Under The Oak Tree Novel Patreon Novels & Stories

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.

Golden wheat plants danced in the wind as the sun inched towards the horizon in the distance, plunging the entire world into a gentle, golden hour. In the distance, there was a little hilltop on the side, with a single oak tree in the middle. My dad once told me that the tree was so precious to the farmer who owned the wheat field that he didn’t cut it down, even when his humble farm grew and made him a millionaire. Beneath that oak tree, there was a figure. Something told me to go to them, and I followed. As I grew closer, climbing up the hilltop, the figure grew clearer and clearer.

Iditan added. Still captivated by the unusual soft countenance on Iditan’s face, I reclined back against the Oak tree which seemed not to posses the hardness of a normal tree, waiting for her to tell the story. The trunk of the tree was soft and comfortable, adding to the serenity. “Iditan…” I called softly as she took her time, curiosity to know more about this protector Oak tree which could seemingly make one at ease and free of worries getting the best of me.

“So~ Like the king?” He nodded but didn’t elaborate further, “This tree,” He pointed at the Oak tree behind me, “Acts as a portal between the human world and ours. The Dryad spirit resides in it.” He glanced back at me as he brought his hand down, “But it’s strange, I haven’t heard of it ever allowing humans to pass through.” He looked at me, “Although it has helped people in need.” He stared at me for a second and I felt sort of giddy, “Were you perhaps in trouble?”

Its sweeping branches stretched for the sky as if asking Lucian and Ravena to uncover the truth concealed inside its enchanted depths. Lucian and Ravena found themselves beneath the gnarled limbs of an oak tree one starry evening, propelled by their ravenous curiosity. As they anticipated a meeting with a mysterious man said to hold ancient wisdom, the air was electric with expectation. The quiet was broken by the subtle rustling of leaves, and a person emerged from the shadows. It was an ancient woman, her eyes glittering with wisdom gained over decades. As she greeted Lucian and Ravena, her voice was a lovely symphony.

Betsy asked, applying some sweet-smelling ointment on Emberlynn's skin. "I'm fine, and what's that oil?" she asked, watching as the brunette brought out variety from the chest while Betsy massaged her skin. "It's the Oakheart Elixir, and it's to ensure fertility, longevity, and many more beautiful things. But that's the most essential. It's a natural oil that's extracted from the acorns of the oak tree, particularly from the ancient oak grove deep within the sacred forest. Yes, the oak tree is a sacred forest, and we werewolves' lives are tied to it; that's why it surrounds us." she explained.

“I saw her. Mara. Under the Old Oak. She said the Council’s coming tomorrow with silver chains to auction me. She said to come tonight, to the Old Oak, alone. That it’ll hide me.” My mother’s face crumpled. She sank into a chair. “She said that? The Old Oak? God. She told me about that tree when I was little. Said no man could enter its circle. Said if a White ever needed to hide from her own mate, the Oak would hide her.”

MAXINE We made our way to the old oak tree near the lake. The moon was hanging low in the sky. It cast a pale glow on the water. I could see the massive oak tree in the distance, its branches twisting like fingers. This was where it was all going to end. We reached the base of the tree. The ground beneath our feet is uneven and covered in fallen leaves. Mr. Grayson pulled out the scroll from the small box containing the last piece. He brought the other pieces from his bag one after the other.

About the oak tree in August and the specific quality of the afternoon light coming through the full canopy and the way it falls on the sidewalk below in broken pieces, all warmth and abundance, the tree is at its most generous, giving everything it has. I pick up my charcoal from the cup on the counter. Open my sketchbook. Draw while he talks. The oak tree in August afternoon light, seen through Edmund's eyes on a porch in the Tremé, was rendered in my hand in a penthouse in Manhattan. Three times removed from the original. Still true. We tell our fathers on the same day, not together, but separately. But the same day, which feels right, both of them learn on the same Thursday that somethin

“I need to tell you why Oakleigh did what she did today.” Carrington lets me explain about Oakleigh and I watch his entire demeanor change. “Oak knew the signs all too well. She has lived through her father's descent into drug addiction and her mother going along with him. She has spent a fortune trying to get them clean and this was the longest they had been sober yet - a whole six months. Oak got them a house and even gifted her father one of those PTSD dogs. She doesn’t look down on anyone, instead she admires those who were willing to risk their mental health for someone else. This kind of self-sacrifice was something she has seen too many times and she is inspired by anyone who was will