Under The Oak Tree Novel Forum Novels & Stories

Ayla and Rhobart ate in silence while they listened to the women talking or watched couples dancing. Minutes before midnight Rhobart stood and looked at Ayla, “We should go see the winter oak tree. You will love it.” Ayla looked at her mother, and Queen Lavia nodded. Rhobart grabbed Ayla by her hand, and together with Kerra, they made their way to where the old winter oak tree was. “Rho,” Ayla said when they stopped close to the tree. “Why are we looking at an old tree?” Rhobart chuckled. “You will see when it is midnight. I am sure you are going to love it.”

“It’s not possible,” Mac said quietly, standing at the edge of Hope’s garden, looking at the small oak sapling with its cluster of pale, impossible blossoms. “Oaks don’t flower in October. They barely flower at all in the traditional sense. Something else must be growing through it.”

The dying oak meant something. “Should we tell Jax?” Sarah asked downstairs. “We should mind our business,” I said. She shook her head. “It’s our duty.” She was right. But I already knew how it would end. Jax would never believe us. I returned to the temple at sunset. The oak tree stood in the courtyard, barely alive. I pressed my hand to the bark. “What are you trying to tell me?” It didn’t answer. But I understood. Something was coming. And I was running out of time to stop it.

I flipped through the pages, scanning the hand-drawn illustrations of the massive white tree that sat at the heart of our grounds. "Listen to this," I murmured, reading the text aloud in a dry andcynical tone. "'The Great Arbor stands as a testament to the peace brokered between the three founding factions. Its leaves reflect the purity of the academy’s mission, and its roots run deep into the earth, binding all supernatural entities to a single, harmonious code.'" Avelora let out a bitter, mocking laugh, her head tilting back slightly. "Harmonious code? Is that what they call the massacre in the arena? Or the fact that a rogue wolf tried to rip my throat out yesterday because I crossed avb

It's been dormant for so long that I don't even know if it matters to do something, talk less of knowing what to do about it. I opened my eyes and found him watching me. “Let me tell you a story. There was once a young sapling, named Willow.” He said. “The young sapling, Willow, swayed mournfully in the wind. Her leaves, once vibrant green, were now tattered and brown. 'Why me?' she cried to the wise old Oak who stood sentinel over the forest. 'Why did the storm break my branches?' “And The Oak said, his roots deep in the earth, rumbled with a gentle laugh. 'Willow, the storm did not break you. It tested you.'

“When she gave you the ability to hide your scent, where did you go to ask her for help?” The woman glanced at Oliver, who looked as equally as baffled as she was. “That old oak tree.” She pointed to a large majestic tree, that sat directly at the edge of the clearing, we walked over to it and noticed a pattern carved deeply into the bark… “it’s the lunar cycle.” “The Luna oak!” Oliver quickly dropped to his knees in front of the tree out of respect. “I’ve only ever seen pictures… It’s said that the original lycans planted it, in respect of the goddess herself.” It was the perfect place for me to attempt to make contact again.

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.

We sat beneath an enormous oak near the edge of the training field. Orion stared up at it. “What?” “Trees in your world are strange.” I looked at the oak. “That’s a normal tree.” “Exactly.” “What do your trees look like?” “Some move.” “Move how?” “Walk.” I blinked. “Your trees walk?” “Some.” “Why?” “Why don’t yours?” I opened my mouth. Closed it. “Okay. Fair.” He smiled. It was the first time I’d seen him smile without my father immediately interrupting.

Those woods became our kingdom. I remember the day Ava decided to teach me how to climb the old oak tree that stood in the center of our usual meeting spot. It was massive, its trunk so wide it would take three of us holding hands to circle it. The bark was rough and gray, covered in places with soft green moss that felt like velvet under our fingers.

Nobody, not even Anton or Beta Randall, can tell me to not enter. I find the plants quickly enough; over the last few years they’ve spread out deeper into the woods. I head to the usual spot, the large oak tree where Mum used to read to me on hot summer’s days still growing with momentum. It’s acting as a reminder that nature continues even when you lose the ones you love. Seasons still come and go…years still pass.