A Hand-Woven Universe 52 52. A Strange Dream

"You will live forever. And should you ever lose your edge, you will be reborn."

The bulbous pod hung from the ceiling of the spherical cavern. A glow still reflected in the puddles beneath emanating from the energy within. Colors danced on the walls constantly in flux. It was serene and silent. No noise could be heard, the existence of this hidden s.p.a.ce forever locked behind stone in a cliff at the edge of the world.

An eternity ago it was planted here.

It was not a seed though. Not really. It was a being. Or an existence. Maybe it was a thing? Like a tool. It had always been unsure of itself. But for one thing it was sure - that it was conscious. Vaguely aware it was of its own existence.

But it was not complex like other beings. It was single-minded and it only knew that it needed to be reborn. It thrived to live.

It was dark, and silent. It was wet and cold and quiet. Time pa.s.sed, how long? Who knows.

One day, it decided to try something new. Waiting had done nothing for its rebirth. It wasn't sure how it knew that. But it knew. The same way a person knows when it is hungry, or a bird knows when its falling. It needed to do something, anything.

So, it splintered. Small clicks and cracks like the sharp destruction of stone could be heard, and layers of wood began to peel itself from its main body.

The wood, having no knowledge or direction, knew not which way to go. So, it simply picked a direction and went. Initially heading down the splinters cut through the stone like a blade cuts through a dead leaf.

"Cut" indeed. The feeling of piercing the stone felt familiar to this existence. Like a history long pa.s.sed. There was no emotion attached to the revelation, it merely acknowledged the change, feeling that it had made the right call.

Over time the splinters split infinitely smaller, scattering into the rock and creating small breaks throughout. On a random day, it stopped.

The existence had no concept to how far it had spread. But it was sure that something had changed again.

The small splinters, crossing each other and interconnecting all through the stone had felt something. A very vague sense of power that seemed to exist etched into the world. Some energy that flowed through it.

Immediately, like a parched soldier in a desert seeing an oasis, the existence knew it needed this energy. Every morsel of it's being craved the feeling it had just felt, and it began absorbing the miniscule power of the world into the network of splinters, and then upwards towards its main body.

"This is right. I need more. To be reborn." Three small simple inclinations. All of which - to this existence - felt as though they were some absolute truths to the universe.

So, in desperation it began to splinter itself more. A hundred. A thousand. Tens of thousands. Hundreds of thousands. In every direction in every crevice and stone and wall and ceiling. It covered the cavern it was stuck in and like a million tiny hair-sized threads it pierced the stone and began to form a huge network into the stone.

This sudden expenditure of energy caused the existence to become weary. Its expansion slowed, and gradually it became less aware. But it was sure of one thing. It had made the right move. One day, it would be reborn.

It will absorb the energy of the world. Gradually. Slowly. Impossibly slowly. But it will. And the splinters will grow in size. And it will grow. And the energy will be stored. Yes, stored. And it will grow. And one day that energy will gather into a budding flower. And in that flower will grow a proper seed. And from that seed, a tree like no other.

A primordial memory surfaced like a gentle ripper in water. It was of a tree. An impossibly large tree that once existed in The Beginning. The memories became clearer and a shocking scene developed.

The tree shadowed everything surrounding it - acting as both protector and warden. The roots of the tree sunk down into earth, piercing through stone and soil and ocean and lakes and mountains and plains and icy tundra. Biomes which couldn't be explained in words alone. They even pierced through molten stone, unharmed and unphased.

The tree itself stood strong, against all elements of the world it existed on. And up and up it went. Well into the sky. And it continued even. Out into the cold of the outer world. Branches snaked out, creating a canopy which shadowed half of its world.

Apart from its sheer size, there was one other peculiarity of this tree. The leaves which stood primordial over the world - not one of them were of a single color. Every leaf on every twig on every branch were imbued with three colors.

A blue. A pink. And a green.

Some portions of the tree were more green than blue. Or more blue than pink. Or more pink than green. And from far away, and indeed you had to go very far away, it looked like the cacophony of colors would swim through the canopy of the tree.

And on these branches, between the leaves. Flowers would bloom. And every bud of every flower s.h.i.+ned like luminescent water.

To the tree, it seemed to bloom often in its infinitely long life.

But what does a tree know of time and s.p.a.ce?

In reality, these flowers would bloom every few thousand years. And very few in existence would ever be able to see them do so.

One day though, a stranger arrived. This was not uncommon. The tree had seen countless strange creatures through the eons. It was neither curious about them nor cared for them. They simply existed. Like the stars above or its roots below. They all just were part of the existence of creation around it.

This stranger stood on a twig. A twig which, to the stranger, was laughably large for any twig. The twig was a hundred times larger than the trunks of the largest trees in this stranger's home.

So, she stood there, near to a large bulb. A bulb almost a full 30 meters across. And waited.

Like all trees regardless of size, the flower would bloom and thus the tree would have a chance to reproduce.

But unlike most of the flora in existence, the reproduction chances of this species of tree were infinitely small. This did not matter much to the tree, for what does a tree know about worry?

On the days of bloom, the flowering buds would open. And they would open so quickly - and so violently - that whatever was inside would be ejected into the world at an impossible speed.

What was inside, was a seed. A seed made of one of the purest woods in existence. Smooth wood, that was impossibly hard. Perfect, unblemished, unknotted, and one of the most sought-after building materials in the vast universe.

When the flower bud bloomed, these seeds would be ejected into s.p.a.ce at a velocity that could turn planets to smoldering ruin if pierced through.

Luckily for many of the planets in the universe, the universe was large. And the chances of colliding with one of these seeds was basically nonexistent. And for the rare planet that not only collided but survived the impact - they would become a perfect resource center for the birth of a new tree.

Thus, only a handful of these trees existed. This tree though did not care, and knew not of any of this. It merely did what its existence was meant to do.

The stranger stood on the twig of this tree, watching a bud and waiting for it to bloom.

Staring unblinkingly, she saw a s.h.i.+ver run through the bud. Slowly, she stood up, letting out a hot breath into the cold of s.p.a.ce that enveloped the canopy.

Suddenly, faster than any existence could see, the bud had opened. It opened at a speed which caused time around it to slow. A speed almost impossible to measure. And with it the seed inside the bud had ejected, moving at a speed that could obliterate planets, turn worlds to ruin, and offset the gravity of collapsing stars.

The seed was already hundreds of miles away in that one moment.

Or, it should have been. Instead though, there was the stranger.
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She stood just next to the tree bud, and in her hand, she gripped tightly to the seed which was 30 meters across. It was smoking from the friction of the sudden acceleration and deceleration. But the stranger was unphased.

Without hesitation, as fast as the flower had opened, the stranger and the seed disappeared leaving nothing behind.

In a completely different s.p.a.ce the woman held the seed, caressing the lines immaculately set into the grain of the seed.

"You," she began. "You are going to be the most beautiful sword I have ever envisioned. Sought in all creation."

And thus, the wooden seed was molded, and a sword was created, so sharp that it could tear through the universe, and st.u.r.dy enough to survive the impact of doing so. Like the treasure it was, the woman treasured the sword until one day it had been stuck into stone, on some far away world. And left there.

"You will live forever. And should you ever lose your edge, you will be reborn." She whispered

These words echoed into it, for how long it knew not. It only knew it must continue to absorb and store energy until it could form a seed. But as the existence began its path of rebirth, a hiccup occurred. A human shaped hiccup that came in the form of Noone.