The last cherry blossom tree. It felt so out of place in the city, among the skyscrapers engulfed in vines, but it was perfect in this room. Moonlight hit the soft petals from a large circular cutout in the ceiling. Some say the tree is protected by the gods, but I don't believe that. I don't believe that anything, especially anything precious, was protected by them. These dead buildings used to hold an innumerable amount of people, and now, there are few.
When it rained the tree never drowned, when it was sunny the tree never burned, and it never thundered. Not here. It seems the gods would rather protect a tree than a person. Despite my sentiments, I always found myself here every once in awhile, standing in front of the Tree of The Gods. I enjoyed watching its petals float in the nearby pool, and engulf the floor in a sea of delicate pink, but I did not enjoy what it stood for—or maybe I did. I always took a petal with me when I left. Always dipped my body in the Healing Pool. Always watched my tongue. Always tried to listen for a voice. To no avail.
Adjusting my shoulder sack, I left the holy grounds, rubbing my thumb over the softness of a petal. My bag rattled as I jumped down onto the metal platforms below, taking a shortcut to the ground level. The central area, despite being quiet, was the safest in the city. I didn't have to worry about Rabids or cannibals here.
Maybe that's why I visited. The holy site is a preserved haven compared to anywhere else, despite the fact it brought me the same amount of questions as everything else.
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Where Are The Gods In The Apocalypse?
FantasyDespite the withered buildings that nature decided to take back, Liyah still has many of the same questions that she did before the Earth was changed. Carrying a book, a petal, and portrait, and her knife, she decides to trek to somewhere-anywhere-i...
