might come loose.
He reached out, slowly, letting the chip record everything. His fingers touched the cover. Still warm. Hot, even.
And on the cover, where before there had been nothing—
Words appeared. Strange symbols, raised like embossed carvings, forming characters he couldn't read.
The chip screamed:
"WARNING! WARNING! Unknown intensity energy field detected. Immediate evacuation to distance exceeding fifty meters required!"