The Son of Man came down to kiss the olive tree. He removed the seed from the bottom of the cross and placed it in his pocket, leaving behind the little olive’s cross-shaped body.
Some days later, he journeyed to his castle in the clouds and summoned a warrior named Michael who wielded the mightiest sword in all the realms. The Son of Man gave Michael the seed of the little olive and sent him on a voyage to find a place where it could blossom again.
“Find a safe place for it,” the Son of Man said. “Ensure it basks in the Light, but water, it will not need. Instead, water will flow out from its roots. Plant the seed in healthy soil and the water of my love will come to the tree. From hence forth, it shall be known as the Mysteria Tree, for it will be a great mystery to the people, the way it waters the land.”
Michael boarded a ship captained by a stout man named Kristoff, and to the far edge of the sea they sailed. Days turned to nights as stars swept across the sky. After weeks of sailing, Kristoff and Michael finally took sight of land, a mountain island lying on the sea just beyond the blue mist. Michael knew this was where the Mysteria Tree would live.
Yet, he also knew the evil that never sleeps would seek to one day find and destroy it, so when he went ashore, he journeyed through the mouth of a cave below the mountain to hide the tree within. With a torch in hand, he came to the end of the cave and hit a rock face. Taking out his mighty sword, he began to strike it against the rocks. Little by little, he chipped away pieces of the mountain with powerful thrusts.
In time, he had hollowed out enough of the mountain. He took out all the stone and rock and dumped it in the sea and brought in soil from the island. Michael planted the seed in the soil in the hollow of the mountain. He then climbed to the top of the mountain and thrust his sword through the upper crust of the rock, sending cones of sunlight down into the giant cave and upon the soil. He did not search for ways to get water to the tree, for the Son of Man had assured him this was not necessary.
Only moments after the sunlight hit the soil, a little sapling began to rise. It grew fast, and in just a few days it was a healthy, fully grown tree. The olive rose from a deep slumber, pleased to find itself in the safe cocoon of the mountain. It glanced down to the roots sprawled out across the soil. Water began to run through the roots and fall off their tips. A small pool of crystal water gathered and eventually rose high enough that a river ran down one of the tunnels of the mountain. It burst into the outside air and fell over a cliff. The waterfall thundered down upon the land and formed a basin in the island where a gentle lake settled.
The tree thanked Michael for finding it such a safe place, but the great warrior replied, “It is you we must thank, for you made the Great Victory possible. The Son of Man wishes you to be known as the Mysteria Tree from hence forth, for you will be a great mystery to the people, the way your roots water the land.”
Michael came outside and swam back to Kristoff’s boat. “The tree is safe,” he told the ship captain. “But tell the Son of Man to bring the tree a guardian, for the shadows will soon come searching for it. I will remain here until then to stand watch.”
Kristoff did as he was told and sailed back across the sea. He relayed Michael’s message to a trusted angel of light who flew up toward the castle in the clouds. The Son of Man agreed the Mysteria Tree would need a guardian.
“And so he sent the angel of light to summon me,” Lady Mysteria said. “I was just a handmaiden living in another story at the time, a village girl of no importance. There were many others worthier than I in tales and fables all throughout the Realm of the Imagination. I was not fit for such an important duty. But the Son of Man regarded my lowliness and chose me. Though still unsure of my own strengths, I offered that it be done. Through the power of the Counselor, I was transformed from a handmaiden to a queen. He enveloped me in a cloud and brought me out of the story I had once called home and into your father’s, where I was given many knights and servants. Kristoff brought them to the island from many other stories and they began to construct my castle atop the mountain and the village in the plains. Though I am their queen, they only call me so because they intend to honor the true King who reigns from the High Throne, for it was he who bestowed my queenship upon me. I do not bask in the honor I am given by the inhabitants of this island. Rather, I place it at the service of the King and at the duty he has given me to protect the Mysteria Tree.”
Each of the children had gathered closely around her, rapt with attention at this wonderful tale she was telling, which was apparently buried deep in their father’s mind, though he didn’t know it yet.
“And our duty to guard the sacred tree brings us back to the oak tree from the garden,” she went on. “Just as in any other story, evil hates goodness, and it was only a matter of time before danger would grow near.”
The queen went on still more, telling the children of the envy that overpowered the oak tree, knowing that the little olive had entered into its glory. It hated the Mysteria Tree and yearned to destroy it. Sensing this hatred, the serpent from the Original Garden slithered to the base of the oak tree and up its trunk.
“Who is this that climbs into my branches?” asked the oak tree.
“It is I, the mighty serpent,” answered the green snake. “I have come to offer you a deal.”
“What is it you offer, mighty serpent?”
“I know of the envy you bear towards the Mysteria Tree. Give yourself to me and I shall make you powerful enough to destroy your enemy.”
The oak tree was very pleased to hear about this power that might be his. “I shall do whatever you ask, so long as you give me the power to destroy the tree that stole my glory.”
“Very well, then,” said the serpent, his forked-tongue sliding between his scaled lips. “Allow me to take your seed. Your body will die here, but I shall carry your seed to a place you may grow anew, stronger and taller than before and within reach of the tree you hate so dearly.”
The oak tree agreed and allowed the serpent to slither down its trunk and into the ground. He dug out the oak tree’s seed with his fangs and swallowed it, letting it fall down into his slimy belly. As the oak tree’s body crashed to the ground, the serpent fled from that garden of trees and raced across the land until he came to the sea. He dove into the waves and went deep into the ocean blue, swimming for many days and nights until he reached the island. His dark powers hid him from the watchful gaze of those who swore to guard the Mysteria Tree as he slithered ashore. He found a spot on the east side, many miles away from the queen’s mountain castle, and dug into the ground, vomiting up the oak tree’s seed.
The serpent waited until the spirit of the oak tree was born again into the First Root that emerged from the seed, naming him Radicle and nurturing him like he was the serpent’s child. When the serpent knew Radicle had grown strong enough to control the rest of the growing oak, he said to the First Root, “I must leave you now to attend to other battles, but stronger you shall grow. Remain patient. One day you will be powerful enough to thrust your brother roots out across the land and penetrate the mountain. Once there you will be able to strangle the small tree that robbed you of your glory.”
“Yes, Master,” Radicle answered.
The serpent snuck into the sea and swam off to cast more shadows upon the world and corrupt other stories. Then in time, the oak tree grew.
“Of course, at the time, we did not know what was festering on the other side of the island,” the queen said, looking out over the balcony. “I sent my knights out to search for danger on many occasions, but Radicle was hidden beneath the land and the oak tree was disguised as any other tree. Evil plays such games, mimicking what is just and good while hiding what is sinister beyond our gaze. It was only when the oak began to rise above the forest that I knew something was wrong. No natural tree would grow to such a size. When my knights went to investigate it, they found that Radicle had hatched his acorns into wicked demons who lived in the tree and served him. They battled
my knights and pushed my forces back.
“I sent other patrols to combat this great evil beyond the forest, but each attempt was met with failure. The tree was able to grow in strength, becoming what we know it as today—the Shadow Tree—behind the protection of Radicle’s Shadow Army. But while his army is powerful, it is the Shadow Tree’s roots that pose the biggest risk to the Mysteria Tree. These sinister roots stretch beneath the island more and more each day, always in search of the little olive that stole its glory.
“In recent days, the roots have burst forth from the ground just down there in the village,” the queen said, pointing past the lake. “Bands of the Shadow Army come up with the roots, riding them beneath the land and using the tunnels they create as passageways to emerge on the surface and terrorize my people. My knights have fended off several attacks, but many perished in battle. Radicle has been attempting to weaken my defenses so that the Mysteria Tree will be left more vulnerable. It is only a matter of time before he launches his final assault. His roots will soon be strong enough to reach all the way into the mountain and with them he will bring his entire army.”
“This is all so horrible!” Lucy said.
“I’m sorry this is happening to you and your people,” Connor said. “But this is just a story, right? It’s…pretend…at least where we come from. I don’t understand what this has to do with us. Why are we here? Why did you ask this Counselor to bring us into this world…into all this trouble?”
The queen turned and looked solemnly at the children. “You have not yet learned all you must come to know. I still must explain the bond our two realms share, and how what you see looming on the horizon could one day find its way into your world.”
11
A DANGEROUS MISSION
Lucy was surprised when the queen paused in their very long and deep conversation and asked her to walk to the edge of the balcony. The queen put out her hand and the little girl took it. Together, they walked over to a large, unlit lantern. The lantern hung at the top of a wooden pole rising about ten feet above the balcony.
Once there, the queen motioned for one of her knights who had been standing guard beside the balcony door. He disappeared inside and just seconds later emerged with a torch, which he came and handed to the queen.
“If you would, little one,” said the queen, holding out the torch, “take this and light the lantern.”
The knight removed the pole from the guardrail and lowered it before Lucy.
“Why do you want me to do it?” Lucy asked.
“I will tell you shortly. For now, please trust me.”
Lucy did as she was told, taking the torch and opening the back pane of the lantern. She held the flame over the lantern’s wick until it caught.
“Thank you, dear child,” said the queen.
Lucy smiled as the knight placed the pole back into its holster and took the torch inside. The orange glow of the lantern was soft and pretty, warming their eyes through the darkness that had fallen over the land. It was difficult to see the island now—the village, the lake, the forest, and the Shadow Tree—but they could still hear the rushing sound of the waterfall far below them.
Anastasia had walked out quietly behind them without anyone noticing. She informed the queen that dinner was served. The children were glad to hear it, for they were very hungry. They walked back into the throne room and across it to an adjoining dining hall. The girls marveled at this new room. The walls were painted a golden yellow with faded designs, carvings, and exquisite artwork on them, and fancy chandeliers hung from the ceiling above a long, mahogany table.
Connor, meanwhile, was more interested in what sat upon this table. Much to his delight, it was filled with all sorts of wonderful food: fresh fruit and cheese, bread and crackers, meats and seafood, baked potatoes, the greenest vegetables they had ever seen, and a wide spread of mouthwatering desserts, including brownies, cookies, and colorful candy.
A group of servants stood behind the chairs, waiting for the queen and the children to sit down. When they approached, the servants pulled out the chairs. The children had never been waited on like this and it felt very strange, but they sat down to avoid being rude.
Once the queen finished saying a most beautiful blessing, the servants prepared plates for the children, taking orders for what they wanted. A minute later, Connor, Maggie, and Lucy had very full plates of food which they planned to stuff into their very empty bellies.
When the servants finally left, Connor asked the queen a question that had been on his mind for the last hour.
“Earlier you mentioned something about our training…”
“That’s right,” she answered. “You will be training with Sir George tomorrow. He is my Master Swordsman and the general and trainer of all my knights.”
“Training for what?” he asked.
The queen wiped at her mouth with a napkin. “Yes, it is time we return to what we were talking about outside. I do apologize for sweeping you up into this by summoning you here, but I had no choice. Your father is in grave danger.”
“Dad? In danger?” Maggie said. “How? Because of the Shadow Tree?”
“Though our worlds are far apart, children, they are eternally linked. Actions in your world flow perpetually into this one as the storytellers of earth tell their tales. These stories may seem like pretend where you come from, but here, they are a reality, oftentimes a horribly reality, as you have seen with your own eyes when you gazed across the island.”
“But our dad is not here,” Maggie said. “I don’t understand why this story puts him in danger.”
“He is in danger because it is his story, and because there is a dark magic that uses humanity’s stories as a way to infiltrate your world. Your kind does not realize that if evil is victorious here in this realm, it gains the ability to manifest itself back in your world.”
“Wait…” Connor said, “what do you mean? Bad guys can…come alive…in our world just because they win in this one?”
“Precisely. The Counselor helps the storytellers of earth tell their stories, filling them with a part of himself. He is the goodness that enriches the stories you so love. But the human imagination is plagued by darkness, and so your stories are also filled with evil. The Counselor can help combat this darkness but he cannot defeat it entirely on his own, not because he lacks the power—his power is vastly greater than that of any shadows—but because such a victory must come about in harmony with the storyteller. It is not a true victory unless the storyteller rises up and gains the strength to fight.
“The Counselor does everything he can to ensure humanity’s stories have a happy ending, but if the storyteller cannot do his own part and evil rules the day, darkness will consume the imagination of the storyteller who hatched it. He will begin to lose control of his own story, and eventually he will be consumed. Then, the evil will spread to others. Much of the evil you see in your world is because the evil that lives here finds a way through. When the storyteller fails to combat the enemy, the Counselor must, in accord with the old laws, withdraw himself from the story. With the void left behind, evil powers then have the ability to use the very same moon magic once used for good to seep into your world.”
“Are you saying that horrible tree over there is about to come into our world and take hold of our dad?” Maggie asked.
“In a sense, yes, but it will not present itself in the same physical form—you will not see a giant tree growing inside your house—it will be an invisible force that consumes him. Evil in other realms can be physically seen, but in your world, this is not always so.”
“No!” Lucy yelled. “Nothing’s going to happen to my daddy! I don’t believe it!”
“In your heart, you know this to be true already. Have you not seen signs that your father is in danger?”
The children wanted to say they had seen no such signs, but Connor realized they had.
“Dad’s headaches,” he said.
“Those are just regu
lar headaches,” Maggie reasoned.
“He gets them whenever he tries to do fun stuff with us,” Connor said, not so much replying to his sister as thinking out loud. “Whenever he plays with us, or tells us a story, or…,” he paused and looked to the queen, “whenever he uses his imagination, that’s when the pain is the worst.”
Maggie and Lucy knew he was right. They recalled times from the last few months when Daddy would get down on the floor to play with them, or romp through the backyard running from pretend bad guys, or even when they were working on the island (though that was many months ago), and his head would start to hurt. He’d have to stop playing and go lie down. Yet even if all that was true, it was difficult to believe the Shadow Tree was the source of his pain.
After a moment to let everything sink in, the queen said, “If Radicle is able to thrust the sinister roots across the island and take hold of the Mysteria Tree—the force of goodness in this story—then he will have control of the story. Radicle will then have the ability to use the moon magic to enter your world and take control of your father and his imagination, and eventually others. If I could do something to prevent this, I would. But I am helpless at this point. Only you can defeat this great evil and save your father.”
“You’re telling us you have all these knights at your disposal,” Connor said, “but we’re the only ones who can destroy that thing across the island?”
“Yeah,” Lucy agreed. “Can’t you and your knights do the fighting?”
“We can partake in the battle in many ways, but not in the way your father needs. When a darkness here is on the verge of leaping into your world, it is only something from your world who can stop it. In fact, it is only the firstborn of the storyteller who can defeat the darkness. I called upon the power of the Counselor to bring you here because Connor must be the one to save your father. He must be the one to defeat Radicle.”
The Island of Two Trees Page 6