The Singing Trees Novels & Stories

Paitelia glided toward one of the ancient trees, its boughs like sleeping giants against the twilight sky. She laid a delicate hand upon its bark, and a soft, emerald light bled from her palm, tracing glowing veins across the wood. She began to sing in the elven tongue, her voice not a whisper, but a song that was both prayer and command, a melody the wind seemed to reverence rather than steal. Before us, the very fabric of the tree warped and groaned, the bark peeling back to reveal not raw wood, but a perfect, shimmering archway of woven light.

The whispers of the trees carried information and intelligence, serving as a source of direction and solidarity. In any case, it wasn't long some time recently the noxious nearness of the Shadow of Friction plummeted upon the antiquated trees, endeavoring to disjoin their association with the tenants. The Treefolk stood unflinching, their voices joining in a capable, concordant chant that reverberated through the endless timberland. "We cannot let this haziness disjoin our association with the heart of our domain," one of the Treefolk said, their voice unflinching as they channeled their vitality into the antiquated trees.

Isolde, her senses heightened, added, "And it’s not just the song. There's an energy, a force that's beckoning us." As they ventured deeper into the forest, the melody grew stronger, its haunting beauty making their journey feel both surreal and predestined. Emerging into the ancient grove, they were met with a sight that left them in awe. At the center stood an ancient, towering tree, its roots and branches intricately intertwined, glowing with a soft luminescence. Embedded within its trunk was a crystalline structure, radiating melodies. Elysia, her voice filled with wonder, observed, "It's a living archive! Each branch, each leaf, represents a different reality, a different echo."

The lights, thought Hayden. The floating yellow lights from his dream were ahead of them darting through the trees, seemingly guiding them forwards. Hayden heard the booming of many deep voices laced in with the shrieking of higher ones. The trees were chanting, "Closer, closer." Hayden asked Titan if he heard them, the chanting trees, and saw the blinking lights but Titan turned a concerned gaze upon Hayden. Titan was not hearing or seeing any of this.

She says rushing into the tent. When she comes out with the bag, I snatch it and run into the nearest part of the forest. "Just stay right outside the trees, I promise not to go far." I shout as I walk. I walk the few feet into the tree line. I can hear as she starts to sing a song in the distance. I chuckle at the rule we came up with on our first trip into the wilderness. We learned that singing is an effective way to drown out the sound of someone doing their business which is already embarrassing when you are used to indoor plumbing.

“I’m not really used to all of this negative attention.” Krist slowly nodded and looked around in hopes to see a space where it wasn’t occupied by people. And after taking a few more steps, he found some trees and bushes surrounding one area to the left of them. It must be part of the hiking trail, he thought. And immediately, he grabbed onto Singto’s arms and pulled him into the pile of bushes and positioned their bodies so that the three could shield the two. “What are you doing?” Surprised by the suddent movement, Singto asked to Krist.

“It did need a sacred place.” He presses a kiss just below my ear—reverent, final. “Sacred doesn’t always mean silent,” he murmurs. “Sometimes it just means true.” The glow around the tree fades to a low shimmer. Crickets start their patient song again. Somewhere behind us the others are waiting, their heartbeats faint but familiar through the new bond. Elias takes my hand. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s go back before they go crazy .” I glance once more at the Mother Tree. Her branches shift in the breeze like a woman turning in her sleep, dreaming of better worlds.

​ I blinked. ​ And blinked again. ​ Floating archipelagos hung in the sky like broken continents, tethered by nothing but shimmering threads of light. Rivers poured upward from unseen sources, silver ribbons twisting into the clouds before vanishing into mist. Below, far below, cascading oceans defied gravity entirely, falling in slow, impossible spirals toward a horizon that curved the wrong way. And the forests… God, the forests. Crystal trees rose in impossible geometries, branches chiming softly against each other, a melody that wasn’t wind or instrument but something older. Singing. They were singing.

By the time they reached the last house, even the most optimistic of the group, such as Cindy and Pastor Phil, looked relieved to be nearly done, thoughts of warming their feet by the fire dancing in their eyes. “Let’s sing, ‘O, Christmas Tree,’” Cindy said, forcing a smile. “This will be our last song.” “You singing?” Dak asked, close to her ear. “No.” “Come on, Mem. Last chance.” “I... can’t.” “You can. You choose not to.”

] [I wish you and Sophia happiness. [This is goodbye. Let's never meet again.]