Yutzen

"The following was retrieved from Voska Empire performers; I compiled the details of multiple versions together as best I could, but the main structure and figures of the story were provided by the Trimak Brothers’ Troupe, who, to my judgment, had the most solid versions. I say versions, plural, because each of the three provided me with a slightly different version and refused to offer any input on which one was closest to the original, finding the very idea “absurd”.
Nevertheless, the patterns of variation indicate this story was passed on as verbal tradition from the start, with almost all physical artwork on the matter (such as murals, runic markings and so on) seemingly left behind during the Toskars’ Refuging; what’s left often references specific figures in oblique manners. However, as incursions into the Downpour continue, reports on said artwork may come by me, which will be reported alongside any relevant findings in the next edition of this work."

Beyond the our land’s[1] horizon, far beyond anything our eyes could see, a great Kavru[2] tree stands.

A tree of heights we cannot yet conceive, a tree where each and every leaf is another horizon, but a tree nonetheless, with roots, seeds and bark like any other. It is upon its branches that our domain, and so many others, rest, swaying in the winds from beyond. Our land rests upon a single twig of countless many, a twig greater than the sky, so vast even reaching the branch it’s born from would take you and me a million lifetimes. And yet, this Tree of Horizons is such that the closest world to ours, the nearest leaf, is so far into the distance not even the sharpest of eyes would ever see it. Entire lands aloft, unreachable and unseen to us, forming the green of its titanic crown.

We are not alone upon this tree either, even outside the worlds. Insects fly and crawl to it, like they would with any other tree, shaping a realm of their own in unimaginable scale. It has its colorful fliers[3], flitting from flower to flower to feed on its offerings. It has its sap-suckers[3], poking into bark and leaves to drain the faintest traces of lifeblood from its veins. And of course, there’s the myriad crawlers and slitherers[3], for which the Tree of Horizons is just a refuge, a place of solace from the forces that lie beyond.

These are creatures far beyond us, even in their simplest of acts they could tear our nation apart without realizing it; they would barely even know we exist. In their feeding, they may often breach the Horizons, sucking the life out of entire worlds to sate their hunger without ever knowing who dwelled on them. They may also nourish them, spreading gifts from flower to flower, letting the leaves nearby swell with vitality in turn… But most of all, in their aimless wandering, they oft step upon the worlds, rattling them in their passage, and each world handles such jostling very differently. From a simple, slithering passage to the battle of two great horned suitors, the Realms must handle their passing in whichever way works best. And throughout it all, they would know nothing of us… And if they ever did, we would get no sign of it. Such is the life that surrounds every tree, even the ones we know.

But there is one more creature, quite unlike the rest. Neither a crawler, nor a flier, nor a slitherer, but a tunneler[4], that never once touches the live bark of the Tree of Horizons, for it doesn’t need to.

How would such a thing work, you ask? You see, every tree needs soil to grow upon, and the Tree of Horizons is no exception. We will never know its expanse, not in a billion lifetimes, but we know the soil runs very deep indeed… Deep enough to bury and conceal the ancient, putrid log of another, long-dead tree[5], far enough into the earth that the live roots won’t touch it.

This log has been buried there since the Tree of Horizons was young, and the old tree that it once was… Why, that could’ve been there eons before whatever pit that sprouted it was laid to rest. It no longer holds Horizons of its own, and one can only imagine the thousands, if not millions of realms that once adorned its long-dead branches. In its heyday, it may have been greater than even our Tree; such is its size that even the putrid pockets of rotting wood within are greater than any world, living off the decay rather than the nourishing sap of a living tree. Just the flakes of bark that slough off its surface into the dirt could sustain entire civilizations for centuries on end. It is because of this log that the Tree of Horizons is as lively as it is, growing on the rich soil left by its decay. For the wood and sap that sustain and feed entire worlds… Why, such things are too lively to simply disappear.

But this old tree, or what’s left of it, has no visitors, and only one inhabitant that anyone knows of. A tunneler, as I said, sifting through the ground around it and making sure it rots away as it should. An endless, coiling Worm, carving holes into the trunk and scraping off the rotting wood. An unfathomable creature, feeding off the putridity of ages long past so that the Tree may be fed in turn. The log will be there for ages upon ages, slowly eaten away by time and the Worm, until there is nothing left but soil to feed the tree – at least, if the Tree of Horizons lives that long to begin with.

However, the Worm is there for all that dies, as Worms are wont to do, and the old log isn’t the only thing it feasts on. In fact, it has a certain taste for fresh death, for that which has only recently passed on, and even that which is merely dying… Such as those unfortunate leaves that fall from the Tree of Horizons. Whether plucked or dried off their branch by meddlesome insects, or done in from the worlds they hold within them, their fall calls to the tunneler beneath, who rushes through the soil to devour the leaf that’s fallen, returning it to the earth, along with all within it…

Or rather, most within it. For this Worm, too, is far too huge to take any particular notice of us. And if it ever noticed us, it has never given any sign of such. Its feast is a chaotic process, breaching barriers and scattering fragments all about. The once-unbreachable Horizon is pierced by its countless teeth and bottomless hunger… And those within it that are willing and able, those that can cross the vast distances in time and find the right places to escape? Said fortunate souls can climb upon its skin, and if they latch on firmly enough, ride their way out of the End. Away from the Tree of Horizons, away from their devoured world, and into the soil, dragged off by their unwitting steed.

What happens to said souls is a question that remains unanswered. But we know the Worm will return to the old log soon enough to continue its ancient task, never once knowing how many passengers it carried on its hide. The rotten pockets within must be so utterly different from every realm that still rests upon the living tree, that one wonders if they could even survive in there, let alone thrive. But… Perhaps they do. Perhaps there is just enough of every dead leaf that once held an entire world, strewn about and infused into the very soil. Perhaps there is enough life in the old, wooden carcass yet, the same life that sustained entire realms, to hold such refugees just a little longer. We may never know.

All we know is, if such survivors existed… They would be living on the blind spots of giants, much as we are. And while you may think such an existence is disgraceful, feeding off the rot of what was once alive and grand… We have no room to question, for the Tree of Horizons, to which we owe our very existence, is much the same.

[1]Recitations by figures I was able to identify date this story to pre-Subterraneum times
[2]Species of tree; most biological and anatomical details were lost, but I was able to find references to them growing to great size, as well as a certain resemblance to Pyrefeather
[3]I translated here from specific species names to more recognizable categories; different versions often used different species
[4]Direct translation
[5]While a few versions specify this is another Kavru tree, well over three fourths either didn’t specify or outright stated it was an unknown species.

-Excerpt from "Who is the Lord Below? A Treatise on the Radiant and Cthonic", authored by 'the Ever-Restless Nirrhamidh' (assumed pseudonym; author not yet identified)