A Tree Without Roots Novels & Stories

The vulnerability, the hesitation—it was all there, and it made me want to protect him even more. “I… I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, finally lifting his gaze to meet mine. His eyes were wide, soft, and searching. “I… I didn’t know you felt like that.” “I never could tell you,” I said, running a hand through my hair in frustration. “I was too proud. Too stupid to admit it. And then, after high school… we just… drifted. And now, here we are, and I—” I paused, taking a deep breath. “I can’t imagine my life without you. Not now, not ever.”

That afternoon, they learned something unusual. A circle of stone benches sunk into a field of lavender-colored moss. In the center of the circle was a single white tree — no leaves, no bark, just gnarled branches like polished bone. Its roots twisted over fractured marble tiles, as though it had grown through history. At a first impulse Serena went towards him, impelled by some deep thing. Air rippled the moment her foot met the moss. A soft golden light started swirling up from the ground like drunken fireflies. The white tree throbbed, faintly — not with life but with presence. As if it were waiting for this moment.

"What’s your price?" "A lifetime of unassigned evenings," I said. "And the right to stay a Zero in your heart." I turned to look at the golden tree. It was being encased in a glass dome, its roots being tapped for the Reconstruction’s power grid. But at the very base of the trunk, hidden from the drones, a single green shoot was growing through the concrete—a plant that didn't follow the geometric patterns of the Assignment. I looked at the black envelope I still held in my hand. A new line of text was appearing beneath the gold script.

"They’re like pine trees that grow straight up. But our family isn’t a pine tree, my love." He sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "Then what are we?" I smiled, feeling my eyes water. "We’re a giant oak tree. Those ancient, enormous oaks that live for hundreds of years. Our branches go in every direction. They cross, they wrap around each other, and they grow upward and outward. Your mom, Sarah, is one of the strongest and deepest roots because she’s the one who gave you life. Your dad, Louis, is the main trunk, strong and steady, holding you up every day. Luka, Zion, and Elias are huge, protective branches that give shade when the sun is too strong and hold you when the win

Taking a deep breath, Zane began, "Phera, this tree... it's seen centuries. It's been through storms, endured harsh winters, yet it stands tall, its roots deep and unyielding. I want us to be like this tree—strong, resilient, and ever-growing. I know the mistakes we've made, the pain we've caused. But I also believe in the love that binds us, the roots that run deep. Give me, give us, a chance to nurture it back to life."

Beta Xander asked when he saw how I turned my head into every reaction and trying to find something. I looked at him. “ A tree that shall have no life will led you to the darkest witch who has ever lived,” I muttered the same quote that I have read into the map and looked around, once again. They brows are creased when they heard what they said but I guess, I had it right. I smiles and walked to my left as I saw the dying tree of an oak tree. It has no life meaning that the leaves of this tree are nowhere to be found. The branches are dried but it still remains standing.

Even though she wondered where the remaining tree was, she didn't dwell on it for long. Instead, she began to imagine the destruction of all the remaining five trees since one was dead already. When she felt like she would be able to destroy them all at once, she placed her palm on the root of the tree and kept on with her imagination until the tree in front of her was dead. Hoping that the mind connection she used had also destroyed the other four trees, she got up from the floor where she was and ran into the forest nearby.

So, it offered itself. It began to withdraw. Its immense, continent-spanning root system retracted, pulling back from the far reaches of the forest it had nurtured. Its leaves, each one a repository of a timeless, quiet tale, began to fall, not in autumn, but in a sudden, silent cascade. They did not rot. They dissolved into light. The tree was unmooring itself from the physical world, converting its immense, accumulated narrative mass into pure, stabilizing potential. The forest around it dimmed. The stream’s song grew faint. The scent of jasmine, which had perfumed the air for epochs, began to fade.

“Null coordinates?” “No,” Eli says. “Ours. Latitudes of the other Trees.” My blood goes cold. “There are no other Trees.” Eli looks at me. Young face, old eyes. “There were. Before the first root. The Tree cut them down to make itself the only one. It buried their seeds too.” The crown flares. Mine. Not possessive. Protective. Silas whimpers in his sleep. His hand twitches toward the floor, like he’s reaching down.

Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy above, casting enchanting dappled patterns on the forest floor. Cynthia couldn't help but admire the sheer grandeur of the trees. Their gnarled roots seemed to reach deep into the earth, drawing sustenance from the very core of the land. Each branch bore the marks of time, with leaves that rustled in the gentle breeze, creating a symphony of whispers that resonated with the wisdom of ages.