The tiny green sprout swayed gently beneath the endless canopy of the World Tree.
It was so small that Kael could have hidden it beneath a single finger. Two delicate emerald leaves stretched toward the silver light flowing through the heart of the ancient tree, trembling slightly as though they had only just awakened from a very long dream.
The enormous chamber surrounding it remained perfectly silent.
Living roots thicker than castles climbed endlessly toward the heavens while rivers of glowing silver sap flowed quietly through the walls, illuminating the vast chamber with a warm radiance. Countless stars drifted lazily among transparent branches high above, their reflections dancing across polished wooden floors that seemed to breathe with the heartbeat of the World Tree itself.
At the center of everything stood the simple wooden chair.
The Gardener's Throne.
It wasn't magnificent.
It wasn't covered with jewels or ancient runes.
It looked like something a loving grandfather might build beneath an old oak tree after years of careful work.
Its armrests had been smoothed by countless hands.
Tiny scratches marked the backrest.
One leg had clearly been repaired long ago with a different kind of wood.
It wasn't perfect.
It had been used.
That somehow made it more beautiful.
Kael slowly knelt beside the tiny sprout.
Old Rowan's laughter still echoed faintly through the chamber.
*"Before worrying about ancient destinies... water the new plant first."*
A smile slowly appeared on Kael's face.
Even after three thousand years...
The old gardener still cared more about a tiny plant than the fate of worlds.
Kael looked around.
There was no watering can nearby.
No tools.
Only silence.
Then he noticed something.
A narrow stream of silver sap flowed gently through a shallow channel carved into the floor several steps away.
Without hesitation, he cupped both hands together.
The glowing liquid felt surprisingly cool.
It carried the faint fragrance of rain after a long summer.
Carefully...
He carried a small amount back toward the tiny sprout.
Every movement felt instinctive.
Slow.
Gentle.
Patient.
He poured the silver water onto the roots.
The tiny plant immediately straightened.
Its leaves unfolded completely.
A third leaf slowly appeared.
Then...
The chamber responded.
The heartbeat of the World Tree echoed once.
Every living root surrounding the enormous chamber shimmered with silver light.
Another heartbeat.
The stars above brightened.
Another.
The wooden chair quietly released countless tiny particles of light that drifted through the air before disappearing into the growing sprout.
Kael watched quietly.
He wasn't witnessing magic.
He was witnessing care.
A warm voice suddenly filled the chamber.
"You remembered."
Kael turned.
Old Rowan stood near one of the massive roots with his familiar watering can resting against his shoulder.
The old gardener smiled proudly.
"I was hoping you would."
Kael looked surprised.
"I thought I was alone."
"You are."
Old Rowan laughed.
"And you aren't."
Seeing Kael's confused expression, he continued.
"The real me is outside."
He gently tapped his own forehead.
"This place simply remembers me."
Kael slowly nodded.
"A memory."
"A very stubborn one."
The old gardener walked toward the tiny sprout before kneeling beside it.
He carefully examined the little plant.
"Healthy roots."
He smiled.
"Good."
Kael looked toward him.
"I have a question."
"You always do."
"Why is the throne here?"
Old Rowan looked toward the simple wooden chair.
His expression became thoughtful.
"What do you think a throne is?"
Kael answered honestly.
"A seat for rulers."
The old gardener shook his head.
"No."
He slowly stood before the chair.
"A throne..."
His weathered fingers gently brushed the worn backrest.
"...is simply the place where someone chooses to carry responsibility."
Silence settled over the chamber.
Old Rowan smiled.
"The world confused responsibility with authority a very long time ago."
He looked directly into Kael's eyes.
"So people started decorating chairs."
Kael couldn't help smiling.
The old gardener continued.
"This chair was built by five children."
Kael blinked.
"Children?"
Old Rowan nodded.
"They insisted every garden needed somewhere people could rest."
He laughed quietly.
"It wasn't meant to become important."
He gently tapped one repaired leg.
"See this?"
Kael nodded.
"The Fourth Brother broke it."
"How?"
"He jumped off the World Tree trying to impress everyone."
Kael sighed.
"That sounds like him."
"It absolutely does."
Both of them laughed.
The chamber itself seemed brighter afterward.
Old Rowan slowly became serious again.
"Sit."
Kael looked toward the chair.
"I don't think I should."
"Why?"
"It doesn't belong to me."
Old Rowan smiled warmly.
"Good answer."
Silence followed.
The old gardener folded his arms.
"Now tell me..."
His eyes twinkled mischievously.
"If nobody sat there..."
He pointed toward the chair.
"...who would water the plants around it?"
Kael looked down.
Tiny flowers surrounded the simple chair.
Dozens of them.
Some had begun wilting.
Without another word...
He knelt beside them.
One by one...
He carefully loosened the soil.
Straightened bent stems.
Removed dried leaves.
He completely forgot about the chair.
Minutes passed peacefully.
Old Rowan quietly watched without interrupting.
Eventually...
The old gardener smiled.
"You've already answered."
Kael looked up.
"What do you mean?"
"You never wanted the throne."
He pointed toward the healthy flowers.
"You noticed the garden first."
The heartbeat of the World Tree echoed once again.
This time...
The simple wooden chair slowly moved.
Not dramatically.
It gently turned until it faced Kael.
The polished wood shimmered softly beneath the endless silver light.
Then...
Roots slowly emerged from beneath it.
Instead of anchoring it to the floor...
They spread outward.
Surrounding every flower.
Protecting every tiny sprout.
Kael suddenly understood.
The throne wasn't placed in the garden.
It had always been...
Part of it.
Old Rowan nodded proudly.
"Exactly."
The ancient gardener slowly stepped backward.
His body had already begun becoming transparent.
"This memory won't remain much longer."
Kael immediately stood.
"I still have so many questions."
"I know."
Old Rowan smiled.
"But answers grow better..."
His fading eyes looked toward the healthy little sprout.
"...when people discover them themselves."
The old gardener slowly raised one weathered hand.
Before disappearing completely...
He spoke one final sentence.
"Never forget, Kael..."
For the first time...
He spoke his current name instead of the forgotten one.
"It doesn't matter how large your garden becomes."
His smile remained as gentle as ever.
"If you stop noticing the smallest flower..."
His body dissolved into countless silver leaves carried gently into the endless branches above.
"...then you've already lost your way."
Silence returned.
Kael remained alone once more.
The little sprout continued growing peacefully.
The flowers surrounding the chair bloomed brighter than ever.
Then...
The entire chamber trembled.
Not with fear.
With recognition.
The simple wooden chair slowly released a single silver key hidden beneath its seat.
Unlike every key Kael had seen before...
This one wasn't made of metal.
It had grown from living wood.
Its surface still carried tiny green leaves.
As Kael reached toward it...
A deep voice echoed throughout the heart of the World Tree.
"The Second Lock is complete."
Before he could touch the wooden key...
A second voice answered from somewhere beyond the chamber.
Cold.
Ancient.
Patient.
"The Third Lock is waiting."