Under Oak Tree Novels & Stories

she asked for the third time, curiosity evident on her face. “Be patient, my dear,” I replied with a smile. “Just a few more minutes.” “You know I'm not good at being patient.” “Oh, I'm well aware,” I laughed. “Remember when you were waiting for the results of the Elder Council's test? You paced for three hours.” “That's different!” she protested. “That was about our future as—” She stopped as we rounded the last bend and the view spread out before us. A small meadow surrounded by tall trees, with a small river flowing on one side. In the middle of the meadow stood a huge, ancient oak tree—its branches spread wide, creating a perfect natural canopy.

, he paused to take in the slaves awed expression and then he continued. " The Oak festival will be held at the Oak central, just metres away from The West Wing. Prepare yourselves for the weekend. As usual, the Oak will be filled with the royalties, the wealthy and the influential of Thores. Hail the Queen of The Oak!", he shouted the last sentence but their was only silence from us. My gaze met with Yun and he winked. But at that moment, he was the least of my problems. The festival was not a shock to me but I have not expected it to come so soon. My breath hitched as dread descended on me.

The path beneath their feet grew uneven, the forest growing thicker and more ancient as they walked, until they arrived at the base of the oldest oak tree in Valenwood. The massive oak towered above them, its gnarled branches stretching out like protective arms, creating a canopy that filtered the moonlight. Caius stopped beneath the tree, his shoulders tense as he exhaled a slow breath. Lira stood beside him, unsure of what to say, the weight of the prophecy hanging between them.

​The heavy rain from the night before had left the air crisp and smelling of damp earth and crushed pine needles. Seeking an escape from the suffocating tension inside my home, I walked briskly beyond the stone boundary walls of Oakhaven, making my way toward the old olive grove that overlooked the valley. ​The gnarled trees, centuries old, stood as silent guardians along the dirt trail. I pulled my woolen shawl tightly around my shoulders, my eyes scanning the quiet orchard until I spotted Mateo standing beneath the wide canopy of an ancient tree.

Otis’ POV: I was overwhelmed by the excitement as tears welled up in my eyes, I still couldn't believe what I was seeing. It was an oak tree with a striking resemblance to that of my grandma tree in the rogues Pack. I went over the size of the tree and touched it to ensure it wasn't just in my imagination, but I was right even the bark of the tree felt just like that of my grandma tree. I always go to her when I was at my lowest moment, and now she came to me when I needed her, for me this was a sign of good omen.

Rowan said, pointing through the trees. Kael rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. "We stay together." Nobody argued. We followed the sound. The forest changed as we walked. The pines gave way to older trees. Their branches spread so wide that the sunlight barely reached the ground. The air smelled of wildflowers. Then... I saw it. An oak tree. Its trunk split into two before reaching the branches. The same tree from my mother's drawing. "The orchard," Elias whispered. No one moved.

The oak was turning at the very tips—not dramatically, just the first indication of what was coming, the specific early signal of a tree that knew the season before the thermometer did. She looked at it for a long time. He found her there at nine. He sat beside her without asking. Of course. "September," she said. "Yes," he said. "The oak knows." He looked at the oak. The very tips of it, the first bronze. "It always does," he said. "Mr. Osei says it's the most reliable indicator in the garden. The oak knows a week before anything else." She held that. "What does it feel like?" she said. The season is turning. This year specifically."

She was smiling at him from the surface of the water. *“Don't just stand there, Rowan,”* her voice whispered in the wind. *“The world is waiting.”* Rowan looked up. A hundred miles away, in the center of the new world, a single, massive oak tree stood. It wasn't made of marble or silver. It was made of wood and leaf. And carved into the trunk, high enough for everyone to see, was a single word. **[START]** But as Rowan turned to join the others, he felt something cold in his pocket.

The accumulation of fifteen years of being together had made the arrangement more fully itself, not less. They stood under the oak. The June light came through the full canopy in the specific quality of the filtered summer light — green and warm and particular. The oak's trunk was wide — wider than Ernest could reach around, wider than two people could reach around together. The bark was rough, the texture of the old oak, the specific pattern of ridges and crevices that had formed over decades. The roots spread out from the base, some of them visible above the ground, the evidence of the tree's underground life.

ALORA POV The mountain forest did not feel like the woods around Oakridge. In Oakridge, the trees were soft, open, and welcoming, bathed in gentle sunlight that filtered through green birch leaves. Here, deep within Sector 4 of the Shadow Ridge, the ancient white pines rose like gargantuan obsidian pillars, their thick, tangled canopies weaving together to choke out the pale autumn sky. A cold, suffocating mist crept along the damp earth, swallowing our boots in swirls of ghost-white vapor.