And there, at the heart of the chamber, it stood.

  Not just a tree. A bridge. A pathway.

  The World Tree was not merely a thing of this world. It was an anchor that connected universes, a living structure that bound the Hyperpoly-Topos, the great worlds, together. Its roots stretched beyond sight, disappearing into realms and dimensions unseen, while its branches twisted into impossible shapes, fractals that touched the very edges of reality itself. The air was thick with its power, pulsing in rhythm with the boy's heartbeat, as if the tree itself were alive, aware of his every breath.

  The whispers returned.

  Rejoice child, you have come far.

  The voice was neither male nor female, neither soft nor harsh. It was a voice that echoed through time itself, resonating from every corner of the chamber. But it wasn't just one voice, it was many, speaking as one, a chorus woven together in an ancient, incomprehensible language. And yet, the words were clear.

  You stand before the Tree, the heart of all things.

  The boy's breath caught in his throat, sensing something ancient, something powerful within the voice. There was something familiar in it, something unsettling.

  Why do you seek us?

  The boy hesitated. His mind raced, but his voice was quiet. He didn't know. He thought he had known before, but now, standing here, feeling the weight of the Tree's presence, it was harder to say.

  The voice grew colder, sharper, but also more curious.

  Do you seek power? Knowledge? Or do you seek to undo the threads of fate itself?

  The boy stepped forward, the weight of the question bearing down on him. "I seek the truth," he said, his voice steady despite the uncertainty. "I seek to understand... everything."

  There was silence for a long moment, and the boy thought the voice had left him. But then it returned, much closer, the whispers now swirling around him like the rustling of leaves.

  The truth? Hmph. You may not like what you find. But I sense honesty in you.

  The boy frowned. "Who are you?"

  The voice took on a different tone, one that sent a chill down his spine. It was still not one voice, but many, as if hundreds of whispers were converging into a single presence.

  "i am Syth" the voice said, the words reverberating through the chamber, "the sole protector of the World Tree. I have guarded its roots, its branches, its very essence, for eons."

  The air seemed to thicken, and the shadows in the chamber deepened.

  "I am no friend to those who trespass here. Most come with selfish intentions, seeking power, lust, knowledge they are not worthy of. They seek to pluck the fruit of fate without understanding the cost. I have no patience for them."

  The boy took a step forward, his resolve hardening.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "But I am different."

  Syth's voice paused, as if considering the boy's words. There was a long silence, then-

  Perhaps you are.

  The tone shifted again, this time not with hostility, but with something akin to acceptance.

  Very well. I shall send you to the center of all , the heart of the Hyperpoly-Topos itself. But know this, the path you walk is one that has been chosen for you long before you arrived. There, you will find what you seek. But do not think the journey is without its price.

  The golden bark of the World Tree pulsed once more, brighter this time, as if the very essence of the Tree was responding to Syth's command.

  Rejoice, child. Find the truth at the center of all.

  And before the boy could respond, a sudden force swept over him. The cloak tightened around his body, almost guiding him forward, as the entire chamber shifted, the space warping as Syth's voice lingered in the air.

  But remember, there is no return. Not all who seek the truth are meant to find it.

  The moment the boy stepped through the gateway, his senses were assaulted by a whirlwind of lights, sounds, and strange, overpowering energies. It was nothing like he had imagined. The Center of All was not a grand temple or a cosmic nexus, it was a casino.

  Towering structures of gold and obsidian lined the streets, neon symbols flashing in a thousand languages, none of which he understood. The air was thick with a scent both sweet and rotting, and the clinking of coins mixed with deep, guttural laughter. A cacophony of voices, some whispering, some roaring, filled the space, their tones dripping with amusement, desperation, and something far more sinister.

  The creatures here were not ordinary. They were divine. And they were ill.

  Twisted figures moved through the hallways, slumped over card tables, or leaned against obsidian pillars, their forms shifting between the recognizable and the grotesque. Some had too many limbs, others none at all. Some had faces that twisted and reformed with every blink, while others were nothing but shadows wrapped in fine silk. Despite their decayed appearances, their presence exuded raw power, power that dwarfed anything the boy had ever encountered.

  He realized, with a sickening chill, that these beings were not merely gamblers or drunks.

  They were beings who exceed their limits.

  Yet, despite their condition, they still held an undeniable authority over this place. He had only been allowed in because Syth had seen something in him and granted him mercy. If not for that, he would have never made it past the threshold.

  Keeping his head low, the boy moved through the towering hallways. His cloak, sensing the unnatural energies in the air, wrapped itself tightly around his shoulders, its patterns dimly pulsing. He needed information. If there was anywhere in this nightmare that held knowledge, it would be in a library.

  He approached the first person or being that seemed remotely coherent. A massive figure hunched over a dice table, his skin cracked like dried stone, golden veins pulsing beneath the surface. The boy hesitated, then asked, "Where is the nearest library?"

  The creature barely turned its head, eyes gleaming like molten metal. When it spoke, it was in a language he didn't understand, harsh, guttural, and layered, as if multiple voices were speaking at once. The boy tried again, slower this time, but the reaction was instant.

  The rock-thing snarled.

  It slammed a fist onto the table, sending coins scattering, and barked something in the same alien tongue. Others turned to look, their distorted faces twisting in amusement, disdain, or hunger. The boy didn't wait for a second outburst, he backed away, moving deeper into the casino, vanishing into the crowd.

  Eventually, after what felt like hours of wandering through shifting halls and endless corridors, he found it.

  A building unlike the others. It had no flashing lights, no gold-laden doors. It was simple black stone with towering pillars, silent and looming. Above the entrance, engraved in letters that seemed to shift the longer he stared, was its name:

  The Archives.

  The boy exhaled and stepped inside.

  Rows upon rows of shelves stretched almost as if it was endless, filled with tomes bound in materials he didn't recognize. The air smelled of dust and something older than time itself. The boy ran his fingers along the spines of books, pulling one free.

  He opened it. The text was unreadable. A language foreign to anything he had ever seen.

  He tried another. And another. Each one bore the same impossible script.

  Frustration built in his chest. Was there nothing here he could understand? He clenched his fists, preparing to continue his search, when a voice behind him cut through the silence.

  "Looking for something you understand, sapien?"