Celestial Roots

Chapter 1 - The awakening

Verglosas was floating, alone in the vastness of space. Wrapped in a shroud of darkness, the planet was barely visible on the black canvas, sparsely dotted with the glitters of distant stars. The night had settled on its surface so long ago that it could have seemed eternal. The passage of time, the effects of which left no mark on the forests, mountains and plains trapped in the ice, had seemingly stopped.

Yet life went on. Very high, closer to the stars than to the earth, a flock of céouvauts hovered. The large birds stood still, taking advantage of the powerful currents of the thermosphere to let themselves be carried away without spending a single ounce of energy. Their eyelids, covered with tiny feathers, remained closed over their eyes. Even if the temperatures so high were mildersky than those on the ground, their eyes would have frozen had they opened them for a moment. Besides, they also didn't need to know in which direction they were going. Only survival counted.

In that fierce and silent battle that qualified life, every moment could be decisive. The misreading of an air current or an additional wing flapping to regain altitude were all it took to seal their fate. Despite their great resources, the majestic birds were weakening. They could feel it. Many of them had been forced to abandon the fight. After such a long struggle, getting caught up in death was like welcoming an old enemy who had become familiar. Their lean and dry bodies, emptied of their essence, would break on contact with the soil at the end of an endless fall. The thin grey feathers of the fallen céouvauts would be dispersed in a breath, doing little more than a whisper in the ambient immutability.

The same battle was fought in the forests and on the plains. The cervids were taking their pain in patience. They too were suffering from cold and hunger. They were tired of scratching the snow patches for lichen and shaved moss. Their extraordinary tenacity was diminishing. Many females battled in silence, watching over their offspring as they grew in their heavy bellies. The behaviour of deer and reindeer was guided by the mysterious orders nestled in the heart of their cells. Fortunately, the predators' sleep gave them a break.

As the majority of the animals were about to give up, exhausted, almost certain that they could no longer hold another step, a sign appeared. As quick as the blink of the eye, it could have gone unnoticed. For a brief moment, the highest mountain peak in Verglosas caught the light of the nearest star. Reflecting the sun's rays, the pointed summit began to shine with a thousand lights. The snow crystals that covered it turned into tiny diamonds of incomparable whiteness, projecting their brilliance into the distance, warning living beings that the hardest days were now behind them.

The Hir was coming to an end.

Even if the night quickly regained its rights, the darkness receded and lost ground. As the day progressed, the light that bathed the mountainside descended lower and lower towards the plains. Each in their own way, the animals had perceived the announcement. They rejoiced inwardly and continued their routine as the snow melted.

At the edge of the forest, when the high tops of the trees finally caressed the belly of a pale blue sky, the sap began to flow again. Hidden under the ground, the insects woke up in turn. The woods were gradually crossed by all kinds of different sounds that mixed with each other, replied in a shrieking hubbub. Throughout their extent, covering a large part of the northern hemisphere of Verglosas, the giant and ancestral trees began to vibrate with life. Among this effervescence that had spread throughout the animal kingdom, there was a very different sound.

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

It reverberated on large trunks, was lost or amplified depending on their spacing, size and density. It echoed from branch to branch. Its sound waves dissipated in some directions, were absorbed by a denser wedge of vegetation or converged where the flora was scarcer. When the noise reached the Great Plains, it was carried in the fresh air for long distances, far, far towards the south, where it was said that nothing lived. It simply slipped on the thick layer of ice that still covered the drupe grasses of the open country.