Four months had passed since the boy was branded.

  Four months since Acrid began to reshape the jungle, not through fire or conquest, but through growth.

  The Amazon was no longer a region. It was a borderless, breathing organism. Acrid’s saplings had overtaken farmland, roads, even entire towns. Towering trees with leaves unknown to any catalog released pure oxygen into the atmosphere. Soil poisoned by decades of abuse was now rich with life. Pollutants had vanished from the air in measurable, undeniable waves.

  It was the greatest ecological restoration in human history.

  But no one could enter.

  Machines that attempted to clear the land never made it more than a few feet in. Their blades corroded. Their tires melted. Even drones sent from the air were swallowed by sudden downpours of acid rain. Acid so potent, it dissolved synthetic material and human bone within seconds. Whatever this element was, it wasn’t found on the periodic table.

  Scientists who tried to retrieve samples didn’t return. Instead, they became a part of Acrid's domain.

  Any human who perished within the boundaries of Acrid’s influence was reduced to a green, viscous sludge, immediately absorbed by the jungle floor. And where they vanished, saplings bloomed.

  The jungle was feeding itself.

  But not all were taken.

  The village that first discovered the tree had changed. Now known simply as Acrid’s Tribe, they were the only ones spared and more than that, they were rewarded. They lived without machines, without fire. They prayed without temples and harvested without tools. In return, Acrid provided them with everything they needed. The fruit that came from Acrid's vines were a completely nourishing bounty that never spoiled. Rivers that healed. Light that glowed from moss and leaves. They asked for nothing, and were given everything. When they walked through the jungle, the briers cleared a way for them and the thorns retracted. Acrid's acid was their nectar and safe for them to drink.

  Acrid's unwritten law was simple:

  Protect the jungle, and it will reward you.

  But not all saw it as healing.

  Outside the untouched walls of Acrid’s influence, the world was unraveling. Not because of war or plague, but because of absence.

  The Amazon had been more than a forest. It had been a lifeline. With its sudden inaccessibility, global supply chains collapsed like dominoes. Coffee, cacao, and fruit became luxury items overnight. Major chocolate manufacturers went bankrupt. Chain cafés shuttered across cities - a world without Starbucks. Plants once harvested for oils, dyes, and fragrances could no longer be reached.

  The makeup industry collapsed under the pressure. The “no-makeup” trend wasn’t a social movement. It was necessity.

  Medicinal herbs were gone. Without them, new pharmaceuticals stopped production. Existing stockpiles vanished into the hands of the rich. Basic painkillers became scarce. Clinics rationed supplies. A bottle of ibuprofen was worth more than gold in some cities.

  Governments tried to shift blame. Trade wars began followed by quiet treaties. Military drones were deployed to gather samples, but none returned. Rescue operations were refused. Black market videos surfaced of people entering the jungle and vanishing into the vines.

  For every death, the jungle grew larger.

  And yet, every attempt to stop it only made things worse.

  Farmers tried setting fires along the outskirts. The jungle grew back within hours.

  A university team in Brazil tried genetically modifying an acid-resistant fungus. It was devoured before it could grow.

  Then came the storms. Aircraft that entered Acrid’s domain dissolved before they could make contact. The clouds themselves were toxic. Corrosive rain laced with unknown particles that caused instant death to anything and anyone inside, and complete structural failure in drones, helicopters, and planes.

  Nothing could fly over the Amazon anymore. It was officially declared a dead zone by every international government.

  But that wasn’t true.

  It wasn’t dead.

  It was alive.

  And it was growing.

  The professor sat at the table one early morning like always, one hand wrapped around a ceramic mug. The coffee inside never cooled, never needed reheating. A plate of perfectly arranged food sat before him - toast, eggs, a few slices of something that looked and tasted like bacon, though no pig had been involved.

  Across the table, Mind sat in its usual place. Loafed like a cat, eyes watching Athena play with the dumb catnip toy that she loved so much. Mind never understood how a creature could be entertained so much by one inanimate object.

  “Does it take any effort to make food and drinks all the time?”

  Mind's head snapped towards the Professor. “Nope, it's pretty much knowing what your body wants and creating it. It's not reading your mind, it's more like reading your cravings.”

  “You’re creepy, you know that?”

  “I prefer efficient.”

  The professor smirked. He took a sip of his coffee. There was always a different pattern in the foam. He’d stopped wondering how.

  “The kitchen’s basically a museum piece now,” he muttered. “I haven’t touched the stove in weeks.”

  “You don’t need to. What I make gives your body exactly what it needs. Enough protein, hydration, minerals. No surplus. No deficit.”

  The Professor looked on the counter tops around the kitchen. A buffet of every food imaginable always awaited him that never spoiled and never went cold. Ever time he took something from the piles of food, it instantly replenished. “So I can’t even overeat out of spite.”

  “Nope. Eating over your needed caloric intake would just be for the taste.”

  The professor leaned back in his chair, the old wood creaking beneath him.

  “I was watching the most recent satellite feed last night,” he said. “They’re calling the Amazon a dead zone now. Dead. That’s the word they used.”

  Mind blinked slowly. “Humans often confuse silence with death.”

  “It’s not dead,” the professor said, shaking his head. “It’s louder than it’s ever been. They just don’t know how to listen.”

  Mind said nothing.

  The professor picked up a piece of toast and lathered in grape jam and folded it in half. “Acrid’s tribe… they’re just living. No resistance. No machines. No fires. And the jungle gives them everything.”

  “They found a hidden law.” Mind says. “All dragons have hidden laws that beings can follow to insure their survival. Otherwise, no one would live.”

  The professor had concluded through his visions and research about a month ago that what Acrid was doing was for the greater good. He discovered that, while in his visions, that he can move freely throughout the jungle without being harmed. He saw the extreme efforts man tried to enter the jungle, but then he saw death. With that death came growth.

  “They see anything they do not control as a threat,” Mind replied. “It is why my kin sleep for so long. The world must forget us before it can survive us.”

  There was a long pause. The professor stared at his half-eaten breakfast. “What time was that shipment suppose to be here?”

  Mind's face looked like it was deep in thought. “It should be here at anytime.”

  A loud knock at the door startled Mind and the Professor. The Professor grunted as he got up and walked to the door while cracking his knuckles, a sound that Mind hated with a passion.

  The Professor opened the door and saw the delivery driver getting into his truck. With a wave, he was gone and the Professor pressed a button on the inside of the doorway. A hidden hatch opened on the porch and the professor rolled the fresh crate down the ramp into the lab. He put on his lab coat and stepped into the clean room. When the sprayer finished it's cleaning cycle, he rolled the large crate into the now empty lab. The Professor and Mind had finished the research reports on all of the other fossils in the lab already and had them shipped to various museums and schools throughout the world.

  The Professor grabbed the crowbar and before he could pry open the crate, the wooden panel on top flew across the room. The Professor threw down the crowbar and yelled at Mind.

  Stolen story; please report.

  “HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO STOP DOING THAT?!?”

  Mind snickers while floating towards the now opened crate.

  “It's funny watching you get mad.”

  The Professor angrily stomps to the crate and Mind stops him. A single artifact levitates out of the crate and hovers above the straw. The Professor and Mind both stand motionless.

  “Mind... can you put down the artifact.?”

  Mind looks at the Professor with a puzzled look.

  “I'm not doing this...”

  The moment the professor touched the artifact, the world was ripped away in an instant

  He now stood in the center of a vast, circular platform, suspended in a space too large, too ancient, to comprehend. Massive pillars lined the walls, each carved with scenes of war, suffering, and death.

  Multiple thrones loomed around him, cut from mountains, each spaced around the ring. Above every throne. Only one throne was occupied. A faint glowing symbol was etched into the stone, pulsing like a heartbeat

  A Giant seated within it was unlike anything the professor had ever seen. His frame was monstrous - flesh like stone braided with roots and vines. Moss clung to his shoulders, and bark wrapped his arms like ancient armor. His pauldron bore a weathered crest of the Acrid's tree. The Professor looked at one of the Giant's exposed arms. Starting at the shoulder, was a brand of a tree. Underneath were thousands of circular brands. Memories of the brave boy and the emotional journey they shared flooded his mind.

  This Giant appeared to have once been a member of Acrid's Tribe.

  He didn’t blink.

  He didn’t breathe.

  He simply was.

  The professor took a breath to speak, but instinct crushed the words in his throat. He bowed low. Not out of respect, but by command.

  When the Giant finally moved, the air itself trembled. Dust fell from the ceiling.

  “So,” the Giant rumbled, it's voice shaking the ground. “The dragon sends you.”

  The professor looked up cautiously. “I...”

  “You will speak when spoken to.”

  The professor bit his tongue and lowered his gaze.

  “I am Grove,” the Giant said. “I was born in an age when your kind still hunted rats with stones. You are but a flea in my sanctuary, and yet... you are a Witness.” Grove scoffed in disgust.

  He leaned forward, the ancient wood of his throne groaning under his weight.

  “We, the Giants, were the first Witnesses. We were not simply chosen. We were claimed. Used. Bound. We who once shaped the earth now sit at the feet of our masters.”

  His glowing eyes narrowed.

  “And now, they choose a man.”

  The professor straightened. “I didn’t ask to be chos-.”

  “No,” Grove said coldly. “You were claimed!”

  His voice echoed through the chamber like a clap of thunder, shaking the stone floor. Cracks spidered beneath the Professor's feet.

  The Giant sat back slowly, vines curling at his feet like sleeping serpents. One vine twisted upward, bearing a golden fruit which Grove devoured in one bite.

  “My master cannot speak to you. It is not allowed. So I speak in his place. I am his voice. I am the echo of his will.”

  “My master is about to awaken. Bare witness and behold it's power. It's nectar is that of Gods... for those who protect it”

  The professor swallowed hard. “What will it do?”

  Grove’s tone turned sharp. “My master will undo - as has been done before. My master will guard it's domain. If the machines of man bite into the flesh of the jungle again…”

  The roots on his arms twitched.

  “There will be no warnings. Only more death. Only more growth... until all is consumed.”

  A long silence.

  Then Grove’s voice dropped low, with a slight sympathetic and reassuring tone.

  “You were chosen by the Supreme. Not by us. That makes you anointed. But it does not make you welcome... yet.

  He paused, and for the first time, the Professor felt something almost human behind the Giant's voice.

  We will meet again, Professor.

  The platform began to fade. The thrones turned to mist.

  The mist began to rise. The thrones blurred at the edges as the stone floor beneath him started to dissolve.

  But just before the darkness took him completely, the professor caught a glimpse - off to his left.

  A dark figure, slender and shimmering, was gliding silently toward one of the empty thrones.

  She moved like liquid, not walking, not floating – but flowing.

  Before he could see more, the vision vanished.

  And the darkness took him.

  The professor stood still in the center of the lab, eyes wide, breathing uneven. In his hand, he clutched what looked like an ordinary fossil. The floating orb from moments before was gone- as if it had never existed. The lab hummed quietly. Mind’s voice filled the room, calm and unaware.

  “...based on the gill arches and elongated fin structure. Fascinating adaptation for low-oxygen environments… ”

  The professor didn’t respond. He turned the fossil over in his palm, still rattled.

  Mind finally looked at him. “You’re awfully quiet. Something wrong?”

  The professor blinked slowly, his voice flat. “I wasn’t here.”

  Mind tilted its head. “You’ve been standing there the whole time. Your stress levels spiked a bit but you're usually excited on fossil day so it was nothing out of the ordinary. Beyond what I could manage. If you were having a vision or being tampered with mentally, I’d have detected it immediately.”

  The professor slowly placed the fossil on the nearest table. “It wasn’t in my mind. It was... somewhere else.”

  Mind narrowed its eyes.

  “You weren’t touched psychically,” it said cautiously. “Then how...?”

  The professor opened the research drawer and carefully lifted the artifact onto the research stand. “Because it wasn’t you. It was the artifact.”

  Mind’s voice dropped. “Let me see it.”

  They both approached the artifact under the sterilized lights. Layers of grime and ancient sediment still caked its surface. The professor sat and began carefully cleaning it, brushing away the dust, scrubbing with solvent and cloth, inch by inch, revealing a soft green glass that shimmered like liquid.

  As the last of the dirt was wiped away, the core of the orb came into view - a tiny droplet of dark green sludge, suspended in its center like a star frozen in glass.

  The Professor jumped out of his chair and they both back away from the glowing green orb.

  “Acrid?” the professor whispered.

  Mind didn’t answer.

  Its faint green glow pulsed gently, the small drop of suspended liquid swirling inside like it was alive.

  “You told me dragons can’t leave their domains,” the professor said, his voice steady.

  “That is correct,” Mind answered without hesitation.

  The professor pointed at the orb. “Then what is this doing here?”

  Mind floated closer, its usual confidence absent. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re sure this came from the jungle?”

  Mind hesitated. “It carries the same energy. The same... signature. I can feel it.”

  The professor folded his arms. “But it shouldn’t be here.”

  “No,” Mind said quietly. “It shouldn’t.”

  “Then something’s not adding up.”

  Mind's eyes narrowed as it studied the artifact. “Nothing of Acrid should exist outside its domain. Not roots, not seeds, not even residue.”

  “But this does,” the professor said.

  “Yes.”

  “So either the law is broken... or this slipped through before the law was ever written.”

  Mind didn’t speak.

  The professor took a slow step closer to the orb. “This wasn’t some accident. It was sealed in a crate and delivered directly to me. You track everything that comes near me. You keep me alive. How did this get past you?”

  “I didn’t see it until it was in your hands,” Mind said.

  The professor turned to him, brow furrowed. “Is that even possible?”

  Mind paused, then admitted, “Only if it was meant for your eyes alone.”

  The professor looked back to the glowing orb. “Then maybe it didn’t leave the jungle. Maybe... it followed me here.”

  Mind floated back slightly. “That would mean the jungle sees you as one of its own.”

  The professor stared at the orb a moment longer.

  “Maybe,” he said, reaching toward it, “that’s exactly what it means.”

  His fingers touched the surface.

  The moment his fingers made contact with the orb, the lab dissolved.

  The lights overhead flickered once - then vanished. The hum of machines fell silent. Gravity itself seemed to let go.

  Darkness took him.

  But not for long.

  When light returned, it wasn’t from flames. It came from the trees - pulsing veins of glowing sap ran through their bark like warm rivers of light. Bioluminescent vines curled across the jungle floor, casting a soft green glow over everything in the clearing. Faint, floating spores drifted through the air like snowflakes made of emerald dust.

  He stood in the center of a circle. The tribespeople of Acrid’s jungle surrounded him, seated in reverent silence. No torches. No fires. Just the living jungle, illuminating their faces with a calm, natural glow.

  In the center of the clearing stood the boy.

  Older than in the professor’s last vision - but unmistakable. The brands on his arm emitted a faint green glow. Small vines intertwined around his chest like a protective shell. He held the orb in both hands, cradling it with care.

  He stepped forward.

  When he reached the professor, he spoke in perfect English - his voice clear, as if carried on the breath of the jungle itself.

  “The jungle rewards those who protect it.”

  He extended the orb.

  The professor accepted it.

  A pulse of heat flashed through his neck - not pain, but presence.

  In the orb’s reflection, he saw it. Burned into his neck, subtle but unmistakable:

  The mark of Acrid.

  A tree.

  Then the vision faded.

  The jungle, the glow, the boy - all gone.

  The professor stood in his lab once more.

  Only now, Mind was staring at him in stunned silence.

  The professor stood silently for a long time, the orb resting in his palm - still warm.

  Without a word, he turned and made his way up the metal stairs leading out of the lab. Each step echoed softly beneath his feet, the only sound in a room otherwise held in stillness. Mind floated behind him, saying nothing.

  At the top, the professor passed through the reinforced door and into the familiar quiet of his study. The air was different here - dusty, still, lined with memories. A few display cases along the far wall held carefully arranged artifacts, each tagged, cataloged, understood.

  He walked to one of the cases. Inside were relics he had studied years ago - objects from lost cities, forgotten tombs, remnants of a world that no longer had questions for them.

  One by one, he removed them. Gently. Respectfully. These had earned their place - but their time was over.

  He cleared the center shelf, wiped it clean, and opened the display panel.

  Then, with both hands, he placed the orb on the shelf—alone.

  The soft green light within it pulsed faintly, casting a quiet glow over the glass around it.

  Mind hovered near the doorway, watching.

  The professor stepped back and exhaled, as if some truth had finally settled inside him.

  He didn’t say a word.

  He just looked at it for a moment, and walked to his bedroom.

  “I'm off to sleep. Guess I'll be in the jungle if you need me.”

  Mind follows him to the bed room and Athena is already napping on the bed. The Professor flops onto the bed like he always does, and immediately beings snoring.