Chapter 25: The Second Ascent

Miko:

I might be in for more than I bargained. Standing underneath this tree was dizzying. The branches started at the sixty percent mark of the tree’s height, and focusing on them from this distance almost made me lose my balance. The roots of the tree were each like small hills. Everything about a regular tree was exponentially larger with Arbor Majikae. This tree didn’t have any low branches, nor did they arc downward. All the first branches stretched out straight, with the following branches and sub-branches curving and arching upwards, creating a visual effect like looking into an opened ant bed. I moved up the tree-bark-covered hill, using my palm and legs to climb the parts that weren’t walkable when the incline was too steep. The bottom trunk of the tree was so large that the wood chips made of the outside layer of the bark were as big as I was. This would make climbing easier because the rising nature of the bark created an alternating position of each chip with space to move in between and stand on. This was like having thousands of tiny cliffs all along the tree. In my weakened form, every advantage given would be critical to success.

Grabbing above me several feet, the first piece of bark was like a rough brown shield embedded into the tree. Testing it with my weight, I jumped, pushing hard like a spring against the ground. This was enough to bring me to the separating joint between the bark pieces, but with only one arm, I had to awkwardly hold myself up by pinning my shoulder against the small platform. The position was impractical at best and wouldn’t be effective for climbing. I let the position go, landing off balance on my feet. This won’t work. My body had gained back mobility, but all that was earned was a practical form. Something capable of simple movements like walking.

I was going from a coma to a high-level athlete in one step. That was too much to handle all at once. I required a more suitable body for extraneous activities for this climb, but it wouldn’t pop out of thin air. Like my current form, this next one had to be earned. If you want to run, you have to walk first. Baby steps. Well, I can walk, so let’s start running.

Every waking hour in this place, I spent exercising. I felt silly, embarrassed even. No one was here to watch me except for Khronos, maybe, so I let those thoughts fade and continued in my exercise. Rudimentary motions would be perfect for what I was planning to attempt. They worked out the muscle groups uniformly and without prejudice. If I did them wrong, they worked the supporting muscles, which only served me more. In my current shape, any muscle was a positive. I had a long way to go, but even working out was more than I bargained for. Sure, I didn’t get tired, nor did I need to eat or drink, but with only one arm, I couldn’t even work out properly. Something as simple as push-ups became too difficult to perform. Push-ups with one arm were possible, but I was trying to get strong enough to even attempt those. The trees were low enough to do hangs and pull-ups, but the same issues arose with only having one arm to do all the work. Figuring out a way to get both my arms working has to be my next endeavor, but today, while both my legs are working, I’ll do squats and raise my heels repeatedly to work out my calves. Focusing on my body for all those tiresome months gave me a newfound comprehension of the body’s muscle groups and general anatomy. Weeks of just isolating one area in my legs and arms showed me exactly how every part works in tandem. This made working out the muscles easier because I could more accurately identify what was being used and not used. This workout repeated for hours until my calves and thighs screamed for mercy. Of course, they would receive it quickly as the “healing factor” this place offered didn’t let you work yourself tired. If I wanted to get stronger, I had to work hard in bursts and rest frequently.

Day in and day out, I practiced basic motions, increasing my leg strength and supplementing my malfunctioning arm. The moons and suns cycled out overhead while my workouts continued. After two weeks of intense workouts, the number of repetitions needed to feel improvement became too high. A stone half buried in the ground on the lower side of the root hill was loose enough for me to dislodge and just light enough for me to pick up with one arm. Then again, it was still cumbersome. My entire body had to position under it with my shoulder to keep the stone in place. The added weight of the rock removed the diminishing returns I saw with my body weight alone. Almost another two weeks of rigorous workouts and a couple of nights of sleep passed, and the stone was already not enough to satiate the burn my muscles desired.

There has to be a way to get both my arms working! It was but a brief moment, but when I first tried to stand, both my arms and legs were working together. That was immediately followed up with me passing out, but let’s ignore that. I found the most progress when I slept, unlike the trials where I seemed to worsen with each passing night. Perhaps sleep was the answer here. If I go to sleep focusing on my currently immobile arm, could it work in the morning? With exactly that notion, I laid into the soft grass- padded fields, devoid of pain and sensing only the tingling of the muscle fibers in my legs.

A new place slipped beneath my eyes as sleep swept me away. Around me was ice and rock that dragged out into the distance unfathomably. My surroundings were icy teeth, jagged at the base but forged into a point by the freezing temperatures. Maleki was in the distance, but every footstep I made towards him was futile; his body shifted forward into the desolate icy wasteland. The eyes — the ones that watch me when I get too far in or sleep too long, found me, and I awoke again sweating with my left hand grabbing my temple while I breathed into relaxation.

Well, that’s odd. The plan had worked, and my left arm was working, but that was at the cost of my right arm being immobile. Was it impossible for me to have two working arms again? This wouldn’t stop me, not now that I’ve gotten this far. If I had to strengthen my legs until they were all I needed to climb, I would make it work. However, this development interested me. I felt like I was at the tip of figuring it out or unlocking some component to this curse that I had yet to realize. When I stood tall for the first time in The Garden, I awoke with both my legs and my right arm working. My right hand was the dominant one, so that would explain why that arm worked, but why weren’t my legs affected? What was my goal? The limbs that worked must have been subconscious to some degree, so hypothetically, if I could control what worked, the problem would be eliminated or rather solved with an intricate workaround. My mind desired to walk at that time. Anywhere, but primarily to my brother and to the tree. What if the curse is meant to limit me, weaken me by only a fraction? If that’s true, one limb must always be immobile, but it doesn’t matter which one.

This was a plan. I could work with that. I couldn’t sleep right away, so I got back to work. During a run, I found a fallen branch of one of The Garden’s normal-sized trees that were heavier than the stone, so I brought it with me. The branch equalized over my shoulders and made balancing while doing squats much easier. The burn that arrived before my legs could be turned to jelly came quicker with this new method, so I worked out for four straight days until my body allowed me to sleep. Focusing on my mind, I targeted my arms and my right leg in my mind until both of my eyes were enveloped in the pitch-black darkness of sleep. When I woke, my theory had been proven. With the catalyst of sleep, I could adjust at a whim what I was capable of.

Now, it was time to start working out my arms. They needed to be able to carry all of my weight often and without strain. The end goal was for this to be possible with only a single arm, but that would take some time. My body type and age wouldn’t allow me to get bulky anyway, but that certainly wasn’t the goal. For this climb up the leviathan tree, I had to be limber, flexible, and strong all around. I employed new mechanisms of movement to isolate the muscle groups in my arms, shoulders, chest, and back. Raises, push-ups, planks, hangs, pull-ups, and curls. My starting point was noodle-shaped arms connected to a flat, wimpy chest, so the process of converting my body into an energy-efficient machine was going to be difficult, very difficult. That didn’t stop me, though. I worked through the weight and the pain and let my body heal so the process could be done again. Every day, when even my mind was exhausted from the dull plight, I pushed on and did the work because it had to be done so that I was prepared to make it up this stupidly tall tree.

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Sweat rolled down my temple, hitting my shoulders and bouncing off to the ground. The Garden had stolen three hundred and twenty-five days from me thus far. Today, my reflection stared back at me from a small pond of water that built up between the roots and the valley of trees. Rinsing my body clean of the dirt, mud, and stink that had been built up was an acknowledgment of how far I had come. My body had changed significantly in the relatively small amount of time consumed. The progress I had made would have taken four or five years of constant upkeep and nourishment to achieve outside of The Garden’s graces. With infinite stamina and my dedication to improving myself, I gained a more refined and muscular body. The muscle growth was noticeable, but I didn’t look like an elite adult soldier. In his tortured state, Maleki looked even better than I did, but I didn’t let that diminish my accomplishment. Although, that was an oddity of the effects of this place.

Every few days, I would sprint to the outer wall where we entered to check on him. His body had not worsened since we first got here. He was strong all my early childhood, and as we got older, he only continued that state since he had to carry me so often. During the trials, something dramatic happened with his form. Time had healed the wounds he had gained from the last trials, and now all that remained was his short breaths and bulky figure. What he accomplished in the trials was far more than what I had done here. That’s what kept me motivated — knowing that my goals were possible after watching him. He was also taller now than when we first arrived, a feeling I was also familiar with. My increase in height might be the only thing I surpassed him in, but even then, he was still taller than I was. We both had time left to grow and mature, and compared to our father, we looked small and feeble. Grandpa was six feet tall, but Father was just a tad taller. His form was blurred in my mind as I reached deep to remember the details. Maleki always reminded me of what he looked like when I had trouble, but all that got through to me now was a slender body and short, rough beard that was thick and full of coarse black hair. I let those thoughts fade; they didn’t matter right now as my mind prepared itself for the heights above me. Arbor Majikae, in all its glory, reached far into the distance, making me feel heavy and insignificant.

This time, I approached the wooden chip, equivalent to half the size of a wall in a house, and easily climbed its height with my first move. Both my arms easily grabbed at the gap between the thick wooden bark pieces, and fifteen feet had already passed before I knew it. Bypassing each piece of bark required me to pull all my weight up above the edge and then push up with my shoulders and forearms so that my foot could find a hold. If I had two working feet, this climb would be easy, at least compared to what Maleki had done at the foot of the mountain. The difference here is that I would be climbing a lot further. This wasn’t truly a strength or endurance trial because the climb itself would be easy for any experienced climber. The real challenge was the exponential rate of failure. It wasn’t if you made a mistake; it was when. What Khronos said about the trials at the very start would be my focus here. Slow and steady.

When the outermost layer of the tree was too tall and flat in one section for me to climb, I’d grab onto the ledge, holding myself up with only my hands, and then carry my weight over, positioning my hand over one reach at a time until the area above me was more suitable to climb. I could circle the entirety of the tree, hoping for the perfect spot each time, but hanging over the edge was not ideal, and I did my best not to look down as it was. My eyes stayed fixed on everything above me. Heights made me want to spill my guts out. A new fear I had unlocked during our descent on that stupendously tall mountain. I had gone my whole life without ever being up high, and I certainly wasn’t missing out. Now, here I was, fifty feet above the ground, climbing to what would undoubtedly be my untimely doom. If this tree doesn’t knock me off, something at the top is bound to. If not due to my own negligence.

Those fears resided, and I was left to focus on my task. My fingers and palms scraped against the rough bark, becoming quickly calloused by the firm grip that was required to be maintained while holding myself up. There was an odd calmness in the air and my mind while I jumped around the tree. Is this what Maleki felt during his ascent? Oh, what I would give for us to do this together or not to have to do this at all.

Part of me wishes that I could have figured this curse out back on the farm; I had all the tools necessary to get better. They were all in this head of mine. Although, I’m not sure I could have ever slipped out of that mopey coma without experiencing all of this. Heartache and trauma, are they the only catalysts of change? A true change, I mean. Can a person really change who they are? You can appear different to other people, almost like a lie, but not only do you lie to the other person, you lie to yourself. Mostly, it is subconscious, like when I speak to my brother versus speaking to Khronos. Whether it is intentional or not, that’s just an outward appearance. The type of change I am interested in is the type that happens on the inside, the thoughts the mind and soul are only partial to. Could our father change? Can I prevent myself from becoming like him? His face was difficult to find at times, but his actions were too hard to forget. They embedded into my mind like a parasite, coming to the surface when I almost find peace in my mind’s storm. Our father was both bitter and sweet, but like an animal, he was quick to react. We never were sure what would set him off, but he would rage about until his senses returned, profusely apologizing for actions he committed while conscious. Recently, I found myself thinking more and more about those days with him and our mother before they left. I was too young to remember and too old to forget. They left us behind either for their own selfish guilt, or perhaps they thought they were doing the right thing, protecting us from themselves. I spent four years without my parents before we left the farm, and I’m not sure I miss them. For a time, I had, but Maleki and I were stronger without them. Their lie was that they were going to find a cure for me, but the ingredients and letters slowed after the first year of their being gone. Maybe I will understand their decisions more when I’m older.

I had let my mind wander again, losing focus, and my foot slipped trying to find a hold suitable on the bark panels as a wooden ridge broke. After the first hundred feet, my climbing tactic changed to fit my surroundings. Instead of skipping over the bark chips and climbing the joints, I could climb the ridges that jutted randomly around each plate. They were like snowflakes or paint that flicked onto a canvas, completely different from the other, and each one offered a route that changed in complexity. Two steps were all that was needed on each of these bark panels to move onto the joint holds. I was weary of the durability of these bark ridges, as climbing on them did not make me as confident as having my full weight over the joints between the plates. Moving quickly so my weight didn’t settle was the best option when climbing this way. This momentum protected me, moving me forward in the event one of these ridges broke. Had I settled on them as they broke, I would have fallen to my death, seeing as there is nothing below me to protect my fall. You can at least tumble down a mountain, but climbing this trunk was different. There was no other angle other than straight above and straight down. Now that I think about it, that might actually be a positive aspect of this style of climbing. The fear and pain would be quick until I splat against The Garden’s floor, whilst tumbling down a mountain was either certain death or it would leave you wishing you had died. I was starting to think like Maleki now, always finding the positive side of things.