The Seeds of Light

The Seeds of Light

Long ago, before steel ruled the earth and cities choked the skies, there was a land cloaked in lush green and kissed by golden sunlight. It was a world untouched by human greed—a place called **Zarava**. In Zarava, life blossomed not just in form, but in purpose. Every leaf, every stream, every creature had a role in keeping the land in harmony.

At the heart of Zarava stood the **Elaran Tree**, a colossal being said to be the breath of the earth itself. Its roots were older than memory, its branches stretched like arms across the heavens. The Elaran bore no ordinary fruit—it bore the **Fruits of Light**, each one humming with power. These fruits were sentient, keepers of ancient knowledge and warriors of healing.

But peace never lasts forever.

One day, from the Hollow Beyond—a pit where forgotten things festered—a darkness slithered forth. It was called **Morras**, a creeping shadow that devoured light and whispered doubt into hearts. Unlike a beast of fangs or flame, Morras attacked from within, sowing decay at a cellular level. Wherever it touched, life withered not in days but in years—slowly, quietly, fatally.

The Elaran Tree, sensing the sickness spreading, summoned the **Ten**—its greatest children—fruits born to heal, to protect, to fight. Each one carried in its flesh a secret force, a natural weapon against decay. But they were young and untested.

Their guide was **Elyra**, the Spirit of the Tree, who appeared as a woman made of bark and blossom. “The world needs you,” she said, voice like wind in the grass. “Morras cannot be killed by blade or fire. It must be met with resistance from within—purity against poison.”

And so began their journey.

The first to step forward was a small, deep-blue figure cloaked in velvet shadows. His name was **Kael**, quiet but observant. “I see the rot,” he murmured, pressing fingers to the sickened earth. “It oxidizes. It feeds on confusion.” From his skin came a violet mist, rich with power that glimmered like starlight. Kael carried anthocyanins—compounds of protection—and wherever he walked, color returned to the world.

Next came **Sira**, a bright-eyed wanderer with hair like wild strawberries and a scent of spring. She danced more than walked, but when she paused, her touch burned clean through the darkness. “Ellagic acid,” she said with a grin. “It doesn’t stand a chance.”

**Rohm**, a warrior of fire, arrived not long after—his body a garnet shell filled with glowing seeds. He rarely spoke, but when he did, his voice echoed like war drums. “Punicalagin,” he muttered, his hands spilling crimson light. “Let the plague face fury.”

From the highlands came **Yara**, wrapped in indigo silk, her eyes shimmering with galaxies. She brought silence and strength—the silent defender. “My energy runs deeper than time,” she said. “Let me anchor us.” Her name was whispered even by the winds: **Açaí**.

**Vinna**, the gentle soul, arrived on a chariot of vines. She hummed tunes that made flowers bloom and wept for every tree the plague touched. But behind her soft heart lay resveratrol—a shield for the mind and soul. “Let me soothe the rage it brings.”

Then **Cherin** came, fierce and fiery, leaping from branch to branch with twin daggers carved from cherry pits. “I’ll cut the darkness from their bones,” she declared, her weapons glowing with quercetin and melatonin. Her anger was a fire they’d need.

**Solan**, a sun-child with skin like burnished gold, radiated warmth. “Let’s peel away the sorrow,” he laughed, tossing spheres of light into the sky. His essence—vitamin C and citrus limonoids—burned away despair and energized the tired.

From the mists rolled **Kia**, small but luminous, her green skin soft as silk. She did not speak, but when she kissed a dying tree, it bloomed. Glutathione flowed in her veins—a master healer. “She brings order to broken things,” Elyra whispered.

And then there was **Zara**, clad in royal robes and smelling of distant oceans. She carried power not easily named—xanthones, ancient and potent. “I am the balm,” she said. “I do not fight—I *undo* what has been done.”

Last came **Vok**, large and stoic, wearing armor of emerald skin. His steps were slow, but each one made the earth breathe deeper. “I am the root,” he said. “I do not falter.” In his core, vitamin E, glutathione, and good fat intertwined. His strength fed the others.

Together, they were called the **Fruits of Light**.

Their first battle was in the Valley of Hollow Songs, where Morras had taken root in a grove of elder trees. The air was thick with despair. Kael and Sira moved first, purging the corruption with bursts of color and fire. Rohm split the ground, revealing tunnels of black sludge which Kia sealed with her green light.

Vinna wrapped the infected branches in vines, calming their tremors. Cherin danced atop the limbs, slicing spores from the air. Solan threw sunlight like spears. Zara melted rot with a touch. Vok stood at the edge of the grove, grounding them all.

But Morras was clever.

It changed.

It adapted.

It burrowed into minds, whispering lies.

*You cannot win. You are only fruit. Nature will fall as it always does.*

Doubt crept into the Ten.

But Elyra appeared again, her form fading.

“Remember,” she said. “Your power was never just in what you are—but in what you bring together. You are not one solution—you are many. Together, you are medicine.”

The Ten joined hands.

Their energies merged—color, scent, light, sound. A pulse erupted, a **Wave of Harmony**, a force of antioxidants so pure it reached even the roots of the earth.

The darkness screamed.

And then

Silence.

Peace.

Years passed.

The Fruits of Light returned to the Elaran Tree. Some became legends. Others went to sleep in seeds, waiting for those in the world above to remember them.

And here, in our world, they still grow.

In the berries on your morning table.

In the orange in your lunchbox.

In the avocado on your toast.

Their magic remains—quiet, powerful, and ready—waiting for us to call on them once more.