A corpse tree was classified as a plant type demonic entity. It fed on the nutrients and spiritual energy of the buried corpses in graveyards, battlefields and other places where dead bodies were found in large enough numbers. When fully matured, the corpse tree would produce malevolent spectres that lead innocent people to the corpse tree for its feeding. In its early stages, the tree was visually undetectable due to its ability to take on the form of its native neighbours.

And in its final form, the tree would extend its influence over several acres of land through a network of expanding root systems. Once established through its roots, it was next to impossible to get rid of the tree. The only way to reduce its effects would be to suppress the tree every 19th day. Suffice to say, a corpse tree was a dangerous thing to play with.

“Why?” Syryn squeezed Alka’s shoulders. “Why have you done such a thing?!”

“Because this place was turning into something just as terrible as a corpse tree’s haunt,” Alka replied.

“I was here last year picking wild herbs with a classmate. We stumbled upon the orphanage and the graveyards. For the sake of a spindle root, he disturbed the graves. There was — a lot of wailing that night. I came back as soon as I could and buried the seed to prevent the ghosts from rising. It seemed like more of an immediate problem than a mature corpse tree.”

“Where did you even get the seed from Alka?” The logic of using a corpse tree to temporarily suppress the ghosts was sound but it was done by trained priests whose light elements could balance and reduce the dark energy of the tree.

“I have a friend at Saint’s Moon.” Alka guiltily replied. A lunatic priest then, Syryn surmised.

“Why then did you not just report the incident?” There were exorcists, cleaners, priests, and other specialists that could easily take care of orphan ghosts regardless of their malevolence.

“It is a crime to disturb graves. He would have been expelled.” Alka replied.

“Who cares about him?! This wasn’t your problem Alka. Where is he now and why isn’t he helping you with this?!” Syryn gestured around them.

“It doesn’t matter,” Alka replied with a soft sigh of defeat.

“This classmate is someone important to you isn’t he?” That was the only reason Syryn could think of for why Alka was protecting this individual.

His silence was answer enough. “Alka, you have very shady friends,” Syryn grumbled as if he wasn’t the shadiest one of them all. “We’re going to have a proper conversation about this later. Let’s take a look at the tree first.”

The rain had thankfully let up and now it was just a cold forest wind that chilled their exposed skins. Ignoring the repulsive feelings that bid Syryn turn back and leave, he reached the tree. This feeling that Syryn was getting was a defence mechanism of the Corpse tree in its growth stage. It gave off an aura that turned off creatures that tried to get close.

“This is it.” Alka stood next to an ordinary-looking tree that was no different from its neighbours. Nothing about it stood out from the group of similar-looking evergreens. In a single year, the tree had grown far faster than it should have. That had terrible implications for how many bodies were buried under the soil beneath their feet.

Syryn wasn’t one to mourn the death of most humans but little children were innocent to the evils of the world and he found it upsetting when confronted with the awful things that had happened here.

“What’s the plan Alka?” Syryn could not hope to contend with the root system that would attack him if he tried anything violent. There were just too many of them for him to handle alone.

“You won’t like my plan,” Alka replied.

“I see.” It wasn’t as if Syryn had liked any of the plant mage’s plans so far. He decided that he would just roll with Alka’s bullshit.

The plant mage placed a hand on the smooth bark of the tree and closed his eyes. “Syryn, I want to possess the tree and hold it down until you are successful at killing it.”

“Bad idea.” Syryn immediately replied. Alka could get reverse possessed by the sentient tree, or worse, die from trying to fight for control.

“Not if you make a blood pact with me,” Alka replied. Syryn suddenly forgot what it was that he had wanted to say.

“Do you even know what you’re asking for?” He replied with disbelief.

“I trust you.” Alka simply replied.

Madness. Syryn had never encountered such a situation before. It was akin to a calf bearing its tender throat at Syryn and asking him to take a bite. The thought of it sent an involuntary shiver of anticipation through him. The sleeping demon in him approved of the idea. Corrupt him, devour his humanity, take him! It whispered with need.

“Alka, are you sure?” Syryn shook away the fog of temptation in his mind. He knew of a method that would enable Alka to amplify his magic and it didn’t require a blood pact. This method would cost Syryn a lot of mana so he could only use it sparingly.

“I have had plenty of time to change my mind,” Alka replied with quiet conviction.

“There’s another way. This is a secret only known by some demon hybrids. You cannot let the information out, you understand?” Not even Traxdart knew about this. How could he? He was too busy with plans of world domination to care about the secrets of his minions.

Alka nodded, “I’m ready.”

Syryn held his gaze for a few seconds of preparation. He then bit his fingertip and when it began to bleed, he pushed his finger into Alka’s mouth.

“Just trust me and swallow.” Syryn grinned at the plant mage. There was a tension in his shoulders that came from taking such a huge leap of faith. If word got out about this, his kind would be in danger from both humans and pure-blooded demons. The rarity of superior half breeds along with the fact that it took intentional transfer of power into concentrated drops of blood ensured that something like this wasn’t well known.

Alka’s throat bobbed and it took barely a second for the mage to react. When he did, his soft lips made an ‘o’ as a warmth flooded through his body. Alka’s eyes soon began to glow a ghost fire green and watching it sent a thrill of excitement through Syryn.

“Do you feel powerful enough to subdue the corpse tree?” Syryn inclined his head and looked at Alka through indigo eyes. The clouds had evacuated and moonlight slipped in through the canopy in muted silver. Alka’s rosy lips parted and he turned to the tree that had been getting restless since the moment they’d arrived.

“I still want to make a blood pact with you.” He replied calmly and closed his eyes. “Syryn, I’m starting. Cut off the root system and find its seed if you can.”

“Right away.” He replied and transformed his hands into claws. Syryn then began to hum the tune to his favourite anthem.

“Lulu, I’m a bit hurt they didn’t call me for such a cool fight.”

Legs crossed and chin propped on his hand, Magnus was seated on a large rock uphill with Lucien. From where they sat, they could see gleaming white tentacles the thickness of a grown man’s arm span attacking a boy with dark hair. With powerful swipes of the boy’s claws, the tentacles were falling apart on the ground but it felt like more and more of them kept replacing the falling comrades.

“Call me Lulu again and I’ll tear out your family jewels,” Lucien answered calmly.

“Lulu, I’m telling Syryn that you’re a pervert,” Magnus replied with a light flick to the red head’s forehead.

A vein popped in Lucien’s forehead. If he wasn’t so powerless, he would have ground the insufferably annoying mage to dust. Alas, he could only swallow the frustration and throw Luci out so he wouldn’t end up doing something undignified.

“Oh? Luci, welcome back.” Magnus’ smile was much gentler now.

Lucien looked around him and shivered from how cold the air felt. “Where are we?”

“I’m not really sure,” Magnus replied. “Look, Syryn and Alka are having fun.” The tall mage then took his cloak off and draped it over the child.

The redhead gratefully snuggled into the cloak that still held the warmth from Magnus’ body. Together, they sat side by side in comfortable silence. It was a good place to watch the show from.

Syryn had destroyed most of the primary defender roots. Thanks to Alka fighting the tree’s consciousness, the corpse tree could do little when faced with Syryn’s attacks. What should have been tens of tentacles attacking in concert was reduced to a few that tried their best but failed to protect the tree. Alka had gone above and beyond Syryn’s expectations.

Weakened enough that it could only wait for death, Syryn made a deep cut into the trunk of the tree. Out came pouring a black sap that he collected in his glass vials.

Alka walked up to Syryn curiously. “Where is the seed?”

“Here. Plant it again and I’ll feed you to Lucien.” Syryn threw the bone-white seed over to Alka. Catching it with a graceful movement of his arm, the plant mage replied, “Don’t worry, I’ll return it to the priest who lent it to me.”

Syryn wondered what Alka would have done if he had come alone. Would he have faced the tree by himself and gotten consumed by it?

“Alka.”

Green eyes turned to him. “I can’t watch over you forever. Don’t do stupid things.” Syryn hoped Alka understood what he meant.

“No promises.” The plant mage replied. For the sake of getting more blood from Syryn, Alka believed he might just follow the boy down a cliff if he jumped again.