The Alien Within

Chapter 242: The Universe tree guardian!

After what felt like an eternity, Tessa found herself lying on barren ground. The earth beneath her was cracked and lifeless, a wasteland of black soil that seemed to stretch endlessly. She blinked, her body aching as she slowly sat up, her movements leaving an imprint on the dark earth.

"I was just passing through the wormhole," she muttered, her voice breaking the eerie silence. "How did I end up here? Where exactly is this place? I was supposed to arrive before the Universal Tree, not… here."

Her words echoed faintly, swallowed by the oppressive stillness of her surroundings. Rising to her feet, she brushed the dust from her clothes and looked around. The landscape was unfamiliar—alien. There were no landmarks, no traces of life, and, more importantly, no mention of this desolate place in the memory bank she had inherited from the deceased Time God, Zorath.

Tessa began to move, her steps cautious as she trudged forward, scanning the environment for any clue. Her mind raced as she searched her inherited memories for an explanation, but the barren land remained a mystery even to Zorath's vast knowledge.

Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet trembled. It was a subtle vibration at first, then grew into a violent quake, the earth beneath her rippling like water in a storm. The sound was deafening, akin to a pot boiling over, ready to erupt.

Tessa's heart raced as she instinctively placed a hand on her baby bump. It throbbed in response, an unsettling rhythm that matched the tremors in the ground. Her child, it seemed, was as anxious as she was. By now, Tessa had grown accustomed to the strange, otherworldly bond she shared with her unborn baby, but the sensation still unnerved her.

Before she could react, the ground split open with a deafening crack. From the chasm emerged a massive head, rising into view like a monolith piercing the sky. The head alone was over eight feet in length, its surface textured like molten stone. It rose higher, revealing a towering body that stretched upward like a living skyscraper.

But this was no lifeless structure. The being had eyes—massive, glowing orbs that seemed to bore into her soul. It had arms, thick and sinewy, and legs that moved with a deliberate, unnatural grace. It stood before her, a colossus exuding an aura of immense power and intelligence.

The creature leaned forward slightly, its glowing eyes narrowing as it spoke. Its voice was deep and resonant, like the rumble of an earthquake.

"MORTAL," it boomed, its tone carrying both authority and curiosity. "WHAT IS YOUR PURPOSE HERE? HOW DID YOU COME TO KNOW OF THIS PLACE?"

The weight of its words hung heavy in the air, the question laced with both suspicion and concern. Tessa stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat as she stared up at the towering being, unsure of what to say—or how to respond.

For over a billion years, no mortal had stepped foot in this sacred realm. It was a place shrouded in secrecy, known only to a chosen few, and fiercely protected by an ancient guardian. The terrain stretched out endlessly, a wasteland of black soil. This eerie, lifeless landscape was no natural phenomenon—it was the mark of the sentinel, a manifestation of its immense power, meant to deter and disorient any uninvited intruders.

To see a mortal now, standing amidst this forsaken ground, was deeply troubling for the sentinel. Suspicion gnawed at its core. The arrival of one mortal often meant more would follow. And where mortals walked, chaos was sure to follow. The Universe Tree was a beacon of unparalleled power, its allure capable of drawing the desperate and the greedy alike. If left unchecked, this sacred ground could become a bloodbath.

The sentinel's glowing eyes bore into Tessa, its massive frame radiating an aura of restrained menace.

Tessa, though aware of the enormity of the being before her, stood her ground. She steadied her breath, carefully crafting her words. "You need not worry," she began, her voice steady yet respectful. "No one else knows about this place. I am the successor of Time God Zorath, carrying the Time Seed. I came here only to obtain some sap from the Universe Tree—not for harm, but to preserve this secret and safeguard its power."

Her words hung in the air, deliberate and precise. She revealed just enough to establish her authority while withholding any information that could deepen the sentinel's mistrust.

The sentinel's immense form stiffened, its glowing eyes flaring with newfound intensity. "YOU CLAIM TO BE THE SUCCESSOR OF ZORATH?" it rumbled, its voice an avalanche of sound. "IF THAT IS TRUE, THEN I SHOULD SIMPLY KILL YOU AND SEAL THIS SECRET FOREVER. BUT… WAIT—IS ZORATH DEAD?"

The revelation struck the sentinel like a thunderbolt. For a moment, its towering form froze in stunned silence. Zorath, the first being birthed by the Universe Tree, was not merely a guardian but a cornerstone of this reality. His existence was intertwined with the balance of time and the flow of creation itself. If Tessa was his successor, it could mean only one thing—Zorath was gone.

The creature's rumbling voice softened into a low, resonant hum as it processed this truth. "ZORATH… GONE?" it murmured, almost to itself. The weight of the realization rippled through the blackened terrain, the cracks in the soil glowing faintly as if reacting to the sentinel's distress.

Tessa clenched her fists, her heart pounding, but she refused to falter. "You could kill me," she said evenly, her voice unwavering despite the tension. "But have you considered the consequences? My death would create an imbalance so profound it would ripple through this universe and beyond. The destruction of the Time Seed would disrupt the delicate harmony required for the birth of new universes. Even the Universe Tree itself might suffer."

The sentinel remained motionless, her words cutting through its growing anger. It was no mere brute; it was a being of profound intelligence, tasked with the eternal protection of the Universe Tree. Even Zorath, with all his wisdom, had been unaware of its existence. The sentinel was a failsafe, designed to intervene when unforeseen events—like this one—threatened the sanctity of the tree.