Under The Oak Tree Read Online Novels & Stories

The time I was wasting. Evans was still out there. I straightened and stepped over the unconscious outlaws, looking around. I noticed it then. A tree. In the center of the clearing, there was a single, enormous oak. The wood underneath was scarred with something that made my stomach turn, and its bark was split. Blood. Not merely splashed. Not merely smeared. **Sculpted.** Three sharp, deep phrases that seemed to have been sunk like inhuman claws into the wood.

asked Hayden, no longer feigning disinterest. "Of course, it could, but it won’t. Knowledge is a powerful and therefore dangerous thing. The tree will not help to further corrupt the already corrupted. It will not let its knowledge be used to crush kingdoms, outwit foes or garner fame. The Omniscient Oak is fed by the waters of the River of Jaded Wanderers. The river is similar to the Faded Dreams' River but unlike the Forest of Faded Dreams it does not accept all requests. Drinking the Jaded Wanderers' Water does nothing. The tree acts like a judge of sorts, answering few questions but giving much clearer and more detailed answers than the Faded Dreams' Water.

“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 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.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN The oak tree was huge and from where Lucas stood, its shape reminded him of a piece of broccoli. The great trunk was thick and gnarled, the leaves spreading like a vast canopy of deep jade. This magnificent symbol of nature sat alone in a green field, an azure, cloudless sky as a backdrop. Lucas ambled up the hill. There was no such thing as urgency in a place such as this. His heart maintained the sense of peace he had carried since . . .

Most striking is the tree's response—its leaves shiver and rustle though no wind stirs them, branches bending subtly toward Maris as if straining to hear her better. I pause at the clearing's edge, unsure whether to interrupt what appears to be a private communion. But as I watch, thin tendrils of golden energy flow from the tree into Maris's palms, spiraling up her arms like living vines before disappearing beneath her skin. The sight is both beautiful and unsettling. Before I can retreat, Maris speaks without turning. "The oak remembers when this land was ocean floor." Her voice carries easily across the clearing. "Its roots touch water that hasn't seen sunlight in ten thousand years."

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 am the same old me". Linking her arm in mine, we walked down the hallway. Then, finally, it was time for the ritual. The air was cool in Briarwood as we made our way to the sacred Oak Tree. Millions of stars were sprinkled over the black velvet sky, some large but most tiny pinpricks. The moon loomed largely, full and yellow, glowing, lighting the way for the wolves who gathered beneath it—their howls echoing through the night.

- 24 - Out in the woods, deep in the forest, where the trees get so dense that the undergrowth has never been touched by the rays of the sun, there, beneath the roots of an ancient oak tree, lies a mound covered by a thick layer of dried leaves. Hidden among the ancient roots is a small opening. At first glance, one might think it’s just a small burrow, a lair where bears spend their winter, but looks can be deceiving, particularly when enchantment is at work.

One family. Titan howled at the moon, signaling the start of our run. And soon, twigs and dry leaves snapped as paws thudded loudly against the ground as we all sprang forward, letting ourselves be one with the earth as we made our first run under the moonlight — as a family.