Taseko

The worn wood of the apple stick, smooth under their palm, still smelled faintly of orchard blossoms. In their first life, it was for knocking down fruit, a simple tool for a simple task. Then came the low hum from deep in the earth, a sound only they and Kikutarou seemed to hear. Together they dug, unearthing a shard of obsidian that whispered when held. It didn't speak of spirits or gods, but of the silent, hungry spaces between them. Kikutarou saw power; Taseko saw a pattern, a truth no one else wanted. They stand now in The Crystal Highlands of Armaria, the great monoliths resonating with that same hum, a thousand times louder. The stick is no longer for harvesting. Pressed against a humming crystal, its tip glows with unsettling light.