The Silver Tree (Spirit Animals Fanfiction)

Chapter 1

 Conor was standing in the magical garden surrounding the Evertree. The gentle breeze ruffled his hair and made the plants sway. Up above, the clouds were milk white and birds were coasting on the wind. Everything seemed normal and yet Conor knew he was dreaming.

He started walking towards the Evertree, which was obviously the focus of the dream. It stood right in the middle of the garden like all the flowers had been created around it. Which they probably had.

About a mile in diameter, the Evertree was a majestic sight, and even though Conor had seen it several times, it still took his breath away. Its silver trunk reached up for ages before finally breaking into long, strong branches with delicate, golden leaves at the tips. The tallest branches were so high they touched the lazy clouds passing by and sent a constant sprinkle of rain down to the roots. As Conor walked closer he could faintly hear a soft melody floating down from the top of the tree, probably caused by the leaves blowing in the peaceful breeze.

Once Conor reached the trunk of the Evertree he started walking around it, his hand gently sliding across the shiny bark. He wondered what the point of this dream was. Of course it seemed like a lovely, ordinary dream, but Conor could tell this was not one of those. Since becoming a Greencloak, his dreams were very rarely just dreams. Although there had been that one dream where Meilin turned into a walrus and Rollan screamed and wet his pants. Conor doubted that was a prophetic dream, but he could never be completely sure.

Just then, Conor caught a glimpse of something white in the corner of his eye. Strange that in the middle of all these vibrant colours there could be a shade so plain. He went over to investigate and found that a single, swan white rose was growing near the base of the Evertree. Conor had spent most of his childhood outside in the forests of Eura, the region where roses originated from, and yet he had never seen one this colour before. Intrigued, he bent over to get a better look and reached out his hand to touch one of the petals, but as soon as he got close enough to feel the rose, he pricked his finger on one of the thorns. Startled, he jumped back from the flower and examined his finger. A small drop of blood was starting to form... And he could feel it! Normally in dreams, Conor couldn't feel pain, but somehow this one was different. It didn't hurt very much, but it did sting.

Conor didn't have a lot of time to think about it though, because the second he cut his finger, the rose had started to grow. It slithered up the trunk of the Evertree like a skinny garden snake. Out of the side of the vine, more white roses started to form and snake their way all around the trunk. They kept on growing and multiplying until they reached the tips of the leaves and the entire Evertree was covered.

And then, before Conor's bewildered eyes, a black mist began to emanate from the Evertree. Thick as fog, the mist began to shroud the tree from Conor's vision so he had to squint to see. Just as the last branches of the tree were blocked from his view, the mist started to fade and after a few seconds he could see that the roses were absorbing it. For a second, he was relieved, but then he noticed the roses were changing from an innocent swan white to a harsh grey and finally a night black. But the roses weren't the only things changing. Up in the sky, the fluffy clouds had turned black as well, and rumbled with thunder. All the flowers around the Evertree had started withering and dying as if hit by a sudden wave of bitter frost. Even the birds that had been cooing earlier were squawking loud enough to give Conor a headache.

But the real problem was still the Evertree. It was as if the roses were absorbing the life right out of it. The once mighty tree started to look old and in danger of collapsing. Its beautiful leaves had fallen to the ground and disintegrated, and its smaller branches were starting to break off entirely. It took Conor a moment to realized it was dying. The Evertree was dying. With a sickening feeling, he was reminded of the Wyrm, the creature that had nearly killed the Evertree a few months ago.

As if it could read Conor's thoughts, the dream shifted and he could feel himself under the Wyrm's control once more. He was in the massive cave system underneath Erdas, staring at the revolting, pulsing black blob that had complete control over his body. Even though it was a dream, Conor still felt like a stranger in his own body. He walked toward the Wyrm against his will and, to Conor's disgust, reached out a hand and touched it. His hand sank right into the Wyrm's gooey interior and Conor had to resist the urge to vomit. But since he had no control over his body, it probably wouldn't have made a difference anyway. The rest of his body soon followed his hands, entering the interior of the Wyrm and all Conor could see was black. A darkness that seemed to go on for miles surrounded him. And then he was falling. Falling into eternal black.

And just like that, Conor was awake.

He lay there for a few seconds just listening to his breathing then decided he should probably tell someone about his strange dream. Which meant getting up. As he stood up, with some difficulty, he realized he'd been lying on the floor and the sheets on his bed had gotten all tangled. He'd probably been thrashing in his sleep. Rubbing his tired eyes, Conor staggered out of his room, still shaken by his dream. He had never been very good at telling time, but he guessed it was probably the middle of the night since everybody was in their rooms. His exhausted brain hadn't really been thinking about it, but somehow he'd ended up at the entrance to Olvan's room. Forgetting that Olvan was probably sound asleep, Conor knocked on the door. Silence. He knocked again, louder, and this time he heard movement.

A very tired and annoyed looking Olvan opened the door a few seconds later. After seeing that it was Conor he tried to mask the annoyance, but even in the dark Conor could tell that it was still there.

"What seems to be the problem, Conor?" he asked in his signature gentle but stern voice.

"I had a dream," Conor explained, but out loud it sounded like a pretty lame excuse for waking Olvan up. "I think it's important."

"Can it wait until the morning?" Olvan questioned with a hint of defeat in his voice as though he already knew the answer was going to be no.

"I don't think so," Conor replied.

"Alright," Olvan sighed as though finally accepting he wasn't going to sleep. "You better come in."

Conor hated making Olvan upset, but the leader of the Greencloaks really needed to hear about this dream right now. A few months ago Olvan would have let Conor in without a second thought, anything to help them win the war against the Conquerors or defeat the Wyrm, but times had been peaceful for six months now and all the Greencloaks had become pretty laid back.

Olvan opened the door to his room and Conor came in and sat down on Olvan's bed. His room wasn't anything special, in fact it was pretty much the same as Conor's. Olvan sat down beside him on his bed and yawned.

"So," he said. "Where does this dream start?"

Conor started from the beginning with the peaceful scene and the Evertree. He talked about the roses and the weird black mist, the Wyrm and the weird end to the dream. The whole time Olvan stayed completely silent, his expression unreadable in the dark.

"The Wyrm is dead," he stated after a long pause.

"I know but-" Conor started, but Olvan cut him off.

"Conor," Olvan's stare seemed to see right through him. "I know that you're distressed, but there's no need to worry. The Wyrm is dead."

The heavy words seemed to hang in the air for ages before Olvan cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Off to bed now, Conor. We can talk about this more in the morning."

And with that, Conor left Olvan's room and stumbled back to his own, lost in thought. Without fixing his messy sheets, he flopped down on his bed. He tried a few times to get to sleep, but no matter how hard he tried, he always found himself wide awake, staring at the cut on his finger.