The air stilled.
It wasn't the cold that froze me this time—no, the wind howled as fiercely as ever—but a primal fear. My tiny body locked up, unable to respond to the presence of the talon, the yellow beak, and the creature they belonged to. A giant owl, more enormous than anything I could fathom. Its feathers were so white they almost glowed against the backdrop of the snow-covered tundra.
Its piercing gaze settled on me, unblinking, unrelenting. Time stretched, my breaths shallow, my heartbeat hammering inside my ribcage. The owl tilted its head slightly—that curious, unsettling motion only owls could make—as if assessing whether I was prey or pest.
For a moment, I was sure that this was it. This was where my story ended.
I'm going to get eaten. I'm going to die in a tundra with no one knowing my name.
"Ah... ah... um... Nice birdie?" My voice squeaked. Real smooth. What's next, belly rubs?
The owl's massive talon shifted, scraping against the snow with a sound that sent chills down my spine. Then, the bird lowered its head closer to me, its beak so near I could see my wide-eyed reflection in its curved surface.
And then it spoke.
"Child."
The voice was deep, resonant, and yet strangely soft, like Morgan Freeman narrating my doom. It wasn't spoken aloud but reverberated inside my skull, bypassing my ears entirely.
I blinked. "Wha…?"
The owl pulled its head back, rising to its full, imposing height. Its wings, when it stretched them, blocked out the faint sunlight like twin curtains of winter night.
"You have crossed into a world not your own."
Its voice held weight—the kind of weight you feel when someone starts a sentence with "We need to talk". Ancient, godlike, existential dread level.
"And yet... you are not lost."
"What… what are you talking about?" I stammered, hugging myself like I was cosplaying budget Jon Snow. "Who are you? Why am I here? Where even is here?"
The owl blinked slowly, its massive yellow eyes boring into me.
"This is the Rootland, where the World Tree touches all that was, is, and could be."
The World Tree?
Wait. Wait. I know this one. Isn't this some kind of Nordic stuff? Yggdrasil. A tree that connects realms. I'd seen it in anime, video games, and one or two low-budget fantasy series that shall remain nameless. But standing here, staring up at this thing, all those references felt like doodles next to the Mona Lisa.
I shook my head. "No, no, no. You've got the wrong guy, big bird. I'm just… I'm just some dude! I was in my apartment binge-watching Netflix five minutes ago. Now I'm a kid freezing in the middle of Narnia with cosplay armor made of leather belts!"
The owl didn't answer. It just stared at me, blinking slowly, like I was this close to becoming its next meal.
"You don't believe me, do you?" I huffed. "You probably think I'm supposed to be some hero or something, don't you? Well, I'm not. I'm just me. No chosen one here. Move along."
The owl tilted its head again—mocking me, I swear.
"Perhaps. But even those unchosen may walk the paths of the tree."
Oh, great. Vague owl riddles. Next thing I know, I'll have to solve a puzzle or fight a mini-boss.
"Okay, look," I started, flailing my arms. "I'm cold, starving, and confused. Can you not with the riddles? Just tell me what I'm supposed to do!"
The owl turned its head toward the massive tree.
"Come."
I blinked. "Come…? That's it? Just… come?"
The owl spread its wings, sending a gust of wind into my face like it was saying, Hurry up, tiny mortal. Then, it walked forward, every step of its talons leaving craters in the snow.
"Oh, come on," I muttered to myself. "Why couldn't I spawn next to a warm inn or a magical talking cat? Fine, fine. Lead the way, Big Bird."
The World Tree grew bigger with every step, in the way a mountain grows when you realize you're actually walking toward it and not just admiring it from afar. At some point, I stopped trying to make sense of it. The thing was a cheat code. It broke physics. Trees shouldn't touch the clouds. They shouldn't be the clouds.
The owl, meanwhile, floated along like this was a casual stroll through its backyard. I looked like an exhausted toddler trying to keep up with a marathon runner.
"Hey," I called out, panting. "Where exactly are we going?"
The owl didn't turn its head. "Answers."
"Great. Love that for me. Real specific."
When we finally reached the base of the World Tree, I swear I almost fell backward. Saying it was big feels insulting. Calling it a tree feels insulting. It was a skyscraper—a planet—a goddamn continent. Its roots curved like mountains. Its bark rose like cliffs. Somewhere up in the clouds, branches the size of highways vanished into mist.
I craned my neck so far back I thought it might snap. "Okay, I get it. You're a big tree. You win."
The owl perched itself on one of the roots and looked at me.
"Climb."
I stared. "Excuse me?"
"Climb," it repeated.
"Climb that? I'm three feet tall! My arms are noodles! I'll die!"
The owl didn't care. It gave me a look—a very judgey, You-don't-have-options-here kind of look.
"Oh, you're loving this, aren't you?" I muttered. "Fine. You want me to climb the tree? I'll climb the tree."
Spoiler: climbing the tree sucked.
The bark tore at my hands. My arms burned. My feet slid more than they held. I'd grab one handhold, slip, curse every god in existence, and repeat the process. The owl floated alongside me the whole time like some judgmental life coach.
"What's the point of this?" I gasped, clinging to a knot of bark. "Is this some weird tutorial level? A trial?"
The owl's voice hummed in my head. "You wish for answers. Then climb."
"Real helpful! Ever hear of an elevator?"
I don't know how long I climbed. Time stopped mattering. My body stopped mattering. It was just me, the tree, and the sound of my own breath—until, finally, I saw it.
A door.
Set into the bark, old and weathered, like something out of a fairy tale.
"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered.
The owl landed beside me, silent. "The path you seek lies beyond."
I reached for the handle, my hand trembling. Whatever was behind this door… it had better be worth it.
With a deep breath, I pushed it open.