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History. Everyone. The Rainlords in their totality.

She could hardly believe what she was perceiving, right now. If homesickness was something that could be cured in an instant, then this might be the way it was accomplished.

She felt such familiarity and warmth. Indescribable to anyone who might’ve asked her.

But she did understand something like never before.

This was what madega trees were. What they were for. Why they’d been created.

Yes.

This was also why their physical characteristics could vary. Sure, the color of their leaves was always the same, but the shape was not. Some were long and thin, others flat and wide, while still others were small and angular.

It wasn’t just variance in the genus to which they belonged. It was because all madegas were, in fact, conversions of other dendrological subjects. Even the Great Madega Tree in the heart of Aguarey. That, too, had once been a different species.

How long ago?

Millennia.

She could see it. She could see them. The most ancient of her ancestors.

The Armans.

From so many angles. So many lives. Moments of love. Moments of strife. Families together in their homes. Battlefields ablaze. Laughter. Explosions. Was that Red Lake Castle being built?

Emiliana wanted to pause and watch it all. Sort through it in fine detail. But it was all too ephemeral. Too hard to latch onto with her mind.

Were you in there, Agam? You had to be, didn’t you? Even if your consciousness wasn’t there, your history must’ve still been visible. If she could just find it...

Agh.

Maybe if this tree was a madega. Maybe if she could transform it. Mutate it. Bend the world to her will. Her power.

It felt possible. She didn’t know why or how, but it felt that way.

She opened her eyes. She didn’t recall closing them, but it didn’t matter. The tree. She looked at the tree anew. Had it changed? Had she mutated it?

...No.

It looked entirely the same.

Same smooth, white bark. Same green leaves. Same feeling against her hand. Same presence in her mind.

Disappointment filled her head, pushing out everything else. Of course it hadn’t worked. When did anything go the way she wanted? She hadn’t even known what she was doing in the first place. All that studying she’d done, and for what? In the end, she’d just been moving according to her feelings. No reasoning. No logic.

Just wandering in the dark, trying not to bump into walls.

Her hand left the tree and found her forehead, instead.