The night stretched on, cloaked in pitch-black darkness, rendering everything invisible. Yet the mountains were far from silent—ferocious roars of beasts rattled the peaks, shaking the earth and sending leaves cascading to the ground.
Ancient predators and primeval creatures prowled the valleys, their terrifying cries rising and falling in the dark, as if threatening to rip the heavens apart.
In the distance, a faint, gentle glow flickered among the mountains, a fragile candle flame trembling against the endless night, on the verge of being snuffed out.
Drawing closer, the source revealed itself: a massive, charred tree trunk, its diameter spanning over thirty feet. Only eight or nine meters of its stump remained, crowned by a single frail willow branch pulsing with life. The crystalline leaves, like polished jade, radiated a soft light that bathed an entire village below.
To be precise, this was a thunder-struck tree, ravaged years ago by a bolt from the heavens that obliterated its canopy and vibrant life. Now reduced to a towering stump, its lone willow branch shimmered like a silken thread of green, guarding the village and lending it an ethereal, mysterious air—a hidden sanctuary nestled within the Great Wasteland.
The village itself consisted of stone houses, serene and peaceful in the dead of night, as if shielded from the outer darkness and the howls beyond.
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A sudden gust of wind tore through the air, ushering in a colossal bank of clouds that swallowed the last traces of starlight. From within the clouds came a piercing shriek, sharp enough to split stone. Closer inspection revealed the mass was no storm but a monstrous bird, its wings blotting out the sky and moon, its size beyond measure.
As it soared over Stone Village, it peered down, its eyes glowing like twin blood moons, brimming with savage intent. It fixed its gaze on the old willow for a fleeting moment before veering off toward the deepest reaches of the mountains.
A long stretch of calm followed, lasting until the late hours when the ground began to quake. A vague silhouette emerged from the horizon, its height rivaling the peaks themselves.
Up close, it was a humanoid figure, towering and upright, its stature matching the mountains. Hairless, its body gleamed with golden scales that shimmered in the dark. Its featureless face bore a single vertical eye, flashing like a bolt of golden lightning with every blink, sharp and commanding. Its presence pulsed with an ocean of vitality, a being akin to a god or demon.
Pausing briefly, it glanced at the willow tree, lingering for a moment as if pressed for time. Then it strode onward, each step sending tremors through the peaks and shaking the earth beneath.
At dawn, a silver centipede—thirty feet long and thick as a barrel—slithered through the mountains. Its gleaming, segmented body, as if forged from molten silver, scraped against the rocks with a metallic clang, sparks flying in its wake. Yet it veered away from Stone Village, leaving it untouched. Black mist trailed behind it, driving every beast into retreat.
A single willow branch, aglow with a faint green shimmer, swayed gently in the breeze…
