The Woods That Screamed

The trees that once whispered now scream out in pain. They have no mouths and shed no tears, yet they cry all the same. Their screaming is carried on the wind, forcing the villagers to listen to the shrieks of their beloved forest.

The villagers gathered on the edge of the woods, turning to their chief and priest in search of answers. They watched as their priest stepped forward to place her hand against the bark of one of the trees, her eyes closing as she listened to the whispering wood. Its words troubled her and she backed away fearfully at what she'd been told.

"There is a sickness," she told the village chief, "at the heart of the woods, where the Tree of Creation stands. The disease spreads like wildfire, searing the roots of our trees."

"How do we stop it?" the chief asked, his voice a low murmur so as not to upset the people around him. "We cannot let our trees die."

The priest shook her head, her knuckles turning white as she clutched tighter at her staff. "Even the trees do not know how to stop it. Their suffering prevents them from protecting us."

"Then we must protect them," the chief said. "I will send the best warriors into the heart of the forest. They will be able to find out what's wrong."

And so the chief sent the very best of the village deep into the woods where the screaming was the loudest. The warriors knew how to fight and use weapons, all had experience in battle so they had learned to fear nothing. But their trip through the forest taught them fear again.

It was a long and difficult trek for the village's warriors. They slipped between trunks and clambered over massive roots. The trees became older as they traveled deeper, their bark darkening and branches reaching further than those of the trees closer to the village. Despite their age, the trees were strong, even though they screamed in pain. They did their best to prevent their pain from being transferred to the younger, weaker trees and so they screamed all the louder.

The warriors could not help but weep at the pained screams of their beloved trees. This forest had protected their village for generations, keeping out greedy invaders and ravenous beasts alike. Each villager had chosen a tree for themselves, becoming united in mind and spirit. The trees taught their villagers the ways of the world and what it meant to stand firm when the wind was determined to tear out one's roots. Now more than ever, the forest needed their villagers, begging that their constant protection be returned.

"We won't let you die," one of the warriors whispered as she pressed her palm to the bark of a nearby tree. Its screaming was briefly calmed, lowering to a whine at her soothing touch. When she removed her hand, the screaming began once more.

"We're close!" a warrior exclaimed. He pointed forward to indicate the flickering glow of the Tree of Creation, which stood at the very heart of the forest. It was the largest of the forest's trees with golden leaves and silver bark. The villagers believed it was the origin point of life itself, sustaining the living things around it with its growth.

The warriors rushed forward, bounding over the living obstacles in their path. The screams were loudest here and the warriors worried that the Tree of Creation was in danger.

They burst into the clearing and were met with a sight that chilled their blood and broke their spirits.

The Tree of Creation was withered and drooping, its massive boughs dipping low as it struggled to produce the glow that had drawn the warriors closer. Its light flickered and its screams were the most shrill, caused by the suffocating grip and venomous fangs of the Sunken Serpent.

The Serpent had escaped from the roots of the Tree, having finally gnawed through the thick wood and slithered free. This was where the sickness had started and it had grown right beneath the noses of the villagers.

Lifting its head, the Sunken Serpent hissed at the fear-stricken warriors, its maw opening wide to reveal fangs taller than a man and dripping with black venom. The leader of the warriors turned to his comrades and shouted at them to run, only to be snatched up by the Serpent and swallowed without hesitation.

Everything that followed was but a blur to the lone warrior who managed to escape, her body shaking as she dodged between the trunks. She tried to block out the screaming trees and the vision of her fellow fighters being killed by the Serpent. Her sword had shattered against the snake's hardened scales, its skin having become stronger after drinking the Tree of Creation's life-giving sap.

She burst through the trees at the edge of the forest, collapsing at the feet of the village chief and priest. Her chief knelt to help her, hands reaching for her shuddering form, only to have the priest stop him. The priest gestured with her staff to the warrior's face where scales had begun to overtake her skin. Her eyes matched those of the Sunken Serpent, pupils now vertical slits.

"It's no use," the priest said fearfully. "The sickness has reached us. We stand no chance against the Sunken Serpent."

The trees that once whispered screamed ever louder as the Serpent's poison spread through their roots. The village that stood at the edge of the forest was driven mad with the screams as its inhabitants became one with the Sunken Serpent, the snake's influence spreading like venom through their brains.

The trees that once whispered now scream out in pain. Can you hear them?