Silence. The earth was still and yet Mount Xriktor smoldered, its fiery heart exposed. The meteor had caused utter destruction. The plains and villages were covered in a blackened crust, akin to the likes of the city of Pompeii. The blackened plains stretched like a scar to the horizon, glowing embers scattered like fallen stars. Flakes of ash floated down from the sky. Inside the mountain, a change had been wrought. The blast had hollowed Xriktor, making it a great and vast cave.

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The ringing in Gildor's ears died, and, spitting out a mouthful of dirt, he lifted his head. He'd been lying face down in the mud, and he slowly rose to his feet, coughing. Heat rolled off the earth in shimmering waves, making the air thick and unbreathable. Dust clung to his throat, turning every breath into a painful rasp. The town, thankfully, still stood. Somehow, the ramshackle building did too, its battered walls leaning but intact, defying the chaos around it.

Surveying the scene, Gildor saw a few of the other kids raising their heads, some spitting and gagging, others stunned to silence. Gwendolyn, somehow, was still on her perch, tawny eyes stretched as wide as they would go, knuckles white as she clung to the edge of the shelf.

Slowly, as everyone regained their bearings, more of the children sat up and some started whimpering. The fearful noises grew in volume, and Gildor shied away from the sound. Weakness in its most irritating state, he thought. But even so, they needed him. And he hated that more than the quake itself.

Regardless, he was shaken. He locked eyes with Gwendolyn across the room, her gaze nervous but unyielding. In that moment, Gildor knew what he had to do—and it would alter the course of history forever.

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At the point of contact of the meteor and the earth, a single sapling stood in the echoing center of the cave. I was a sapling unlike any other before seen on the planet. It glowed like embers, its branches trembling with an unearthly power. A faint hum seemed to echo through the cavern, vibrating through the cold, ash-laden air. At first, it pulsed with life, its leaves trembling toward an unseen sun, but as weeks turned to months, it began to wither and die.How had the sky turned small? How did the ash miles below become the ash sifting through his fingers? A low groan escaped Gildor as the strangest sensation overcame his body, a sort of shrinking, yet akin to the feeling of swelling. He stared at the skylight miles above him.

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After lying motionless for what felt like hours, his liquified muscles protested as he slowly rolled onto his side. The world began to blur, but he forced his eyes back into focus, refusing to submit. He was not of the sort to submit.

Gildor could not feel the heat of the scorched world through the mountain walls, but the cave wasn't entirely cold either. A small glow of warmth emanated from the center of the cave, a weak flickering sort. Wary, he pushed himself upright and peered over the ash mound.

A small tree was in the center of the cave. Gildor had little experience with trees, having grown up in a treeless town surrounded by more of the same. He didn't think much of the sapling at first, but something about it felt different—alive in a way no wood he'd seen before ever was.

The bark was gray as soot, shifting to a dusky shade every few seconds. It was shot through with curving lines of weak orange, that glowed like the heart of a dying ember. Orange light glanced up the lines in rhythm, a pulsing beaux. Very much like a heartbeat.

Its brittle, leafless branches had curled inward, and it was withered and shrunk. It felt warm. The warmth seeped into his arms, dulling his aches. It felt oddly familiar, as if it had been waiting for him. Entranced, he watched it for a few seconds, soaking in its heat, before remembering his bodily needs and standing up. The sapling's warmth lingered, wrapping around him like a memory he couldn't place. He hesitated, torn between curiosity and caution, before turning away.

The tree was different, and beckoned to him, but Gildor was wary of it. Taking a few handfuls of stone, he shoved the jagged meteorite chunks into his satchel, the faint warmth of the stone lingering against his fingertips. He looked for a way out.

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Warmth was very near. The pulsing from the heart of the earth, the powerful blood of it, soaked through fragile roots and encased inside a stellar being that resembled those on earth. The murky gray haze wavered, parting to reveal a figure. Sharp gray eyes and golden-brown hair burned into its awareness, their warmth drawing it closer. Proud as a lion, sharp as an eagle.

Life was breathed into sapling, and in turn, the sapling breathed life into him. Fire blazed with the glamor of the sun, reflected in the stranger's eyes. Then he withdrew, but his warmth lingered where he'd been.

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Word Count: 842