Chrysalis

The Mother Tree had a name. At least, she’d had a name. The memory was there, vague and distant, tucked in the recesses of her mind. She could recall that she’d had feet, and hands, and eaten food, though such memories were so faint that she couldn’t really recall what it was like.

She’d done it, certainly, but how it had actually felt. That, she could no longer recall.

Birth, or rebirth, on Pangera, now that she could recall. The cold and heartless System welcome, followed by her awakening as a brand new life-form.

A plant-type monster. The sense of horror she’d felt was visceral, though now it was hard to relate to the person she’d been in that moment. Back then, the memories of being human, of being Rose, had been fresh. Trapped in a sightless, limbless form had been a nightmare. She hadn’t even had a mouth with which to scream.

Roots and leaves had seemed so foreign to her then, strange and useless. How attitudes shifted with the times. Were she offered a human body now, she would reject it out of hand. The plant was superior to the animal in every way. She’d just needed time to realise it.

[Rosa Spina.]

That had been her species. Perhaps a play on her name? Had that been enough to convince the System to reincarnate her as a plant? Or perhaps her work as a botanist had been the deciding factor.

Regardless, those early weeks had been difficult.

of the animal kingdom as brutal and heartless. They see wolves fighting, or bears clashing, or snakes stealing eggs

Tree knew better,

Every plant is locked in competition with its neighbours every second of every day in a battle that will last until

the Dungeon, that battle played out too. It was faster, but

had pushed into the wall, seeking what every plant-monster around her had been seeking: mana. The more she had, the faster she grew, the

heart the first time she had touched another of her own kind, several days after her rebirth. There had never been any

strangle that plant to death. Over a period of weeks, her roots had invaded, choking her neighbour out of the precious mana supply,

repeat

children were playing. As creatures of pure energy, they intermingled and conversed with each other using the language only those born of the same soul could understand. It warmed her cold,

they felt her gaze fall upon them, the bruan'chii danced and waved, and her spirit waved

her children. Too pure for

to losing them, she felt anger shake her branches. Even after all this time, even after all the strength and power she had accumulated, it still wasn’t enough. Without