Chapter Eleven: The Dark Realm and Wondrous Sights

Before everyone’s eyes, the towering oak was turning white at a speed visible to the naked eye. Its leaves, branches, and trunk all faded from deep brown to a milky white, as if coated in translucent resin. The transformation swept from the crown to the trunk and down to the roots, so rapid it defied all common sense and shattered everyone’s understanding of the natural world.

Throughout this whitening process, the entire oak radiated light—a gentle, non-blinding white glow that grew ever more intense, so much so that it seemed to dim the sky itself. This was no mere trick of perception. For, at the very instant the whitening was complete, a phenomenon unfolded within a five-kilometer radius of the oak, one that upended all established knowledge.

Across the entire sky, countless beams of light twisted into glowing filaments. These threads, woven from pure illumination, drew in every ounce of brightness from the surroundings, plunging the entire expanse into utter darkness. Like ribbons of white silk fluttering through the air, the luminous bands hovered and drifted, converging inexorably on the oak.

In a heartbeat, the tree stood encircled by these swirling, floating strands—white as clouds, spinning into radiant halos around its massive form. The crown of the oak resembled a vast funnel, endlessly drawing in the surrounding white light and forming a rarefied, gaping void above its peak.

At this moment, the oak alone shone in the world—a spectacle both sacred and awe-inspiring. Though the morning sun still hung above, the five kilometers around the tree were plunged into a night blacker than pitch. In the eyes of all present, the sun had become a pale orb akin to the moon in the midst of this darkness. Every ray of light had been drawn in, absorbed by the oak without the faintest chance of escape.

Within the rainforest, all life fell silent. Every creature’s gaze turned toward the oak. Anderson found himself utterly unable to describe the shock and terror that gripped his heart. This sight, so unreal and beyond all reason, shattered his worldview and drew him into a state of rapt fascination.

In that moment, for Anderson and for many others, the great, whitened oak became the very embodiment of divinity. Never had they imagined that myth could stand so close to them. They held their breath and kept instinctively silent, as though any sound would profane the presence of a god.

Rooted to the spot, they seemed to forget their own existence, their thoughts and vision filled solely by that mysterious tree, which stirred involuntary reverence in every soul. The oak’s absorption of light continued unabated.

Time itself seemed to freeze.

Five minutes passed.

Half an hour.

Two hours.

And still it went on.

Everyone’s legs had gone numb from standing. Some of the older folk even needed others to support them. Fanny Campbell, the American spokesperson, had become the image of a devout believer—hands folded across her chest, head bowed, eyes closed, her lips moving in silent, fervent prayer.

Even Reed, one of the few nonbelievers in the Western Union, dared not disturb the atmosphere of pilgrimage that had overtaken nearly everyone present. Though he had recovered from his initial shock, there was a new, profound look in his eyes. At some point, he realized, he had been sitting on the ground for a very long time.

Viewed from above, the rainforest revealed an immense black domain, five kilometers in diameter, centered on the oak. This semicircular shadow was pressed against the earth, and from its edges, countless bands of white light streamed in continuously. The sight was so astonishing that it sent shockwaves as far as the small town of Buado, ten kilometers away.

Though Buado’s population was small—fifty thousand at most—panic spread as word of the vast black zone at the sacred site reached them. Many people fell to their knees, bowing and chanting prayers for divine wrath and redemption.

Yet, all of this was only the beginning.

...

In the National Park of America, it was nearly noon. Because it was the weekend, the park, though not crowded, bustled with families. On the lawns beneath the Jurupa oaks, people picnicked—sandwiches, wine, children running about, a picture of warmth.

But amidst this peaceful scene, hundreds of oaks across the park began to rustle their leaves, though there was no wind. In the very center of the park, an ancient oak—around thirteen thousand years old and protected by a fence—was especially remarkable. Its leaves quivered and shook, some fluttering down like a joyous dance, others bending southward as if in silent homage.

Old, withered leaves rained down while new, curled shoots unfurled at impossible speed, as if time itself had hastened.

Beneath one of the trees, a young couple sat on a bench, about to kiss. Suddenly, the oak’s abrupt shudder and cascade of leaves broke the tender moment.

“Oh, my God, Alf, this oak seems… strange,” Carola exclaimed, staring up in astonishment at the branches overhead.

Alf, puzzled, brushed a leaf from his hair and looked up as well—only to be stunned by what he saw. Right above him, countless leaves were rippling without wind, and, visible to the eye, several curled buds on the branches were swelling and opening rapidly.

Alf rubbed his eyes and stared in disbelief. “Carola? I think I’m seeing things.”

“Darling, I don’t think it’s your eyes—because I see it too.”

They exchanged incredulous looks. All around the park, exclamations began to erupt.

“Mom! Mom! The oak’s blooming! Look! Hurry!”

“Little one, you know oaks only bloom from April to May—it’s only March now,” a smiling woman replied to her running child.

“But I’m not lying, Mom—look, it really is blooming!”

“Oh? Is that so?” The woman, gathering up their picnic, smiled indulgently and glanced in the direction her child pointed.

In that instant, her expression froze, startled. For there, just as her child said, the oak that had been lush green only moments before was now bursting, one after another, with white blossoms.

As the tree flowered, new leaves seemed to grow in fast-forward, making it appear even vaster and more vibrant.

In an instant, the park was filled with commotion and wonder.