Chris slowly woke with a groan from a fitful sleep in a cold sweat, noticing the sun shining through his window. It took a few groggy moments for him to recognize the unfamiliar room before reality once more settled in, causing his hands to shake before he managed to force it back down.
"Damn it. I thought it was all just a bad dream." He whispered softly after taking a few deep breaths to try and calm himself down before getting up, moving the stool from the door, and cautiously opening it.
He couldn't describe the relief at seeing nothing around before carefully walking out to the old man's hut, knocking on the door and waiting for it to open. When there was no response, he sighed with a frown and went to the storeroom, taking a few small pieces of meat and a small cup of water. "Heh, what a meal, but it's better than nothing. It just means I will need to grow some good and proper food. I wonder if magic can grow meat in this world." He rambled, taking a few more pieces of dried meat that didn't look too bad along with another cup of water before going back to his room.
His gaze soon fell on the bag of seeds and the soil as that small, poisonous whisper urged him to try again, to try and create something that could shield him, protect the small village, and would act as a mighty guardian. He tried to ignore it, but the thought rooted deeper as fear sent a shiver down his spine, the dog's howl echoing in his mind.
Before he could talk himself out of it, before he even realized it, he seemed to have already taken another seed and a lot more soil than before in his hand, his feet already taking him to one of the other huts. "I can't risk something happening if it takes a long time to grow, and the old man said the doors will hold, so it should be safe to use an empty house as a safe greenhouse." He tried to reason.
After a short trip to the storeroom and grabbing a small rusted dagger, he entered one of the vacant huts, using the dagger to break the top layer of sand to a somewhat softer but dry and dusty sand below. He didn't care, though; he dug a small hole in the center of the room before using the soil he brought to line it, gently rested the seed in the center, then used the last bit of water from his cup to gently splash over it. To his surprise, the soil faintly began to shimmer.
"Yes! It worked! Finally, this stupid skill worked! My protector is finally growing!" he yelled excitedly.
"Damn it, lad, didn't I tell you we would work together and be smart about this? Why are you doing stuff on your own again and in one of the huts of all places!" The old man's voice carried over from the door, clearly far from happy.
"I… look, it's working this time! I just needed more soil, and—" The spike of pain that filled his head caused him to grab it and let out a strangled cry.
"Lad!" The old man shouted with concern as he rushed over. "What's happened? Damn it! Talk to me, boy! This is why I told you we would discuss and plan this out first!"
"I… it's screaming? It's not getting enough of something, and now it's crying loudly and asking for life! But I don't know what that even means!" he said shakily, looking at the tiny green sprout poking out of the soil with panic as it slowly began to turn yellow, its growth slowing as it formed its first leaf that soon began to curl in on itself.
"What plant, lad? What the heck did you try to grow!" The old man ordered, looking between him and the small sprout with clear concern and frustration.
"A world tree? In fictional works back home and myth, it's a big tree that's a protector, and in myth it connected worlds, something godly and mythical apparently, and seen as a symbol of life and protection. I, I thought it would be a good protector to keep the beasts away and keep us, me safe..."
His response had the old man cursing, using words he had never heard before as he seemed to rush out as fast as he could. The crying and pleading grew louder, making his ears ring before the old man returned with a full cup of water that he hastily poured a portion over the sprout before taking the fallen dagger Chris used to dig the hole.
Before he could question what the old man was doing, he felt the old man grab his hand and slice his palm open, making him let out a hiss of pain. It broke him momentarily from the cries in his head. The old man squeezed his hand, causing the blood to run into the cup of water, filling it up and turning it from clear to a pinkish-red color that he soon began to pour over the plant once more. He didn't notice the words the old man seemed to be muttering softly.
The little sprout slowly began to turn green, its stem thickened slightly as it grew a bit taller, a few more leaves developing across it, including a small branch. "It's not screaming anymore." Chris finally said, the pressure in his head lightening somewhat as he looked suspiciously at the old man. "Instead, it's thanking me and yawning? It's asking for some more like a child would for more cookies? What did you do? How did you even know that would work?" Chris asked while holding his bleeding palm.
At hearing that, the old man didn't immediately answer, instead gripping his bleeding hand from his grip and having him drip a small, steady stream of blood onto the sapling. "Lad, you said it's something godly." He began slowly, his eyes hard as stone as he spoke with frustration. "Stuff like that always comes with some kind of sacrifice! You said it was asking for life? The closest thing I could think of was blood; it's the liquid life of a person. It's supposed to be linked to the spiritual mumbo jumbo stuff a lot of priests believe in." He could practically feel the disdain in the old man's voice.
Considering the nature of magic, though, they might hold some truth. This thing here more than likely took a few years off you. The only good side I can see, though, is that it might not need to do something so drastic for a while."
The words caused Chris to pale, realizing he had given his life in a far more literal sense to the small tree. "Will… do you think it will cost me years of life each time I grow something? As a price or consequence to growing these seeds?" he asked in a scared whisper.
"Don't be stupid, lad. This… thing only took so much and needed your blood to deepen its connection because of what you're making it become. What you're trying to bring into the world..." He seemed unsure but soon locked his eyes onto Chris.
"It's something with its own rules and laws, lad; that's why it took so much to take root, why it needed 'life' just to be birthed into the world. It's something that shouldn't exist yet does, and it may still take more from you."
His words caused Chris to go quiet, looking at the sapling with guilt, worry, and hints of fear. "I knocked on your door, but there was no reply," he tried to explain, earning a dismissive snort. "Because I was out laying some meat to avoid us having another mutt or worse come by when we tried to grow your plants. I told you yesterday they were getting more active." The words caused him to feel a bit worse now.
He should have just waited, been patient, and worked with the old man when he came by like they agreed to do. "I'm sorry…" he finally whispered, earning a light smack against the leg from the old man's walking stick.
"Suck it up. The fact you lost a few years and the gash on your palm is consequence enough; it will be your reminder to stop being so stupid. Now, you said it was talking? That you heard its voice? What did it sound like? What's it saying now?"