,,<<script>>document.querySelector(".cta").style.display="none";<</script>><div class="center-me">
<span>//the hanging heart// was developed by raindev for the ranked if game jam organized by interact-if.</span>
[[begin|placeholder]]</div><<script>>document.querySelector(".cta").style.display="inline";<</script>>The hungering tree stands tall on the hill beyond the village.
Its skeletal branches cast long shadows on the moss-covered rooftops, fingers creeping up the stone and wood to brush against the fires hidden by shuttered windows. A part of you knows it can’t be true - the tree isn’t big enough, the village is well beyond its reach, and as much as the sun moves through the sky, the slithering shadows don’t stray from their path. But your eyes do not deceive you. Impossible as it is, the hungering tree //hungers//.
The villagers pretend they can’t see it. They go about their lives, ignoring the beast hanging against the horizon, its red and gold leaves whispering on the wind. You do the same, but the tree is always on the edge of your vision, always pulling at your consciousness, demanding your attention. You are unable to ignore it, to turn away, to seek meaning and purpose elsewhere.
You think you hunger for it just as much it does for your feeble, weak mortal mind.
“It was an angel once,” the old man is saying when you enter the tavern one morning. No one turns to him - the story is almost as old as the man himself, and you’ve all heard it before. Still, his words ring in your ears, sinking deep into your mind. “Back when the heavens were still aflame. Fell from the sky, the angel did. I saw it with my own eyes, wings torn to shreds, gold blood sizzling when it touched the earth. That fell thing blossomed from its chest, it did. Its heart is still there, beating in its branches.”
The old man’ eyes meet yours and he stops, turning away, hand clutching his own heart, a green, mirrored thing hanging from a silver chain around his neck. Other gazes follow you as you buy your food, only letting go of you when the door is closed behind your back. The hollowness inside your chest echoes where a heart should beat, where blood should flow. Around the market you spie the villagers with their own hearts tied to their bracelets or tucked away in their pockets, their own source of life and humanity on display for all to see.
You’ve always lacked [[yours|the tree]].<<script>>document.querySelector(".cta").style.display="none";<</script>><div class="links"><a href="https://raindev.tumblr.com/"><img src="tumblr_icon.png"/></a><a href="https://twitter.com/raininthewoods"><img src="twitter_icon.png"/></a></div><h1>the hanging heart</h1><div class="start">[[reach for the heart|intro]]</div><div class="saves"><<link 'tinker with your memories'>><<script>>UI.saves()<</script>><</link>></div><div class="settings"><<link 'adjust your vision'>><<script>>UI.settings()<</script>><</link>></div>
<<set $location = "the hungering tree">>Maybe that’s why the tree fascinates you so. Why, for as long as you can remember, you’ve come here, to its domain, to watch from beyond the wooden fence that protects the outside world from its magnetic aura. The old man is right - a heart hangs from one of the lower branches, shimmering in red and gold. A few tried to steal it long ago, before the fence was built, when the tree was more a novelty than a danger. The tree devoured their minds, of course, feasting on their dreams and secrets as one would suck on bone marrow.
Very little remained of the would be thieves. No ambition, no sorrow, no happiness, no laughter. They died soon after, the rot in their souls eventually destroying their perfectly healthy bodies. The barbed fence was built then.
Your fingers brush against the old wood, feeling its little imperfections against your skin. A sharp edge snags at your flesh and blood blooms. You smell copper and feel, deep inside your hollow chest, the hungering tree sigh. The heart glimmers against the night sky, burning as crimson as the blood in your veins.
You close your eyes.
<div class="choices">[[Jump the fence. The heart will be yours.|the songbird][$turned_back = false; $climbed_fence = true]]
[[Turn back. The price is too high… for now.|the guardian][$turned_back = true; $climbed_fence = false]]</div>
You are moving before you realize you’ve made your choice. You climb the barbed fence, ignoring the way its sharp edges pierce your skin, and haul yourself over to the other side. Your land quietly, fingers brushing against the soft grass growing around the hungering tree. The hanging heart is a constant on the edge of your vision, but you pause, willing yourself to focus.
You’ve never been this close to it before.
You take off your shoes, savoring the feeling of the earth beneath your feet. The tree’s pull is a presence against your skin, a calling inside your head. You lick your lips, breathing hard, and move forward.
Every step takes ages. You feel the tree’s branches against your flesh, caressing your cheekbones, tangling themselves in your hair, but it’s always as shadows in the corner of your eye, disappearing in thin air once you try to focus on them. But you //feel// them. They are //real//. //Welcome//, they seem to say. //Welcome back//.
//back.
back. back. back.
b-//
You blink. You’ve stopped. The tree is right in front of you, its bone-white bark so clear in the middle of the night it almost seems to emit light. Its many branches reach for the skies above, desperate, longing. //Like the old man’s story//, you think, mind muddled, sounds faint, vision faltering. //A fallen angel yearning for the heavens even after death.//
“It will suck you dry,” a voice says, shattering the illusion. “If you are not [[careful|the songbird 2]].”Your fingers tighten against the fence for a moment and then let go. Slowly, almost as if fighting your own body, you turn away to face the village down the slope; from here, it’s nothing more than half a dozen lights lost in the dark, solitary flames struggling against the mantle of the night. Everyone is asleep now, hiding away from the hungering tree and the hanging heart inside their small, pathetic little homes, and…
You take a deep breath, hand rubbing against your hollow chest. These thoughts are beneath you, you remind yourself. This ache is nothing but a reminder of all you’ve yet to achieve - all you can and //will// achieve.
You stumble forward, jaw clenched so tight the pain irradiates down your neck and beyond your ears.
“//You//.”
Fingers close around your wrist and you go still, the feeling of leather against your skin freezing you on the spot. You can’t remember the last time someone willingly touched you, hands gloved or not; no one in the village will as much as approach you, let alone risk a touch. But you //know// this voice…
The first thing you notice are their eyes. A startling shade of green, always burning with some emotion or other - anger now, you think, as it always is when it comes to you - and shining in the darkness like the eyes of a beast. Under the faint light of the moon and of the hungering tree behind you, you can make out their uniform, black pants and boots, black shirt, black gloves.
The [[guardian|the guardian 2]].//They are not from here//, a voice whispers in your mind, and you almost laugh. Of course they aren’t. No one is, really - this village, like many others, sprung to life with the remnants of the war of the angels, the battered souls that escaped the bloody aftermath of a battle that wasn’t theirs. The guardian is just another like them, like you even, a stranger blown by winds outside of their control until they landed here, in this patch of land that would be insignificant if not for the tree.
But their eyes…
//Eyes of a beast//, you think. Maybe you are right.
You gaze at their closed hand around your wrist and they do the same. After a charged, almost painful pause, they let go of you as if burned, flexing their fingers and then hiding them behind their back. You purse your lips, trying to ignore the bolt of hurt spreading through your hollow chest, but it has a vicious, beastly strength, not easily pushed aside. You scowl.
“Don’t approach the tree,” the guardian finally says, voice even, almost calm, but they don’t fool you. Their anger pushes against your skin like a living thing. You can almost taste it on your tongue. “You will doom us all with your recklessness.”
You frown, hurt suddenly swallowed by outrage.
<div class="choices">[[“Doom us all?” you spit back. “The only life I’m gambling with is mine, and mine alone. What do you even mean?”|the guardian 3A][$guardian_points += 1]]
[[Swallow your outrage too. Nothing good comes from disagreeing with the village guardian, especially not here, so close to the hungering tree.|the guardian 3B]]</div>
The guardian’s laugh echoes in your ears. It’s a terrible sound, a music played just wrong enough to unsettle. “That’s what you always think. But you are always wrong. Leave.”
“What are you even…?” you begin, but the expression on their face steals away your voice. The whole world falls silent; even the hungering tree’s soft humming disappears, suffocated by realization of something //more//, something deep and ancient and forgotten, now buzzing in the air between both of you.
Then you blink and the situation passes. The guardian looks away - from you, from the tree, even from the village. “//Leave//.”
A pause, threatening to once again unveil that something, that hidden, terrible thing just outside your comprehension. But you obey. You turn and you leave.
You walk in silence back to the village, wondering why you feel like you’ve given up on something beyond the hanging heart this [[night|bottleneck]].You force down the bitter words, scowling at their taste, and stare back at the guardian’s terrible green eyes. They stare back, and for a moment the whole world falls silent; even the hungering tree’s soft humming disappears, suffocated by realization of something //more//, something deep and ancient and forgotten, now buzzing in the air between both of you.
Then you blink and the situation passes. The guardian looks away - from you, from the tree, even from the village. “Go. Stay away from this place.”
A pause, threatening to once again unveil that something, that hidden, terrible thing just outside your comprehension. But you obey. You turn and you leave.
You walk in silence back to the village, wondering why you feel like you’ve given up on something beyond the hanging heart this [[night|bottleneck]].<<set $location = "home">>The sun finds you awake the morning after, its still soft light illuminating your room through the open window. You sit, legs dangling off the bed, and your hand finds its way to your chest, rubbing at the skin under where your heart should be. The previous night lurks inside your mind, poisonous, like a river pushing against earth and stone to carve a new path. The sensation is familiar to you; a life lost to the breaking of the world raging against its oblivion, fighting to be remembered once again.
A shiver runs down your spine and you close your eyes. Everyone in the village has forgotten something about their past life. It’s just the way things are now, after the angels all but killed themselves in their senseless war. Forces of nature and strong beyond belief, their fighting broke everything, from the mountains to the rivers to the minds of mortals like you, maybe even time itself. The world lost much. Its people lost even more.
But none lost as much as you. No memory, no heart, not even your own name. You woke up to skies on fire and stars falling from the heavens with nothing but a deep, crushing sense of loss, and no one to answer your questions or guide you in this new life.
But there are people here who know more than they should. The guardian. <<if $turned_back is false and $climbed_fence is true>>The songbird.<</if>> Maybe the villagers. You’re not sure.
You stand up, hand still over your hollow chest.
<<if $turned_back is false and $climbed_fence is true>>It’s time to find out what they are [[hiding|hub2]].<<else>>It’s time to find out what they are [[hiding|hub3]].<</if>>
<div class="exploration">
<div class="map"></div>
<div class="content">
<span id="tavern"><<if $visited_tavern is true>>==The Tavern==<<else>>[[The Tavern|tavern guardian confirmation]]<</if>></span>
<span id="tree"><<if $visited_tree is true>>==The Hungering Tree==<<else>>[[The Hungering Tree|hungering tree guardian confirmation]]<</if>></span>
<span id="cove"><<if $visited_cove is true>>==The Painted Cove==<<else>>[[The Painted Cove|guardian cove confirmation]]<</if>></span>
</div></div>
<<script>>
setTimeout(function() {
const map = document.querySelector(".map");
const tavern = document.querySelector("#tavern");
const cove = document.querySelector("#cove");
const tree = document.querySelector("#tree");
console.log(tavern)
document.querySelector("#tavern").addEventListener("mouseover", showMapTavern);
tavern.addEventListener("mouseout", hideMapTavern);
cove.addEventListener("mouseover", showMapCove);
cove.addEventListener("mouseout", hideMapCove);
tree.addEventListener("mouseover", showMapTree);
tree.addEventListener("mouseout", hideMapTree);
function showMapTavern() {
map.style.backgroundImage = "url('the_guardian_map_tavern.png')";
map.style.backgroundSize = "100% 100%";
}
function hideMapTavern() {
map.style.backgroundImage = "url('the_guardian_map.png')";
map.style.backgroundSize = "100% 100%";
}
function showMapCove() {
map.style.backgroundImage = "url('the_guardian_map_cove.png')";
map.style.backgroundSize = "100% 100%";
}
function hideMapCove() {
map.style.backgroundImage = "url('the_guardian_map.png')";
map.style.backgroundSize = "100% 100%";
}
function showMapTree() {
map.style.backgroundImage = "url('the_guardian_map_tree.png')";
map.style.backgroundSize = "100% 100%";
}
function hideMapTree() {
map.style.backgroundImage = "url('the_guardian_map.png')";
map.style.backgroundSize = "100% 100%";
}
}, 1000)
<</script>><<set $location = "home">>That night, you dream you are making flowers out of ink.
Your partner drew them for you not many hours ago. They decorate your skin, from shoulder to back, a complex swirl of leaves and petals, too exaggerated, which - you can’t help but smile - is just like them. The newly-created flowers stand tall, perfect, in your hands as you inspect them. None of them crumble to dust. None has for many centuries now, your powers too established for such failures to happen. Still, you are through. These are for them, and no matter how many doubts plague your mind, for them you will always make perfection.
You feel more than hear the attack. A bolt of pain that isn’t your own, panic that bleeds into your mind. You are out the window and in the air before you can think about what you are doing, cream-gold and green wings opening to catch an air current that takes you up, up, up, to //them//.
You can smell blood and fear. Your own despair swells inside your chest. This doesn’t make any sense. Their songbird should be with them, they both should be safe. How…
A flash of dark, bloodied clawed hands. Blue-ish gray wings, small against your partner’s <<cycle "$wing_color" autoselect>><<option "blue">><<option "red">><<option "golden">><<option "silver">><<option "orange">><<option "black">><</cycle>> ones. “Songbird,” you hear them whisper, confused, and your whole world shatters under its own weight. //No.// “Songbird,” they repeat, and close their eyes.
You strike, drawing blood, but it’s too late. The songbird jerks back, something clutched in their hand, and for the first time in your life you feel true, bone-deep, ravaging panic. Someone screams. You, them, the damned songbird. You can’t tell. The world is spinning and then you are both falling, the ground fast approaching.
You hold them close. You try to keep their magic inside their chest. Their blood stains your hands, covering the old drawings they made, their quick doodles and clumsy attempts at masterpieces. You can taste your own tears. You can’t help them. You can leave them. You close your eyes, pulling them against your chest, and let yourselves fall.
Amidst the pain and panic, a blossom of resentment. You curse their bad decisions that led you - the three of you - here, the suffering you wrought in their name, the blood in all of your hands. But it doesn’t fester, that poisonous seed. The release of their power, unbinded by the loss of their heart, will maim them, and you, and still you can’t let you. You can never let them go.
The impact comes swifty. There is pain, and rage, and fear.
And then there is [[nothing|the guardian hanging heart]].
<<set $location = "the heavens">>That night, you dream you are soaring through the skies.
You are not alone. The one who holds your heart flies a little below you, <<cycle "$wing_color" autoselect>><<option "blue">><<option "red">><<option "golden">><<option "silver">><<option "orange">><<option "black">><</cycle>> wings shimmering under the frail moonlight. Your own wings sare open, gray feathers mixing with blue and black, their coloring dark enough that few would be able to see you against the dark of the night. But not //them//. They always find you - //always// see you.
On another day, in the old life you used to have, that would have been a boon. A gift. //Maybe it still is//, a small part of your mind says, but you know that won’t be true. They might be powerful, the most powerful of them all, but you are still faster, more agile. A songbird even, small and quick, not a prowling, mighty eagle. You smile and close your eyes, savoring the breeze against your wings, the winds caressing your face. After tonight, no force of nature will offer you relief. No song will bring you joy. A fitting punishment, and one you’ve resigned yourself to bear.
You drop without warning.
You crash against them, throwing them off course, their startled voice barely reaching your ears. You don’t hesitate - quick, fast, more agile - and bury your claws into their flesh, aiming for the terrible, beautiful heart they carry inside their chest. Blood gushes, bones break, a cry of pain cuts the night sky. You both fall, hurtling towards the earth below, towards a crash you are not sure any of you is capable of surviving. You don’t care. Their face is close, their expression marred by pain, confusion, by //hurt//. You suck in a breath and they raise their eyes, not understanding, not knowing, still //trusting//…
They should be dead already. You missed their heart. An awful laughter bubbles up your throat, but all that comes out is a groan of pain. You //missed//. How? You never miss. Not intentionally.
//Oh, you fool.//
You have no time. You can feel more than hear their guardian approaching, their despair a bitter taste on your tongue. Your lover is still watching you. “Songbird,” they whisper, and you feel yourself unraveling, creaking, breaking like glass, shards painful, cutting, bloody. “Songbird,” they repeat, and close their eyes.
You draw back your hand. A single strike is all you need to destroy their heart forever. But you can’t. You never could. //Fool//. Instead, you bury your claws into their chest again and find their heart, still beating, still strong, warm under your skin. Something sharp tears across your face and you smell more blood. Your own, this time. The guardian is here.
You pull. Someone screams. You, them, the guardian. You can’t tell. Someone tries to grab at you, but fails. The world is spinning and then they are both falling, but you are here, still in the air, covered in blood, a heart beating in your hand. It’s the most terrible thing you have ever seen.
You let it fall. The sky above your head turns red, mourning the blood spilled. The wind ceases to blow. No sound reaches your ears. For the first time in centuries no mind touches your own, no bond links you to them, to their guardian. Your guardian, too. You are alone.
No one is here to hear you [[scream|the songbird hanging heart]].
You raise your head, the tree’s hold on your mind slipping away. There, in one of the lower branches - the same, you notice, as the hanging heart - is… something. Though the hungering tree seems to emit a light of its own, its gold and crimson leaves hide your unexpected savior from view almost completely. You catch a glimpse of red eyes, blue-ish gray skin, darkened fingers clutching white wood.
You try to step back, but your body doesn’t answer. “What… what are you…” your voice trails off as the thing in the tree moves, emerging from the branches and into view. For a moment you can’t quite understand what you are seeing, but then they shift again, unfurling dark wings against the hungering tree’s colorful leaves. They perch above you, clawed fingers pressing against the wood, head tilted, crimson eyes on you. An old, thin scar runs across their face.
“Do not be afraid,” they say, and you realize with a start their words aren’t in any language you recognize, though their meaning is clear in your mind. Their voice sounds like bell chimes, like a running river, like rain that seeps into the earth. Musical, beautiful and - a part of you is screaming, pressing against the walls of your mind like a maddened bird - //not human//. They smile as you watch, sharp teeth glistening under the moonlight. “I mean you no harm.”
Like fuck they don’t.
You turn to leave, but once again your body refuses to move. You are rooted to the ground, legs heavy, hands trembling. If you had a heart, it’d be beating loudly against your ribcage, making the blood in your veins burn under your flesh.
But you don’t, and that’s why you are here.
“What are you?” is all you manage to say.
The creature’s smile doesn’t falter. “Songbird,” they say. “You may call me [[songbird|the songbird 3]].”
You raise your hand. The heart hangs from one of the lower branches, and for a moment you think that’s probably intentional, that it has been placed here, so easily reached, to tempt those foolish enough to heed its call, but the thought is gone just as easily as it came, swept away in a tide of longing. Your fingers brush against the heart and you breathe in, feeling it beat against your flesh. Perfect. //Yours//.
Cold licks your skin. Your hand feels heavy, weak, tendrils of ice making its way up your arm and across your collarbones. A terror you can’t quite recognize as your own blooms in your chest, so strong it steals your breath away. It touches a primal, animalistic part of you, and //spreads//, a vast, terrible thing without beginning, without //end//.
The impact against the ground wrestles you out of that deep, treacherous sea. You remain still, breathing hard, not knowing when or how you fell, but the relief that floods your veins makes you forget it all. You raise your hand, staring at your fingers just in time to watch your skin, gray and pale, return to its normal color. The cold lingers for another moment, but that too passes, until nothing of it remains but the memory of its hunger.
From up on high, the songbird sighs. “I dearly wish you would succeed,” they whisper, a hint of sadness and maybe even regret in their voice. You frown, and your eyes meet. You can’t quite read them, but a new emotion grows within you. Not horror, not fear. //Regret//. You feel it then: bones breaking, blood gushing, the wind cutting against unprotected skin. And the moon above, harsh and unforgiving, a silent observer to a long-coming fall.
You shake your head, blinking.
“But you can not face the tree as you are,” the songbird is saying. You make yourself pay attention to their words, lowering your hand, jaw clenching.
“And how would I face it?”
The songbird’s eyes burn red, watching you, measuring you. “I could tell you.”
Their gaze moves from you to somewhere beyond the hungering tree’s barbed fence. You get up to look, cautiously avoiding approaching the tree, but there is nothing there - only the wasteland, gray and dry, stretching to cover the horizon.
“Look down,” the songbird murmurs, voice right by your ear. You startle, but they are already retreating to a higher branch, eyes full of mirth. You do as they say.
At the bottom of the hill lies a cluster of trees, a thin river - almost a stream, really - snaking through them to disappear in the fields beyond. You know that river - it’s the one the villagers use for their water, though it’s stronger here, faster, as if moving with more purpose. “Meet me there,” the songbird says, wings drawn close to their body. “Tomorrow.”
A shiver runs down your spine. “We don’t leave the village.”
A toothy, mischievous smile. “Don’t you?”
You don’t answer. The smile grows.
"Meet me there," they repeat. “And I will show you.”
Then they disappear into the hungering tree’s leaves, gone like smoke blown away by the [[wind|bottleneck]]. Mouth dry as sandpaper, you take a step back. The hungering tree’s pull is an anchor buried into your skin, reeling you forward, but you stand your ground, hands curling into fists at your side. The songbird watches, curious, as you fight your violently silent battle.
“I didn’t think you would rein in your desires.” From up on high, the songbird sighs. “I dearly wish you would succeed, had you tried,” they whisper, a hint of sadness and maybe even regret in their voice. You frown, and your eyes meet. You can’t quite read them, but a new emotion grows within you. Not horror, not fear. //Regret//. You feel it then: bones breaking, blood gushing, the wind cutting against unprotected skin. And the moon above, harsh and unforgiving, a silent observer to a long-coming fall.
You shake your head, blinking.
“But you can not face the tree as you are,” the songbird is saying. You make yourself pay attention to their words, jaw clenching.
“And how would I face it?”
The songbird’s eyes burn red, watching you, measuring you. “I could tell you.”
Their gaze moves from you to somewhere beyond the hungering tree’s barbed fence. You follow them, cautiously avoiding approaching the tree, but there is nothing there - only the wasteland, gray and dry, stretching to cover the horizon.
“Look down,” the songbird murmurs, voice right by your ear. You startle, but they are already retreating to a higher branch, eyes full of mirth. You do as they say.
At the bottom of the hill lies a cluster of trees, a thin river - almost a stream, really - snaking through them to disappear in the fields beyond. You know that river - it’s the one the villagers use for their water, though it’s stronger here, faster, as if moving with more purpose. “Meet me there,” the songbird says, wings drawn close to their body. “Tomorrow.”
A shiver runs down your spine. “We don’t leave the village.”
A toothy, mischievous smile. “Don’t you?”
You don’t answer. A smile grows.
“Meet me there,“ they repeat. “And I will show you.”
Then they disappear into the hungering tree’s leaves, gone like smoke blown away by the [[wind|bottleneck]]. <!-- story interface stuff goes here -->
<div class="bg">
<span class="cta">close your eyes</span>
<header></header>
<div id="story">
<div class="header"></div>
<div id="passages">
<!-- actual game content appears in here -->
</div>
</div>
<div class="nav"><div class="container"><a href="/">main menu</a><a href="/">journal</a><a href="/">saves</a><a href="/">settings</a></div></div>
</div>
<<set $location = "the village">>
<<set $turned_back = false>>
<<set $climbed_fence = false>>
<<set $guardian_points = 0>>
<<set $songbird_points = 0>>
<<set $knowledge_points = 0>>
<<set $first_attempt = false>>
<<set $second_attempt = false>>
<<set $visited_river = false>>
<<set $visited_tree = false>>
<<set $visited_tavern = false>>
<<set $visited_cove = false>>
<<set $know_about_cove = false>>
<<set $wing_color = "blue">>
<<replace "header">><<include "header">><</replace>>
<<replace ".header">><<include "title">><</replace>>
<<link 'the beginning'>><<script>>document.querySelector("header").style.display = "none";
Engine.restart()<</script>><</link>>
<<link 'memories'>><<script>>UI.saves()<</script>><</link>>
<<link 'your vision'>><<script>>UI.settings()<</script>><</link>>
<span class="close-header">open your eyes</span>
<h2>The Hanging Heart</h2><span>$location</span><<script>>document.querySelector(".cta").style.display="inline";
document.querySelector("header").style.display = "none";<</script>><div class="exploration">
<div class="map-songbird"></div>
<div class="content">
<span id="tavern-songbird"><<if $visited_tavern is true>>==The Tavern==<<else>>[[The Tavern|songbird tavern confirmation]]<</if>></span>
<span id="tree-songbird"><<if $visited_tree is true>>==The Hungering Tree==<<else>>[[The Hungering Tree|songbird tree confirmation]]<</if>></span>
<span id="river"><<if $visited_river is true>>==The River of Wings==<<else>>[[The Beyond|songbird river confirmation]]<</if>></span></div></div>
<<script>>
setTimeout(function() {
const map_songbird = document.querySelector(".map-songbird");
const tavern_songbird = document.querySelector("#tavern-songbird");
const river = document.querySelector("#river");
const tree_songbird = document.querySelector("#tree-songbird");
tavern_songbird.addEventListener("mouseover", showMapTavernSongbird)
tavern_songbird.addEventListener("mouseout", hideMapTavernSongbird)
river.addEventListener("mouseover", showMapRiver)
river.addEventListener("mouseout", hideMapRiver)
tree_songbird.addEventListener("mouseover", showMapTreeSongbird)
tree_songbird.addEventListener("mouseout", hideMapTreeSongbird)
function showMapTavernSongbird() {
map_songbird.style.backgroundImage = "url('the_songbird_map_tavern.png')";
map_songbird.style.backgroundSize = "100% 100%";
}
function hideMapTavernSongbird() {
map_songbird.style.backgroundImage = "url('the_songbird_map.png')";
map_songbird.style.backgroundSize = "100% 100%";
}
function showMapRiver() {
map_songbird.style.backgroundImage = "url('the_songbird_map_river.png')";
map_songbird.style.backgroundSize = "100% 100%";
}
function hideMapRiver() {
map_songbird.style.backgroundImage = "url('the_songbird_map.png')";
map_songbird.style.backgroundSize = "100% 100%";
}
function showMapTreeSongbird() {
map_songbird.style.backgroundImage = "url('the_songbird_map_tree.png')";
map_songbird.style.backgroundSize = "100% 100%";
}
function hideMapTreeSongbird() {
map_songbird.style.backgroundImage = "url('the_songbird_map.png')";
map_songbird.style.backgroundSize = "100% 100%";
}
}, 700)
<</script>>That’s not an answer and you both know it. Their smile grows. “Come.” They gesture to the tree and the hanging heart, shimmering quietly just a few inches away from their clawed hands. “You came for the heart, didn’t you? Like so many before.”
A shiver. “Did you kill them?”
The songbird laughs. The sound of it is the soft touch of rose petals against your skin, masquerading the thorns you know are beneath. And yet you can’t help but yearn to touch them all the same. “You know the answer to that.”
Somehow, you do. Your eyes move to the tree, to its swaying branches despite the lack of wind, its pull still a constant, unyielding force against your conscience. Even now its bone-white fingers reach for you in the corner of your eyes, waiting for a moment to strike, to crack your mind open like an egg and devour all you hold as your own, little though it is.
You shiver again. The songbird’s smile is still there, a touch of mockery, of resignation even, in the corner of their lips. You look away, to the heart beating slowly in the branches of the hungering tree, and your fingers tingle with anticipation, with fear.
With a terrible, all-consuming //want//.
<div class="choices">[[Reach for the heart. That’s why you came here. You are not turning back now.|the songbird 3A][$songbird_points += 1; $knowledge_points += 1;$first_attempt = true]]
[[Turn back. You don’t like this feeling, don’t like what’s hiding beneath. You can come back later, when the songbird is gone and you are alone with the hungering tree.|the songbird 3B]]</div><div class="exploration">
<div class="map-incomplete"></div>
<div class="content">
<span id="tavern"><<if $visited_tavern is true>>==The Tavern==<<else>>[[The Tavern|tavern guardian confirmation]]<</if>></span>
<span id="tree"><<if $visited_tree is true>>==The Hungering Tree==<<else>>[[The Hungering Tree|hungering tree guardian confirmation]]<</if>></span>
<span class="locked">???</span>
</div></div>
<<script>>
setTimeout(function() {
const map = document.querySelector(".map-incomplete");
const tavern = document.querySelector("#tavern");
const tree = document.querySelector("#tree");
document.querySelector("#tavern").addEventListener("mouseover", showMapTavern);
tavern.addEventListener("mouseout", hideMapTavern);
tree.addEventListener("mouseover", showMapTree);
tree.addEventListener("mouseout", hideMapTree);
function showMapTavern() {
map.style.backgroundImage = "url('the_guardian_incomplete_map_tavern.png')";
map.style.backgroundSize = "100% 100%";
}
function hideMapTavern() {
map.style.backgroundImage = "url('the_guardian_incomplete_map.png')";
map.style.backgroundSize = "100% 100%";
}
function showMapTree() {
map.style.backgroundImage = "url('the_guardian_incomplete_map_tree.png')";
map.style.backgroundSize = "100% 100%";
}
function hideMapTree() {
map.style.backgroundImage = "url('the_guardian_incomplete_map.png')";
map.style.backgroundSize = "100% 100%";
}
}, 1000)
<</script>><<set $location = "the tavern">>The tavern is your <<if $visited_tree == false and $visited_river == false>>first<<elseif $visited_tree == false or $visited_river == true>>next<<elseif $visited_tree == true or $visited_river == false>>next<<else>>last<</if>> stop.
You don’t come here much. Doing so twice in as many days is the worst kind of strange for the villagers inside. <<if $visited_tree == false and $visited_river == false>>It doesn’t matter that it’s morning still; there are people seated around the few tables, drinking or eating or just talking.<<elseif $visited_tree == false or $visited_river == true>>It doesn’t matter that it's only noon; there are people seated around the few tables, drinking or eating or just talking.<<elseif $visited_tree == true or $visited_river == false>>It doesn’t matter that it's only noon; there are people seated around the few tables, drinking or eating or just talking.<<eçse>>With the afternoon comes the end of the work day, and the tavern is packed with people sitting around the few tables, drinking or eating or just talking.<</if>> They all stop when you enter, conversation dying down to a few whispers, quick glances, badly-hidden shivers. Your jaw clenches, but you school your expression into blankness. You won’t let them know how much their rejection hurts you.
Your gaze gravitates to a figure almost completely hidden by the shadows in the corner, one you knew you would find here.
The first thing you notice are their eyes. A startling shade of green, always burning with some emotion or other - anger now, you think, as it always is when it comes to you - and shining in the darkness like the eyes of a beast. Under the tavern’s diffused light, you can make out their uniform, black pants and boots, black shirt, black gloves.
[[The guardian|the songbird tavern 2]].
<<if $visited_river == true>>Maybe it’s not the best idea to go to the hungering tree after your encounter with the songbird, but you can’t help yourself. Your blood hums under your skin, anticipation and fear unfurling inside your hollow chest. You must know, and the hungering tree holds your answers deep into its roots.<<else>>You make your way to the hungering tree, your blood humming under your skin with anticipation and fear.<</if>>
It’s harder to sneak outside and up the tree’s hill during the day. The villagers might not want to talk, touch or even acknowledge your presence, but they always keep an eye on you, even if they are terrible about pretending not to. Still, you know how to disappear from view, and once you are far enough you know exactly where to step so no one will see you when they look up to the hungering tree. And look up they will - they always do.
The tree is and isn’t different under the sunlight. Some of its menace seems to have been peeled away, some of its secrecy exposed to the orange sky above, but the //feeling// it emits is still the same. The pull is still there, the heart still beats slowly from one of its lower branches, and the more your look, the less inclined to turn away you feel. The tree does not care that you know it wants you. It does not care that you know it will manipulate you into climbing the fence, into crawling to its trunk, into reaching for its branches. It wants, just like you do.
You, too, do not care. What the tree wants is what the tree wants. You have desires of your own, a dream of your own, and no tree, however ravenous, will stand in your way.
You shiver. This time, you climb the fence without a second thought. You approach the tree, letting yourself sink into its pull, eyes going to the shimmering heart so terribly close, so easily offered. The tree welcomes you once more, leaves kissing your skin, branches dragging you forward, roots sighing inside the earth under your feet. You stop in front of its trunk. You breathe in.
A voice murmurs inside your mind. The songbird isn’t here, and somehow that feels wrong, but you shake the thought away. <<if $visited_river == true>>You don’t want to think about the songbird now.<</if>>
<div class="choices"><<if $first_attempt == false>>[[Reach for the heart. You must //know//.|the songbird hungering tree 2A][$knowledge_points += 1]]<<else>>[[Reach for the heart. You must know.|the songbird hungering tree 2B][$knowledge_points += 1]]<</if>>
[[Turn back. You still don’t like this feeling, don’t like what’s hiding beneath. Being alone with the hungering tree hasn’t given you the clear answer you wanted.|the songbird hungering tree 2C]]</div>
<<set $location = "the beyond">>It’s a foolish idea to heed the songbird’s call, but you find yourself straying from the village all the same. No gate or wall marks the border between home - if you can call it that, and you have your doubts - and the vastness of the unknown beyond, but you know where safety ends and the outside begins. It’s right //here//.
The sun slowly advances in the sky above, revealing the vibrant green of the trees around you and the emaciated, dry bark of the ones just a step ahead. Inside, outside. Safe, unknown. Simple, clear, a barrier no one but the guardian dares to trespass, and even then only to scout the wastelands in search of danger, of news. Something tugs at your thoughts, a voice warning of doors better left closed, of whispers one should never heed, but you’ve waited too long in this limbo to give up now. You push your doubts away, and step forward.
You follow the river, though here it is less a river and more of a stream, a trickle coming from the mountains in the distance. You walk beside it as the trees grow more and more twisted, blackened by disease and rot, the grass surrounding their roots paling until they are nothing more than ashes beneath your feet. The air is stale and you taste smoke, though there is no fire and nothing is burning. The silence is overwhelming.
At one point you spot flashes of the village, of small wooden houses covered by moss, but they are quickly left behind. Then comes the hungering tree’s hill, the stream skirting its base and growing stronger enough that its rushing waters overthrow the silence, singsonging downwards and against the rocks until even the hill is left behind. You shiver, bracing yourself, and look up - the tree is but a white, spidery web dotted by gold and crimson against the orange sky.
You are just starting to doubt the songbird - could you have just made them up? Or maybe they just lied to mess with you? Are they waiting around the corner, not to talk, but to hurt? - when you hear it: their voice, bells and chimes and the rustling of leaves, the quickness of running water, the rumbling of a distant, but approaching storm. You walk [[forward|the songbird river 2]].
The songbird stands on a rock in the middle of the river, wings drawn close to their body. They are naked, and even after they fall silent, noticing you, they don’t seem in the least bothered by it. Their blue-ish gray skin, dotted by darker blue spots, seems almost translucent under the morning sun, and their feathers, also gray but shifting to a dozen shades of blue, have an almost metallic sheen about them. Their hands and feet are darker, black, and their claws are darker still, and sharp enough to tear flesh, strong enough to break bone.
But the songbird only smiles at you, the scar across their face pulling at their mouth, too many sharp teeth catching the sunlight. “You came,” they say. “Why?”
<div class="choices">[[“You asked me to come.”|the songbird river 3A][$songbird_points +=1]]
[[“I need to know more.”|the songbird river 3B][$knowledge_points += 1]]
[[Stay silent.|the songbird river 3C]]</div>
Their smile widens. “I did, didn’t I?” They sound almost airy, as if their thoughts are far, far away, in another time, another place. “And you did come. You always do.”
A shiver of unease runs through your body. “What do you mean?”
They look away, gesturing to the river, to the sad trees along its banks. “Do you know what this place is?”
You follow their gaze. “It doesn’t have a name,” you say. “Nothing outside the village has, not anymore.”
The songbird smiles sadly. “I didn’t ask for its name. I asked if you know what it is.” You frown, but stays silent. The obvious answer is simply a river, but you don’t think the songbird deals with the obvious, with the common, the average. They hum, and spread their wings just enough to carry them to you across the water. They smell just like they sound; rain seeping into the earth, the laughter of a river, the crackle of energy of a coming storm. “Come,” they say. “I will show you.”
Their clawed fingers close around yours, carefully, almost gently, and they guide you deeper into the ghost forest. You both turn a corner and the songbird sighs, grasp on your hand tightening slightly. “See?” they ask, a touch of sadness, of regret seeping into their voice. “Know what this is now?”
The river continues down the hill, growing stronger still, but that’s not what catches your eyes. There are… things strewn across the waters and the riverbanks, and at first you can’t quite understand what they are. Dark green, deep blue, red and yellow, they take on many shades, bursts of color on the grayed out forest, spreading around a point like an explosion imprinted into the ashen floor. You frown, stepping forward, but then realization dawns in you. Your breath hitches.
“Wings,” you say. “They are [[wings|the songbird river 4]].”
Their smile widens. “Yes,” they say. “You always do.”
A shiver of unease runs through your body. “What do you mean?”
They look away, gesturing to the river, to the sad trees along its banks. “Do you know what this place is?”
You follow their gaze. “It doesn’t have a name,” you say. “Nothing outside the village has, not anymore.”
The songbird smiles sadly. “I didn’t ask for its name. I asked if you know what it is.” You frown, but stays silent. The obvious answer is simply a river, but you don’t think the songbird deals with the obvious, with the common, the average. They hum, and spread their wings just enough to carry them to you across the water. They smell just like they sound; rain seeping into the earth, the laughter of a river, the crackle of energy of a coming storm. “Come,” they say. “I will show you.”
Their clawed fingers close around yours, carefully, almost gently, and they guide you deeper into the ghost forest. You both turn a corner and the songbird sighs, grasp on your hand tightening slightly. “See?” they ask, a touch of sadness, of regret seeping into their voice. “Know what this is now?”
The river continues down the hill, growing stronger still, but that’s not what catches your eyes. There are… things strewn across the waters and the riverbanks, and at first you can’t quite understand what they are. Dark green, deep blue, red and yellow, they take on many shades, bursts of color on the grayed out forest, spreading around a point like an explosion imprinted into the ashen floor. You frown, stepping forward, but then realization dawns in you. Your breath hitches.
“Wings,” you say. “They are [[wings|the songbird river 4]].”
The songbird tks, and sighs. You can’t help but feel like you disappointed them, somehow.
They look away, gesturing to the river, to the sad trees along its banks. “Do you know what this place is?”
You follow their gaze. “It doesn’t have a name,” you say. “Nothing outside the village has, not anymore.”
The songbird smiles sadly. “I didn’t ask for its name. I asked if you know what it is.” You frown, but stays silent. The obvious answer is simply a river, but you don’t think the songbird deals with the obvious, with the common, the average. They hum, and spread their wings just enough to carry them to you across the water. They smell just like they sound; rain seeping into the earth, the laughter of a river, the crackle of energy of a coming storm. “Come,” they say. “I will show you.”
Their clawed fingers close around yours, carefully, almost gently, and they guide you deeper into the ghost forest. You both turn a corner and the songbird sighs, grasp on your hand tightening slightly. “See?” they ask, a touch of sadness, of regret seeping into their voice. “Know what this is now?”
The river continues down the hill, growing stronger still, but that’s not what catches your eyes. There are… things strewn across the waters and the riverbanks, and at first you can’t quite understand what they are. Dark green, deep blue, red and yellow, they take on many shades, bursts of color on the grayed out forest, spreading around a point like an explosion imprinted into the ashen floor. You frown, stepping forward, but then realization dawns in you. Your breath hitches.
“Wings,” you say. “They are [[wings|the songbird river 4]].”
<<set $location = "the river of wings">>The nearest one is of a bright shade of yellow, like sunlight made solid. You approach them wordlessly, fingers itching with a foreign want for their touch. They are //enormous//, bigger even than the songbird’s, its feathers going from yellow to gold, dotted by red and orange. At their center, where both wings meet, lie glass fragments of the same color. You step back, stomach turning.
“Empty hearts,” you whisper, then turn to the songbird, who is watching you, face devoid of emotion. “This place is a cemetery.”
A pause, and then, “Yes.”
A shiver takes hold of your body. “Why did you call me here?”
The songbird’s crimson eyes burn with all the emotion lacking in their expression, though you can’t quite place what it is. “You want the heart,” they say slowly. “Don’t you?”
You stare at each other for a moment. The songbird needs no answer. They move deep into the cemetery and, wordlessly, you follow.
You stick close to them. Now that you know what this place is, you can’t help but feel like you are trespassing somewhere you really, //really// shouldn’t. There are dozens, maybe hundreds of wings here, thrown like trash on the waters, half buried near the dead trees, forgotten even if they still shimmer with magnificence. You don’t think anyone in the village knows about this place, though maybe some do. Maybe they don’t want anything with //this// even if they know. <<if $visited_tavern == true>>You can't help but think about the guardian's lost wings, the scars marring their back.<</if>>
“Are there any left?” you ask suddenly and the songbird stops.
“Any?”
“Angels,” you say. “That’s what you are, isn’t it?”
A pause. Then the songbird smiles. “That’s what humans call us, yes, though there isn’t much divine about us at all” they say. “But yes, we still live. A few of us.” <<if $visited_tavern == true>>//Like the guardian//, you think. <</if>>They look back at you. “What do you know of the war?”
“The usual,” you say, though probably less than usual is closer to the truth. No one in the village is dying to teach you history lessons. “They fought, the angels. For a hundred years they waged war against their own, breaking in the world in the process. Then I guess someone won.” You shrug. “Now the war is over.” The songbird’s smile turns mischievous. You huff, annoyed. “Fine. Explain it to me then.”
They take your hand again, tugging you forward, and you don’t protest. “As you [[wish|the songbird river 5]].”
You walk in silence for a moment, the songbird’s grip on your fingers tightening with each step. Still, you don’t push them away.
“A hundred years ago,” the songbird finally begins. “An angel took arms against our ruling body, and others quickly followed them. They were powerful, you see. Maybe the most powerful of us all.” They pause, a touch of melancholy in their voice. “The reason doesn’t matter much at this point. But it was a good reason, in the beginning. Though not for long.” They stop, looking at you. “They became too dangerous. Uncontrollable. Unstoppable. Things were spiraling out of control. The world was broken, reality was shattering, time itself was unraveling. We are not meant to fight each other, of course. No race given such power is allowed to use it as they wish, with no care for who bleeds in its wake.”
You wait for them to continue, but they don’t. “They were defeated, though,” you insist. “Weren’t they? Otherwise…” you trail off, unsettled. The songbird huffs, fingers almost crushing your own, but they nod. “But how?”
They turn to you, stepping in your direction. You stop yourself from retreating, their red eyes holding all of your world like a butterfly pinned to a wall. Their wings unfurl, hiding the remains of their kind from view, enveloping you in a night that belongs only to you both. The sound of running water fades away to nothingness; you only hear your own breathing, struggling against the hold of silence.
“Betrayal,” the songbird says, voice cutting like the edge of a knife. “[[How else?|the songbird river 6]]”
The world tilts. //Betrayal//, the word echoes in your mind. //Betrayal, betrayal, betrayal.//
Pain slices across your chest. For a terrifying moment, you think the songbird has struck you, that their claws are buried deep into your flesh, that your blood now gushes freely against their gray skin. But they haven’t moved. The pain is inside you, rattling against your empty chest like a beast howling inside its cage. //Betrayal//, the beast growls. //How else?//
Reality creaks. You recognize the emotions in their crimson eyes now. You wonder why you didn’t before. They are as clear as the days before the breaking are said to have been: rage, raw and unbridled; brief, cold and unyielding; and longing, so deep it suffocates all others, smothering them into nothing.
//How else?//
Time stops. A longing of your own wakes in your hollow chest. A yearning so powerful it silences the beast and its rageful cries, so primal it devours the pain, the hurt, masking their wounds from you. You want to kiss them. You want to touch their skin, want to draw a line against their cheekbone with your thumb, want to card your fingers through their hair, to feel their sharp teeth against your tongue.
You //want//.
<div class="choices">[[Kiss them.|the songbird river 7A][$songbird_points += 1]]
[[Step back.|the songbird river 7B]]</div>
You crash your lips against the songbird’s, feeling their scar against your skin, and for a moment they are still and unresponsive under your touch. But then they move, teeth brushing against your bottom lip, clawed hands digging into your shoulders, making their way through your hair. You feel their tongue - forked, you realize in a distant corner of your mind - against your mouth, and you bring them closer, fingers on their naked torso.
They push you away. You blink, raising your eyes in time to see the songbird cast a last glance in your direction, gaze once again devoid of emotion, wings unfurled.
They jump into the air and just like that they are gone.
You stay still for a long time, lips tingling, hollow chest aching against its emptiness. Then you make your way back to the village, pushing torn wings, broken hearts and the feel of warm skin into the back of your <<if $visited_tree == true and $visited_tavern == true>>[[mind|the choice]]<<else>>[[mind|hub2]]<</if>>.
You stumble back, away from the songbird’s winged night, from the temptation of their lips, their touch. They step back, too, eyes and expression morphing back into blankness. You stare at each other for a moment, until you can’t help but look away. They huff, wings unfurling yet again, and jump into the air. Just like that, they are gone.
You stay still for a long time, hollow chest aching against its emptiness. Then you make your way back to the village, pushing torn wings, broken hearts and the imaginary feel of warm skin into the back of your <<if $visited_tree == true and $visited_tavern == true>>[[mind|the choice]]<<else>>[[mind|hub2]]<</if>>.
<<set $location = "home">>Your cot is a cold comfort when you return home. The events of the day replay in your mind, the hints of a forgotten past keeping you awake as the sun finally disappears in the distant horizon. Out the window, the hungering tree is both a promise and a threat up on the hill, <<if $songbird_points eq $guardian_points>>and one you must answer soon.
<div class="choices">[[Tomorrow you will look for the songbird and together you will face the tree and the truth.|songbird dream]]
[[Tomorrow you will look for the guardian and together you will face the tree and the truth.|guardian dream]]</div><<elseif $songbird_points gte $guardian_points>>and one you must answer [[soon|songbird dream]].<<else>>and one you must answer [[soon|guardian dream]].<</if>>
//They are not from here//, a voice whispers in your mind, and you almost laugh. Of course they aren’t. No one is, really - this village, like many others, sprung to life with the remnants of the war of the angels, the battered souls that escaped the bloody aftermath of a battle that wasn’t theirs. The guardian is just another like them, like you even, a stranger blown by winds outside of their control until they landed here, in this patch of land that would be insignificant if not for the tree.
But their eyes…
//Eyes of a beast//, you think. Maybe you are right.
Only for you, the same voice murmurs. Not for everyone else.
The voice, whatever suppressed part of your mind it is, is right. The guardian doesn’t look at you like the villagers do; there is no fear in their gaze, no suspicion, only anger. You hold back a bitter laugh - what sad life have you led, that someone hating you doesn’t seem as bad? Maybe you should turn back, forget all this, find purporse somewhere else, someplace where anger doesn't give you hope.
But you must //know//. You must //have//. The desire burning in your chest is for answers, for a heart to call your own, for a life you haven’t lived yet - or one that you did, once, but lost. And to achieve that you must reach for what would be otherwise locked away from you, like the guardian, sitting here alone, watching you with their hateful green eyes.
So you make your way to their table and sit on one of the chairs. The tavern is even more quiet now, its attention pinned on you, on the guardian across you, on the unlikely pair you make: the village outcast, a heartless being with no memory, no name, no future, and the village guardian, their sword in the darkness, the one protection they have against whatever the broken world has birthed in the last few years.
It’d be funny, yes, if you couldn’t feel the heat of their gaze on your [[skin|the songbird tavern 3]].
“You hate me,” you say quietly, ignoring the villagers.
The guardian frowns and for the first time the hatred in their eyes fades. “Hate //you?//” they let out a muffled sound. It takes you a moment to realize it’s laughter, bitter and, yes, //angry//. “I wish.”
You shiver.
<div class="choices">[[You wish? “Why?”|the songbird tavern 4A][$knowledege_points +=1]]
[[A pang of hurt spreads through you. “Should I just leave you alone, then?”|the songbird tavern 4B][$guardian_points +=1]]
[[Stay silent.|the songbird tavern 4C]]</div>
“Does it matter?” They don’t wait for you to say that //yes, of course it does//. Their eyes harden. “You have met them, I take it.”
You know exactly who they mean. “The songbird?” you ask anyway, still stuck in the fact that //they know each other//, or at least the guardian knows //of// the songbird, which, two minutes ago, you would never have thought possible.
A small, fleeting smile graces their lips. “Is that what they had you call them?”
You frown. You knew from the start that the songbird was obviously not their name<<if $visited_river == true>> and now you know it’s not their race either<</if>>, but you didn’t think the guardian would recognize the moniker either way. “Yes,” you say cautiously. “Shouldn’t I?”
The guardian hums. “It would break their heart to have you call them anything else.”
You are still processing their words when they get up and leave, footsteps echoing in the still silent tavern. You watch them go and then, after a pause, you [[follow|the songbird tavern 5]].
For a quick, almost imagined moment, the guardian’s eyes soften. “No.” They sigh. “You have met them, I take it.”
You know exactly who they mean. “The songbird?” you ask anyway, still stuck in the fact that //they know each other//, or at least the guardian knows //of// the songbird, which, two minutes ago, you would never have thought possible.
A small, fleeting smile graces their lips. “Is that what they had you call them?”
You frown. You knew from the start that the songbird was obviously not their name<<if $visited_river == true>> and now you know it’s not their race either<</if>>, but you didn’t think the guardian would recognize the moniker either way. “Yes,” you say cautiously. “Shouldn’t I?”
The guardian hums. “It would break their heart to have you call them anything else.”
You are still processing their words when they get up and leave, footsteps echoing in the still silent tavern. You watch them go and then, after a pause, you [[follow|the songbird tavern 5]].
The guardian scowls at your silence. They huff, annoyed. “You have met them, I take it.”
You know exactly who they mean. “The songbird?” you ask anyway, still stuck in the fact that //they know each other//, or at least the guardian knows //of// the songbird, which, two minutes ago, you would never have thought possible.
A small, fleeting smile graces their lips. “Is that what they had you call them?”
You frown. You knew from the start that the songbird was obviously not their name<<if $visited_river == true>> and now you know it’s not their race either<</if>>, but you didn’t think the guardian would recognize the moniker either way. “Yes,” you say cautiously. “Shouldn’t I?”
The guardian hums. “It would break their heart to have you call them anything else.”
You are still processing their words when they get up and leave, footsteps echoing in the still silent tavern. You watch them go and then, after a pause, you [[follow|the songbird tavern 5]].
It’s raining softly outside, <<if $visited_river == true or $visited_tree == true>>though the rising sun still shines wanly through the clouds<<else>>the dying sun almost completely hidden behind the clouds<</if>>. The guardian stands away from the door, leaning against the wooden walls of the tavern, green eyes lost in the distance. For a moment you think about turning, about leaving, but their presence tugs at you in the same way the songbird’s does - the same way the hungering tree has always called for you.
The thought is an unsettling one, but not, you realize with a start, an unwelcome one. You approach them, watching the way their mouth tightens, their fingers curl. They don’t hate you, you remind yourself, and maybe they are even telling the truth. Maybe it’s not rage you have always seen in their startling green eyes - maybe, just maybe, it’s hurt. Regret, yet again. //Grief//.
Surprisingly, it’s the guardian who breaks the silence. “You must not go to the tree again,” they say, still not looking at you. “Stay away. It’s not safe. Not for you, not for any of us.”
You bite down on your lip, vaguely annoyed. “I know it’s not safe. But I must go. I need a heart, and that tree is the only thing that will offer me one.”
The guardian scoffs. “You don’t //need// a heart. You can live just fine without one.”
Now you are //definitely// annoyed. “Give up yours then,” you spit back. “If it’s so easy to live without one.” They don’t answer and your anger rises. “I will have it. This life, it isn’t…” You swallow, jaw clenching in an effort to keep your voice even. You let out a breath. “This is no life one would ever aspire to lead.”
The guardian lets out a strangled, almost pained sound. “Don’t,” they bite out, fingers closing around your wrist, words so warped by emotion you can barely understand them. “Don’t say that. Any life you lead… //any life you lead//… would be worth it. Would be precious. //[[Don’t|the songbird tavern 6]]//.”
You gaze at their closed hand around your wrist and they do the same. After a charged, almost painful pause, they let go of you as if burned, flexing their fingers and then hiding them behind their back. You purse your lips, trying to ignore the bolt of hurt spreading through your hollow chest, but it has a vicious, beastly strength, not easily pushed aside.
The silence stretches on this time. You are breathing hard, you realize, and your eyes sting, tears turning your vision blurry. “No one here will ever accept me as I am. No one here will ever want a heartless like me.”
The guardian sighs again, closing their eyes. “You could leave,” they say. “There are other places out there, I know there are. One of them will not care. You could live a happy life away from all this. From the heart, from the tree.” They look at you, and their green eyes turn so soft it’s almost painful to be under their gaze, their gentle, painfully vast //love//. “I could protect you out there. I could lead you to safety.”
<div class="choices">[[Their words cut deep, their softness sharp, unyielding. “Would you do that?”|the songbird tavern 7A][$guardian_points += 1]]
[[You look away. “I can’t do that.”|the songbird tavern 7B]]</div>
The guardian smiles, but it is a sad, frail thing. “I learned the hard way there is nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for you. That is my cross to bear.” They pause to study you, searching your face, looking for the answer we both know it’s there. Their shoulders slump, and they look tired - tired, old, and spent. “But you will not come.”
There is no use denying that. “No,” you say softly. “I’m sorry. I must know.”
They sigh. “So you must.”
They turn around, crossing their arms against their chest. You stare at them, unable to form words, to articulate your thoughts in something that would ease their pain or your own. There is so much you don’t know - about yourself, about the guardian or the songbird, about your story together. That’s why you can’t leave, why you must stay, face the hungering tree and steal away the heart - so you will //know//, so you will //remember//.
You raise your eyes.
Dark markings on the guardian’s back catch your gaze. Their hair is swept away, revealing very little of their skin. It’s just enough for you to pause and frown. Faded drawings dot their shoulders, like tattoos worn out by time, but it is the twin scars that have your attention. Vertical slashes across their back, though you can only see the tips of them; their shirt hides the rest. And yet you know exactly what they are.
//Wings.//
<div class="choices">[[Touch them.|the songbird tavern 8A][$guardian_points += 1]]
[[That’s enough.Leave.|the songbird tavern 8B]]</div>
The guardian smiles, but it is a sad, frail thing. “That’s what I thought,” they say, resigned.
“I’m sorry,” you say. “But I must know.”
They sigh. “So you must.”
They turn around, crossing their arms against their chest. You stare at them, unable to form words, to articulate your thoughts in something that would ease their pain or your own. There is so much you don’t know - about yourself, about the guardian or the songbird, about your story together. That’s why you can’t leave, why you must stay, face the hungering tree and steal away the heart - so you will //know//, so you will //remember//.
You raise your eyes.
Dark markings on the guardian’s back catch your gaze. Their hair is swept away, revealing very little of their skin. It’s just enough for you to pause and frown. Faded drawings dot their shoulders, like tattoos worn out by time, but it is the twin scars that have your attention. Vertical slashes across their back, though you can only see the tips of them; their shirt hides the rest. And yet you know exactly what they are.
//Wings.//
<div class="choices">[[Touch them.|the songbird tavern 8A][$guardian_points += 1]]
[[That’s enough. //Leave//.|the songbird tavern 8B]]
Your fingers tremble when you raise them. The guardian is warm under your touch, the scar tissue rough against your skin. The guardian goes terribly still and you don’t dare to move, at least not at first. The whole world has fallen silent around you both, sound and movement suffocated by realization of something //more//, something deep and ancient and forgotten, now buzzing in the air between both of you.
You trace the scar with your fingertips, slipping under their shirt. Your voice wavers. “Where are your wings?”
A painful, charged silence. “Gone,” is all they say in the end. <<if $visited_river == true>>You think back to the wings half buried by ashen earth and running waters. You want to throw up. <</if>>They shake you off, the loss of contact tilts your world for a moment, struggling against being thrown off balance. You are still close enough to feel them sigh. “Go.”
A pause, threatening to once again unveil that something, that hidden, terrible thing just outside your comprehension. But you obey. You turn and you <<if $visited_tree == true and $visited_river == true>>[[leave|the choice]]<<else>>[[leave|hub2]]<</if>>.
“I’m sorry,” you say again.
The guardian sighs. “Go.”
A pause, quiet and full of promise. But in the end you obey. You turn and you <<if $visited_tree == true and $visited_river == true>>[[leave|the choice]]<<else>>[[leave|hub2]]<</if>>You raise your hand. The heart hangs from one of the lower branches, and for a moment you think that’s probably intentional, that the heart has been placed here, so easily reached, to tempt those foolish enough to heed its call, but the thought is gone just as easily as it came, swept away in a tide of longing. Your fingers brush against the heart and you breathe in, feeling it beat against your skin. Perfect. //Yours//.
Cold licks your skin. Your hand feels heavy, weak, tendrils of ice making its way up your arm and across your collarbones. A terror you can’t quite recognize as your own blooms in your chest, so strong it steals your breath away. It touches a primal, animalistic part of you, and //spreads//, a vast, terrible thing without beginning, without end.
The impact against the ground wrestles you out of that deep, treacherous sea. You remain still, breathing hard, not knowing when or how you fell, but the relief that floods your veins makes you forget it all. You raise your hand, staring at your fingers just in time to watch your skin, gray and pale, return to its normal color. The cold lingers for another moment, but that too passes, until nothing of it remains but the memory of its hunger.
You scramble to your feet, <<if $visited_river == true>>and a small part of you wishes terribly that the songbird was here<<else>>backing away from the tree<</if>>. You don’t have to think twice now; being alone here, without the shadow of wings on the branches, is terrifying, grotesque beyond understanding. You turn away, and <<if $visited_tree == true and $visited_tavern == true>>[[leave|the choice]].<<else>>[[leave|hub2]].<</if>>You raise your hand. Just like last time, your fingers brush against the heart, its warmth seeping into your skin. It’s intoxicating, the feel of it beating against your flesh, like coming home after an eternity of winter, like the warmth of an embrace you’ve never felt. It’s perfect. //Yours//.
But the cold comes all the same, and that old, unfamiliar but at the same time recognizable terror follows suit, blossoming inside your chest. You’re quicker now: you push yourself backward, slipping away from the tree’s grasp and hitting the ground with an //oof//. You can almost feel the tree hissing above you, but you don’t care. Your will is still your own.
You scramble to your feet, <<if $visited_river == true>>and a small part of you wishes terribly that the songbird was here<<else>>backing away from the tree<</if>>. You don’t have to think twice now; being alone here, without the shadow of wings on the branches, is terrifying, grotesque beyond understanding. You turn away, and <<if $visited_tree == true and $visited_tavern == true>>[[leave|the choice]].<<else>>[[leave|hub2]].<</if>><<if $first_attempt == false>>Just like last time, the hungering tree’s pull is an anchor dragging against your skin, tugging you forward, coaching you into obedience. But you stand your ground all the same, burying your fingernails into the palm of your hands.<<else>>Mouth dry as sandpaper, you take a step back. The hungering tree’s pull is an anchor buried into your skin, reeling you forward, but you stand your ground, hands curling into fists at your side. You fell for the tree’s manipulation once, and that was enough.<</if>>
-
You turn away, <<if $visited_river == true>>and a small part of you wishes terribly that the songbird was here<<else>>backing away from the tree<</if>>. Being alone here, without the shadow of wings on the branches, is terrifying, grotesque beyond understanding. You turn away, and <<if $visited_tree == true and $visited_tavern == true>>[[leave|the choice]].<<else>>[[leave|hub2]].<</if>><<set $location = "home">>You wake up tasting blood.
You roll over. The room’s wooden floor is cold against your back, and the moonlight is too weak to illuminate much beyond your cot and the shape of the walls. You turn and throw up, stomach turning. You feel feverish, sick, your blood boiling in your veins. Trembling fingers ghost above your chest, feeling the scar there. You stand up, swaying. You know who put it there. You know why.
But you still don’t know everything.
Beyond the window, the hungering tree beckons.
And you [[answer|the songbird hanging heart 2]].
You raise your hand. Your fingers brush against the heart and you breathe in, feeling it beat against your skin. Perfect. //Yours//.
You know the terror will come. You steel yourself against its vicious embrace. Maybe this is the time it works, the time you succeed. Maybe it isn’t. You close your eyes.
You’re [[ready|the end]].
<<set $turned_back = false>><<set $climbed_fence = false>><<set $guardian_points = 0>><<set $songbird_points = 0>><<set $knowledge_points = 0>><<set $first_attempt = false>><<set $second_attempt = false>><<set $visited_river = false>><<set $visited_tree = false>><<set $visited_tavern = false>><<set $visited_cove = false>><<set $know_about_cove = false>><<set $wing_color = "blue">>You raise your hand. Your fingers brush against the heart and you breathe in, feeling it beat against your skin. Perfect. //Yours//.
Cold licks your skin. Your hand feels heavy, weak, tendrils of ice making its way up your arm and across your collarbones. A terror you now can recognize as your own blooms in your chest, so strong it steals your breath away. It touches a primal, animalistic part of you, and //spreads//, a vast, terrible thing without beginning, without //end//.
//No//, you think, but it is too much. You fall to your knees.
“It’s all right,” someone says. The songbird. The guardian. //Who?// They are already fading from your mind, the tree devouring everything, every memory, every secret. You thought it malevolus once. You thought its hunger malicious. But now you know. This is not malice. This is despair.
“It’s all right,” the words echo in your mind. “We will be waiting for you.”
Then there is nothing but [[darkness|intro]].
<<set $location = "the hungering tree">>The songbird finds you as you stumble through the village, slowly making your way to the hungering tree. You are not trying to be quiet and by now many eyes look on from behind shuttered windows, but you don’t find it in yourself to care. You eye the songbird, who lands beside you silently. You take a deep breath, eyes burning, fingers itching, though you are not sure what for. You want to hurt them as they hurt you. You want to taste their lips, to bury your face in their neck and cry. You want to push them away, forever. You want to bring them close and never let go.
But when they offer you their hand, you realize it is enough, for now.
Together, you leave the village and walk up the hungering tree’s hill. You are not surprised to find the guardian - //your// guardian - waiting by the fence, arms crossed over their chest. They take a look at you both and sigh, but when you climb the fence they are there to help you over. On the other side, they help you stand up, fingers brushing against your elbow, and then don’t let go.
You three approach the hungering tree in silence. Its pull is weaker now, but still intense enough to cloud your vision, to tug at your conscience like a well-buried thorn. You breathe in, slowly, and let out a laugh. “My monstrous tree,” you whisper, then your gaze moves to the hanging heart, shimmering in its lonely branch. “My monstrous heart.”
How weird it is to think it has always been yours. That the old man was right, in a way. It //was// an angel once, a hundred years ago. So were you. The hungering tree is your legacy, a terrible thing that was once, maybe, born of love. A good reason, the songbird said. But not for long.
“Aren’t you afraid,” you begin, voice low. “Of what I’ll become if I succeed now?”
//Would you do it again?// is what you don’t ask, but when your eyes meet the songbird’s you know they heard it all the same. They offer you a sad, tired smile.
“I don’t know,” they say. “Maybe I should be. But you are right, you know.” They glance at the tree, at its gentle but maddened swaying, moving in a wind that doesn’t blow. “This is your monstrous tree. Your monstrous heart. You, in a way. And you’ve been denying yourself your own power for a hundred years now. Maybe you are more afraid than I will ever be.”
There is a moment of silence and then, because you can’t help yourself, “Would you do it again?”
The songbird squeezes your hand. “Maybe. I’m not sure I’d be able to.” Their smile fades away. “Sometimes I think I’d rather watch you break the world a thousand times. Other times, I know that wouldn’t be right. That’s the only answer I have for you.”
You squeeze their hand back. “I know.”
You glance at the guardian, who tilts their head, a knowing, vaguely annoyed look in their eyes. You never needed words with them, a voice in your mind tells you. A look, however annoyed, is enough. They would still follow you to the end, every time. You smile.
You step forward, away from them. The hungering tree rises in front of you, pulling at you, whispering your long forgotten name in a language you still can’t quite understand. You shiver.
The hanging heart - //your// hanging heart - beckons, calling you home.
<<if $knowledge_points >= 3>><div class="final-choice">[[Reach for the heart.|success]]</div><<else>><div class="final-choice">[[Reach for the heart.|fail state]]</div><</if>>
<<set $location = "the tavern">>The tavern is your <<if $visited_tree == false and $visited_river == false>>first<<elseif $visited_tree == false or $visited_river == true>>next<<elseif $visited_tree == true or $visited_river == false>>next<<else>>last<</if>> stop.
You don’t come here much, so doing so twice in as many days is the worst kind of strange for the villagers inside. <<if $visited_tree == false and $visited_river == false>>It doesn’t matter that it’s morning still; there are people seated around the few tables, drinking or eating or just talking.<<elseif $visited_tree == false or $visited_river == true>>It doesn’t matter that it's only noon; there are people seated around the few tables, drinking or eating or just talking.<<elseif $visited_tree == true or $visited_river == false>>It doesn’t matter that it's only noon; there are people seated around the few tables, drinking or eating or just talking.<<else>>With the afternoon comes the end of the work day, and the tavern is packed with people sitting around the few tables, drinking or eating or just talking.<</if>> They all stop when you enter, conversation dying down to a few whispers, quick glances, badly-hidden shivers. Your jaw clenches, but you school your expression into blankness. You won’t let them know how much their rejection hurts you.
Your gaze gravitates towards the back of the room, where a figure almost completely hidden by the shadows usually sits alone, but there is no one there. You frown, though you can’t quite make sense of your thoughts or feelings about them. //The guardian.// You approach the counter, where an old woman, the owner, stands in silence, watching you.
You don’t get a chance to ask anything. “Don’t go looking for them,” the old woman says, voice so low you know it’s meant only for you. “They’ve got enough in their hands without the likes of you pestering them.”
You don’t bother denying your intentions. “I just want to ask some questions,” you say through gritted teeth. “I won’t steal their virtue, if that’s what you are worried about.”
The woman’s face turns a bright shade of red, but she is otherwise unbothered. “Asking questions will get you nowhere but to an early grave,” she says, leaning forward across the counter. “And you have already been lucky enough to escape one, heartless as you are.”
You hold back a scowl, anger flaring.
<div class="choices">[[“I’d rather take the chance of an early grave,” you spit back. “Then stay as I am.”|the guardian tavern 2A][$knowledge_points += 1]]
[[Stay silent. She doesn’t deserve your anger. None of them do.|the guardian tavern 2B]]</div>
<<set $location = "the hungering tree">>You make your way to the hungering tree, your blood humming under your skin with anticipation and fear.
It’s harder to sneak outside and up the tree’s hill during the day. The villagers might not want to talk, touch or even acknowledge your presence, but they always keep an eye on you, even if they are terrible about pretending not to. Still, you know how to disappear from view, and once you are far enough you know exactly where to step so no one will see you when they look up to the hungering tree. And look up they will - they always do.
The tree is and isn’t different under the sunlight. Some of its menace seems to have been peeled away, some of its secrecy exposed to the orange sky above, but the feeling it emits is still the same. The pull is still there, the heart still beats slowly from one of its lower branches, and the more your look, the less inclined to turn away you feel. The tree does not care that you know it wants you. It does not care that you know it will manipulate you into climbing the fence, into crawling to its trunk, into reaching for its branches. It wants, just like you do.
You, too, do not care. What the tree wants is what the tree wants. You have desires of your own, a dream of your own, and no tree, however ravenous, will stand in your way.
You shiver. This time, you climb the fence without a second though, ignoring the way its sharp edges pierce your skin, and haul yourself over to the other side. Your land quietly, fingers brushing against the soft grass growing around the hungering tree. The hanging heart is a constant on the edge of your vision, but you pause, willing yourself to focus.
You’ve never been this close to it before.
You take off your shoes, savoring the feeling of the earth beneath your feet. The tree’s pull is a presence against your skin, a calling inside your head. You lick your lips, breathing hard, and move forward.
Every step takes ages. You feel the tree’s branches against your flesh, caressing your cheekbones, tangling themselves in your hair, but it’s always as shadows in the corner of your eye, disappearing in thin air once you try to focus on them. But you //feel// them. They are //real//. //Welcome//, they seem to say. //Welcome back.
back.
back. back. back.
b-//
You blink. You’ve stopped. The tree is right in front of you, its bone-white bark so clear it almost seems to emit light. Its many branches reach for the skies above, desperate, longing. //Like the old man’s story//, you think, mind muddled, sounds faint, vision faltering. //A fallen angel yearning for the heavens even after death.//
“It will suck you dry,” a voice says, shattering the illusion. “If you are not [[careful|the guardian hungering tree 2]].”
<<set $location = "the painted cove">>The painted cove is little more than a hole in the hungering tree’s hill, with battered wooden walls and no door.
You approach slowly, not sure what you will find inside. The guardian, certainly. But what do they do here, at the very edges of the village, all alone? Biting down your lip, you risk a quick glance inside.
You are not sure what you expected, but it certainly wasn’t… this. There is a lot of light, much more than a hole in the earth has any right to have, but sunlight spills inside through an opening above, giving the place an almost golden glow. And it is packed with all manner of… paintings. Small drawings, huge canvases hanging from the walls, discarded doodles scattered across the floor. Most of them depict scenery, places like nothing you’ve seen before, but that you know exist - or once existed - beyond the boundaries of the village: the sea at night, a field of flowers, a citadel perched on storm clouds..
But there are people, too. Some villagers. The tavern owner. <<if $visited_tree == false>>A creature, winged and naked, blue gray skin illuminated by moonlight.<<else>> And there, almost hidden from view, is the songbird, alone, wings half-open, eyes on the distant moon, painted with care and a knowing that comes from years of companionship. You pause - //they know each other//? Or at least the guardian knows //of// the songbird…<</if>> But what steals your breath away is the person staring back at you from one of the bigger canvases, hung right across the door.
You.
But… it’s not the //you// you know. The appearance is the same, yes, and yet there is something about it that feels… off. Or maybe it’s the opposite. Maybe this one feels //right// and the one you glimpse of the surface of the river, on the reflection in the mirror, is the one that is a pale imitation of reality. There is no frown on their brow, no resigned hurt pulling at their mouth, no feverish despair in their gaze. This is a better you, one with mirth dancing on their lips, one that looks at the painter with a quiet, fierce kind of love.
A love that you can feel answered in every stroke, in every color and line imprinted into the canvas. Your breath hitches. You haven’t known this kind of love in this new, shattered life.
“What are you doing [[here|the guardian cove 2]]?”
<<set $know_about_cove = true>>The old woman’s eyes harden and for a moment you almost expect her to lunge at you, but the seconds pass and she stays still. You are vaguely aware of the tavern’s attention on both of you and you know that offending its owner will bring you more pain than this momentary flash of satisfaction is worth. But the only thing you do is raise your chin and wait.
“I wonder if you would still believe that,” the old woman finally says, breaking the heavy silence. “If your past proved more than you can bear.”
A shiver runs down your spine. Your mouth is dry. “I would,” is all you say.
The silence stretches, unyielding. You turn your back to her, fingers curling at your side, but you can’t bring yourself to move. Rage, regret, fear - they are all bitter pills to swallow, and your throat is raw from their poison.
“The painted cove,” the old woman says suddenly. “You will find them there.”
You nod, a twinge of relief chasing away the anger. Then you <<if $visited_tree == true and $visited_cove == true>>[[leave|the choice]]<<else>><<if $know_about_cove == true>>[[leave|hub]].<<else>>[[leave|hub3]]<</if>><</if>><<set $know_about_cove = true>>The silence stretches, unyielding. You turn your back to her, fingers curling at your side, but you can’t bring yourself to move. Rage, regret, fear - they are all bitter pills to swallow, and your throat is raw from their poison.
“The painted cove,” the old woman says suddenly. “You will find them there.”
You nod, a twinge of relief chasing away the anger. Then you <<if $visited_tree == true and $visited_cove == true>>[[leave|the choice]]<<else>><<if $know_about_cove == true>>[[leave|hub]].<<else>>[[leave|hub3]]<</if>><</if>>You raise your head, the tree’s hold on your mind slipping away. There, in one of the lower branches - the same, you notice, as the hanging heart - is… something. Though the hungering tree seems to emit a light of its own, its gold and crimson leaves hide your unexpected savior from view almost completely. You catch a glimpse of red eyes, blue-ish gray skin, darkened fingers clutching white wood.
You try to step back, but your body doesn’t answer. “What… what are you…” your voice trails off as the thing in the tree moves, emerging from the branches and into view. For a moment you can’t quite understand what you are seeing, but then they shift again, unfurling dark wings against the hungering tree’s colorful leaves. They perch above you, clawed fingers pressing against the wood, head tilted, crimson eyes on you. An old, thin scar runs across their face.
“Do not be afraid,” they say, and you realize with a start their words aren’t in any language you recognize, though their meaning is clear in your mind. Their voice sounds like bell chimes, like a running river, like rain that seeps into the earth. Musical, beautiful and - a part of you is screaming, pressing against the walls of your mind like a maddened bird - //not human//. They smile as you watch, sharp teeth glistening under the sunlight. “I mean you no harm.”
Like fuck they don’t.
You turn to leave, but once again your body refuses to move. You are rooted to the ground, legs heavy, hands trembling. If you had a heart, it’d be beating loudly against your ribcage, making the blood in your veins burn under your flesh.
But you don’t, and that’s why you are here.
“What are you?” is all you manage to say.
The creature’s smile doesn’t falter. “Songbird,” they say. “You may call me [[songbird|the guardian hungering tree 3]].”
That’s not an answer and you both know it. Their smile grows. “Come.” They gesture to the tree and the hanging heart, shimmering quietly just a few inches away from their clawed hands. “You came for the heart, didn’t you? Like so many before.”
A shiver. “Did you kill them?”
The songbird laughs. The sound of it is the soft touch of rose petals against your skin, masquerading the thorns you know are beneath. And yet you can’t help but yearn to touch them all the same. “You know the answer to that.”
Somehow, you do. Your eyes move to the tree, to its swaying branches despite the lack of wind, its pull still a constant, unyielding force against your conscience. Even now its bone-white fingers reach for you in the corner of your eyes, waiting for a moment to strike, to crack your mind open like an egg and devour all you hold as your own, little though it is.
You shiver again. The songbird’s smile is still there, a touch of mockery, of resignation even, in the corner of their lips. You look away, to the heart beating slowly in the branches of the hungering tree, and your fingers tingle with anticipation, with fear.
With a terrible, all-consuming //want//.
<div class="choices">[[Reach for the heart. That’s why you came here.|the guardian hungering tree 4A][$songbird_points += 1; $knowledge_points += 1]]
[[Turn back. You don’t like this feeling, don’t like what’s hiding beneath.|the guardian hungering tree 4B]] </div>
You raise your hand. The heart hangs from one of the lower branches, and for a moment you think that’s probably intentional, that the heart has been placed here, so easily reached, to tempt those foolish enough to heed its call, but the thought is gone just as easily as it came, swept away in a tide of longing. Your fingers brush against the heart and you breathe in, feeling it beat against your skin. Perfect. //Yours//.
Cold licks your skin. Your hand feels heavy, weak, tendrils of ice making its way up your arm and across your collarbones. A terror you can’t quite recognize as your own blooms in your chest, so strong it steals your breath away. It touches a primal, animalistic part of you, and //spreads//, a vast, terrible thing without beginning, without //end//.
The impact against the ground wrestles you out of that deep, treacherous sea. You remain still, breathing hard, not knowing when or how you fell, but the relief that floods your veins makes you forget it all. You raise your hand, staring at your fingers just in time to watch your skin, gray and pale, return to its normal color. The cold lingers for another moment, but that too passes, until nothing of it remains but the memory of its hunger.
From up on high, the songbird sighs. “I dearly wish you would succeed,” they whisper, a hint of sadness and maybe even regret in their voice. You frown, and your eyes meet. You can’t quite read them, but a new emotion grows within you. Not horror, not fear. //Regret//. You feel it then: bones breaking, blood gushing, the wind cutting against unprotected skin. And the moon above, harsh and unforgiving, a silent observer to a long-coming fall.
You shake your head, blinking.
“But you can not face the tree as you are,” the songbird is saying. You make yourself pay attention to their words, lowering your hand, jaw clenching.
<div class="choices">[[“How would I face it?” you ask. “I need to know.”|the guardian hungering tree 5A][$songbird_points +=1]]
[[Stay silent.|the guardian hungering tree 5B]]</div>
Mouth dry as sandpaper, you take a step back. The hungering tree’s pull is an anchor buried into your skin, reeling you forward, but you stand your ground, hands curling into fists at your side. The songbird watches, curious, as you fight your violently silent battle.
“I didn’t think you would rein in your desires.” From up on high, the songbird sighs. “I dearly wish you would succeed, had you tried,” they whisper, a hint of sadness and maybe even regret in their voice. You frown, and your eyes meet. You can’t quite read them, but a new emotion grows within you. Not horror, not fear. //Regret//. You feel it then: bones breaking, blood gushing, the wind cutting against unprotected skin. And the moon above, harsh and unforgiving, a silent observer to a long-coming fall.
You shake your head, blinking.
“But you can not face the tree as you are,” the songbird is saying. You make yourself pay attention to their words, jaw clenching.
<div class="choices">[[“How would I face it?” you ask. “I need to know.”|the guardian hungering tree 5A][$songbird_points +=1]]
[[Stay silent.|the guardian hungering tree 5B]]</div>
The songbird’s smile widens. “You do.” They sound almost airy, as if their thoughts are far, far away, in another time, another place. “You always do.”
A shiver of unease runs through your body. “What do you mean?”
They ignore you, of course. Their crimson eyes burn with all the emotion lacking in their expression, though you can’t quite place what it is. “You can’t face it without knowing. Without true intent. That’s the important part.”
You stare at each other for a moment. The songbird’s wings unfurl behind them and, for a moment, you are transfixed by their beauty, their otherworldliness.
“Are there any left?” you ask before you can help yourself.
The songbird shoots you a curious look. “Any?”
“Angels,” you say. “That’s what you are, isn’t it?”
A pause. Then the songbird smiles. “That’s what humans call us, yes, though there isn’t much divine about us at all” they say. “But yes, we still live. A few of us.” They look back at you. “What do you know of the war?”
“The usual,” you say, though probably less than usual is closer to the truth. No one in the village is dying to teach you history lessons. “They fought, the angels. For a hundred years they waged war against their own, breaking in the world in the process. Then I guess someone won.” You shrug. “Now the war is over.” The songbird’s smile turns mischievous. You huff, annoyed. “Fine. Explain it to me then.”
They jump down, and with every step they take in your direction the tree’s pull grows fainter. They are naked, too, though they don’t seem to care in the least about it. “As you [[wish|the guardian hungering tree 6]].”
The songbird //tks//, and sighs. You can’t help but feel like you disappointed them, somehow.
Their crimson eyes burn with all the emotion lacking in their expression, though you can’t quite place what it is. “Without knowing. Without true intent. That’s the important part.”
You stare at each other for a moment. The songbird’s wings unfurl behind them and, for a moment, you are transfixed by their beauty, their otherworldliness.
“Are there any left?” you ask before you can help yourself.
The songbird shoots you a curious look. “Any?”
“Angels,” you say. “That’s what you are, isn’t it?”
A pause. Then the songbird smiles. “That’s what humans call us, yes, though there isn’t much divine about us at all” they say. “But yes, we still live. A few of us.” They look back at you. “What do you know of the war?”
“The usual,” you say, though probably less than usual is closer to the truth. No one in the village is dying to teach you history lessons. “They fought, the angels. For a hundred years they waged war against their own, breaking in the world in the process. Then I guess someone won.” You shrug. “Now the war is over.” The songbird’s smile turns mischievous. You huff, annoyed. “Fine. Explain it to me then.”
They jump down, and with every step they take in your direction the tree’s pull grows fainter. They are naked, too, though they don’t seem to care in the least about it. “As you [[wish|the guardian hungering tree 6]].”
You frown. You are missing something here. An inside joke, a shared memory. You shiver, pain lacing across your skull.
“A hundred years ago,” the songbird begins, unaware or ignoring your struggle. “An angel took arms against our ruling body, and others quickly followed them. They were powerful, you see. Maybe the most powerful of us all.” They pause, a touch of melancholy in their voice. They are so close now you can see the darker spots across their skin. “The reason doesn’t matter much at this point. But it was a good reason, in the beginning. Though not for long.” They stop, looking at you. “They became too dangerous. Uncontrollable. Unstoppable. Things were spiraling out of control. The world was broken, reality was shattering, time itself was unraveling. We are not meant to fight each other, of course. No race given such power is allowed to use it as they wish, with no care for who bleeds in its wake.”
You wait for them to continue, but they don’t. “They were defeated, though,” you insist. “Weren’t they? Otherwise…” you trail off, unsettled. The songbird huffs and nod. “But how?”
They turn to you, stepping in your direction. You stop yourself from stepping back, their red eyes holding all of your world like a butterfly pinned to a wall. Their wings open, hiding the monstrous tree and its monstrous heart from view, enveloping you in a night that belongs only to you both. You only hear your own breathing, struggling against the hold of silence.
“Betrayal,” the songbird says, voice cutting like the edge of a knife. “How [[else|the guardian hungering tree 7]]?”
//Betrayal//, the word echoes in your mind. //Betrayal, betrayal, betrayal//.
Pain slices across your chest. For a terrifying moment, you think the songbird has struck you, that their claws are buried deep into your flesh, that your blood now gushes freely against their gray skin. But they haven’t moved. The pain is inside you, rattling against your empty chest like a beast howling inside its cage. //Betrayal//, the beast growls. //How else?//
You're overcome with the need to touch them. To feel their skin against yours, their lips against your own. //Betrayal//, you remind yourself, blood humming under your fingertips. You don't care.
[[Reach for them.|the guardian hungering tree 8A][$songbird_points += 1]]
[[Step back.|the guardian hungering tree 8B]]
You stumble back, away from the songbird’s winged night, from the temptation of their lips, their touch. They step back, too, eyes and expression morphing back into blankness. You stare at each other for a moment, until you can’t help but look away. They huff, wings unfurling yet again, and jump into the air. And just like that, they are gone.
You stay still for a long time, hollow chest aching against its emptiness. Then you make your way back to the village, walking, then running, away from the tree, the heart and the angel once perched on its <<if $visited_tree == true and $visited_cove == true>>[[branches|the choice]]<<else>><<if $know_about_cove == true>>[[branches|hub]].<<else>>[[branches|hub3]]<</if>><</if>>.
You step forward and for a moment the songbird is close, so close, and yet not close enough. But then they are gone, wings flapping. You blink, raising your eyes in time to see them cast a last glance in your direction, gaze once again devoid of emotion, wings unfurled.
They jump into the air and just like that they are gone.
You stay still for a long time, lips tingling, hollow chest aching against its emptiness. Then you make your way back to the village, walking, then running, away from the tree, the heart and the angel once perched on its <<if $visited_tree == true and $visited_cove == true>>[[branches|the choice]]<<else>><<if $know_about_cove == true>>[[branches|hub]].<<else>>[[branches|hub3]]<</if>><</if>>.
The guardian is here, standing against a table near the portrait, shirtless, eyes burning. They don’t look at you like the villagers do; there is no fear in their gaze, no suspicion, only anger. You hold back a bitter laugh - what sad life have you led, that someone hating you doesn’t seem as bad?
But you must //know//. You must //have//. The desire burning in your chest is for answers, for a heart to call your own, for a life you haven’t lived yet, a life you can now see in that painting. And to achieve all you want you must reach for what would be otherwise locked away from you.
So you turn to face them directly, to observe them as they do you. Their fair skin is marked by more drawings, some faded, some still ink-black, very few with colors. They cover their shoulders, their chest and even snake their way up their neck, though nothing mars their face. You are struck by the odd pair you two make here, staring at each other; the village outcast, a heartless being with no memory, no name, no future, and the village guardian, their sword in the darkness, the one protection they have against whatever the broken world has birthed in the last few years.
It’d be funny, yes, if you couldn’t feel the heat of their gaze against your skin.
“You hate me,” you say quietly, ignoring their question.
The guardian frowns and for the first time the hatred in their eyes fades. “Hate //you//?” they let out a muffled sound. It takes you a moment to realize it’s laughter, bitter and, yes, angry. “I wish.”
You shiver.
<div class="choices">[[You wish? “Why?”|the guardian cove 3A][$knowledege_points +=1]]
[[A pang of hurt spreads through you. “Should I just leave you alone, then?”|the guardian cove 3B][$guardian_points +=1]]
[[Stay silent.|the guardian cove 3C]]</div>
Does it matter?” They don’t wait for you to say that //yes, of course it does//. Their eyes harden. “Answer me.”
“I came to ask you questions,” you say slowly. “I thought…” you trail off, gaze moving to the portrait by their side. //You//. “You knew me.”
The guardian is so still you doubt they are breathing. You take a few steps in their direction, slightly comforted by how they don’t try to move away when you stop in front of them. They are taller, and even leaning against the wooden table, they still stand a full head above you. You raise your eyes.
For a moment you think about turning, about leaving, but their presence tugs at you in <<if $visited_tree is true>>the same way the songbird’s does - <</if>>the same way the hungering tree has always called for you.
The thought is an unsettling one, but not, you realize with a start, an unwelcome one. This close you can see the way their mouth tightens, their fingers curl. They don’t hate you, you remind yourself, and maybe they are even telling the truth. Maybe it’s not rage you have always seen in their startling green eyes - maybe, just maybe, it’s hurt. Regret, yet again. //Grief//.
Surprisingly, it’s the guardian who breaks the silence. “You must not go to the tree again,” they say, still not looking at you. “Stay away. It’s not safe. Not for you, not for any of us.”
You bite down on your lip, vaguely annoyed. “I know it’s not safe.” You pause. “But I must go. I need a heart, and that tree is the only thing that will offer me one.”
The guardian scoffs. “You don’t //need// a heart. You can live just fine without one.”
Now you are //definitely// annoyed. “Give up yours then,” you bite back. “If it’s so easy to live without one.” They don’t answer and your anger rises. “I will have it. This life, it isn’t…” You swallow, jaw clenching in an effort to keep your voice even. You let out a breath. “This is no life one would ever aspire to lead.”
The guardian lets out a strangled, almost pained sound. “Don’t,” they bite out, turning away from you, words so warped by emotion you can barely understand them. “Don’t say that. Any life you lead… //any life you lead//… would be worth it. Would be precious. [[Don’t|the guardian cove 4]].” For a quick, almost imagined moment, the guardian’s eyes soften. “No.” They don’t wait for any more of your questions. They sigh. “Answer me.”
“I came to ask you questions,” you say slowly. “I thought…” you trail off, gaze moving to the portrait by their side. //You//. “You knew me.”
The guardian is so still you doubt they are breathing. You take a few steps in their direction, slightly comforted by how they don’t try to move away when you stop in front of them. They are taller, and even leaning against the wooden table, they still stand a full head above you. You raise your eyes.
For a moment you think about turning, about leaving, but their presence tugs at you in <<if $visited_tree is true>>the same way the songbird’s does - <</if>>the same way the hungering tree has always called for you.
The thought is an unsettling one, but not, you realize with a start, an unwelcome one. This close you can see the way their mouth tightens, their fingers curl. They don’t hate you, you remind yourself, and maybe they are even telling the truth. Maybe it’s not rage you have always seen in their startling green eyes - maybe, just maybe, it’s hurt. Regret, yet again. //Grief//.
Surprisingly, it’s the guardian who breaks the silence. “You must not go to the tree again,” they say, still not looking at you. “Stay away. It’s not safe. Not for you, not for any of us.”
You bite down on your lip, vaguely annoyed. “I know it’s not safe.” You pause. “But I must go. I need a heart, and that tree is the only thing that will offer me one.”
The guardian scoffs. “You don’t //need// a heart. You can live just fine without one.”
Now you are //definitely// annoyed. “Give up yours then,” you bite back. “If it’s so easy to live without one.” They don’t answer and your anger rises. “I will have it. This life, it isn’t…” You swallow, jaw clenching in an effort to keep your voice even. You let out a breath. “This is no life one would ever aspire to lead.”
The guardian lets out a strangled, almost pained sound. “Don’t,” they bite out, turning away from you, words so warped by emotion you can barely understand them. “Don’t say that. Any life you lead… //any life you lead//… would be worth it. Would be precious. [[Don’t|the guardian cove 4]].” The guardian scowls at your silence. They huff, annoyed. “Answer me.”
“I came to ask you questions,” you say slowly. “I thought…” you trail off, gaze moving to the portrait by their side. //You//. “You knew me.”
The guardian is so still you doubt they are breathing. You take a few steps in their direction, slightly comforted by how they don’t try to move away when you stop in front of them. They are taller, and even leaning against the wooden table, they still stand a full head above you. You raise your eyes.
For a moment you think about turning, about leaving, but their presence tugs at you in <<if $visited_tree is true>>the same way the songbird’s does - <</if>>the same way the hungering tree has always called for you.
The thought is an unsettling one, but not, you realize with a start, an unwelcome one. This close you can see the way their mouth tightens, their fingers curl. They don’t hate you, you remind yourself, and maybe they are even telling the truth. Maybe it’s not rage you have always seen in their startling green eyes - maybe, just maybe, it’s hurt. Regret, yet again. //Grief//.
Surprisingly, it’s the guardian who breaks the silence. “You must not go to the tree again,” they say, still not looking at you. “Stay away. It’s not safe. Not for you, not for any of us.”
You bite down on your lip, vaguely annoyed. “I know it’s not safe.” You pause. “But I must go. I need a heart, and that tree is the only thing that will offer me one.”
The guardian scoffs. “You don’t //need// a heart. You can live just fine without one.”
Now you are //definitely// annoyed. “Give up yours then,” you bite back. “If it’s so easy to live without one.” They don’t answer and your anger rises. “I will have it. This life, it isn’t…” You swallow, jaw clenching in an effort to keep your voice even. You let out a breath. “This is no life one would ever aspire to lead.”
The guardian lets out a strangled, almost pained sound. “Don’t,” they bite out, turning away from you, words so warped by emotion you can barely understand them. “Don’t say that. Any life you lead… //any life you lead//… would be worth it. Would be precious. [[Don’t|the guardian cove 4]].” The silence stretches on this time. You are breathing hard, you realize, and your eyes sting, tears turning your vision blurry. “No one here will ever accept me as I am. No one here will ever want a heartless like me.”
The guardian sighs again and sits on one of the chairs by the table, fingers going straight to the brushes scattered across the wooden surface. “You could leave,” they say. “There are other places out there, I know there are. One of them will not care. You could live a happy life away from all this. From the heart, from the tree.” They look at you over their shoulder, and their green eyes turn so soft it’s almost painful to be under their gaze, their gentle, painfully vast //love//. “I could protect you out there. I could lead you to safety.”
<div class="choices">[[Their words cut deep, their softness sharp, unyielding. “Would you do that?”|the guardian cove 5A][$guardian_points += 1]]
[[You look away. “I can’t do that.”|the guardian cove 5B]]</div>
The guardian smiles, but it is a sad, frail thing. “I learned the hard way there is nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for you. That is my cross to bear.” They pause to study you, searching for face, looking for the answer we both know it’s there. Their shoulders slump, and they look tired - tired, old, and spent. “But you will not come.”
There is no use denying that. “No,” you say softly. “I’m sorry. I must know.”
They sigh. “So you must.”
You stare at them, unable to form words, to articulate your thoughts in something that would ease their pain or your own. There is so much you don’t know - about yourself, about the guardian<<if $visited_tree is true>> or the songbird<</if>>, about your story together. That’s why you can’t leave, why you must stay, face the hungering tree and steal away the heart - so you will //know//, so you will //remember//.
Vertical slashes across the guardian’s back catch your gaze. Their hair is swept away, revealing more of the skin there, which is also covered by more drawings and random bursts of color, but the scars cut through them, starting near their shoulders and ending much lower. You know exactly what they are.
//Wings.//
Your fingers tremble when you raise them. The guardian is warm under your touch, the scar tissue rough against your skin. They go terribly still and you don’t dare to move, at least not at first. The whole world falls around you both as you trace the scar with your fingertips. Your voice wavers. “Where are your [[wings?|the guardian cove 6]]”
The guardian smiles, but it is a sad, frail thing. “That’s what I thought,” they say, resigned.
“I’m sorry,” you say. “But I must know.”
They sigh. “So you must.”
You stare at them, unable to form words, to articulate your thoughts in something that would ease their pain or your own. There is so much you don’t know - about yourself, about the guardian<<if $visited_tree is true>> or the songbird<</if>>, about your story together. That’s why you can’t leave, why you must stay, face the hungering tree and steal away the heart - so you will //know//, so you will //remember//.
Vertical slashes across the guardian’s back catch your gaze. Their hair is swept away, revealing more of the skin there, which is also covered by more drawings and random bursts of color, but the scars cut through them, starting near their shoulders and ending much lower. You know exactly what they are.
//Wings.//
Your fingers tremble when you raise them. The guardian is warm under your touch, the scar tissue rough against your skin. They go terribly still and you don’t dare to move, at least not at first. The whole world falls around you both as you trace the scar with your fingertips. Your voice wavers. “Where are your [[wings?|the guardian cove 6]]”A painful, charged silence. “Gone,” is all they say in the end. You nod, knowing immediately this is your fault. The old you hurt them terribly, in a way current you can’t possibly begin to understand. It gnaws at you, this knowledge, eating away at the barriers you built across the years.
You sit on the chair by their side. You grab their brushes, the ink smudging your fingers. You’ve done this before. You know it deep down, more than you know anything in this world, with a certainty and intensity that would scare you in any other moment. But this feels… familiar. Leaning against them, feeling the warmth of their skin, watching the ink seep into their flesh.
You lean away when you are done, drying away the tears with dirty fingers. You doodled flowers on their shoulder, coloring them in red and blue and purple. Those feel familiar, too, you realize almost angrily. But that anger fades away when the guardian //pulls// at the drawings, tearing them away from their own skin, and the flowers bloom, real, their perfume already filling the air. As you watch, most of them crumble to dust, incapable of maintaining their own form for long, but one perseveres. A blue one. The guardian places it carefully behind your ear, fingers brushing against your cheek to rest on your chin.
Then they move away, the loss of contact tilts your world for a moment, struggling against being thrown off balance. You are still close enough to feel them sigh. “Go.”
A pause, too terrible to bear for long. You think about speaking, but in the end you can’t. You obey. You turn and you <<if $visited_tree == true and $visited_cove == true>>[[leave|the choice]]<<else>><<if $know_about_cove == true>>[[leave|hub]].<<else>>[[leave|hub3]]<</if>><</if>>.<<set $location = "home">>You wake up tasting blood.
You roll over. The room’s wooden floor is cold against your back, and the moonlight is too weak to illuminate much beyond your cot and the shape of the walls. You turn and throw up, stomach turning. You feel feverish, sick, your blood boiling in your veins. Trembling fingers ghost above your chest, feeling the scar there. You stand up, swaying. You know who put it there. You know why.
But you still don’t know everything.
Beyond the window, the hungering tree beckons.
And you [[answer|the guardian hanging heart 2]].
The guardian finds you as you stumble through the village, slowly making your way to the hungering tree. You are not trying to be quiet and by now many eyes look on from behind shuttered windows, but you don’t find it in yourself to care. You eye the guardian, who stops by your side. You take a deep breath, eyes burning, fingers itching, though you are not sure what for. You want to ask for forgiveness. You want to bury your face in their neck and cry. You want to push them away, forever. You want to bring them close and never let go.
But when they offer you their hand, you realize it is enough, for now.
Together, you leave the village and walk up the hungering tree’s hill. You are not surprised to find the songbird - your songbird - waiting by the fence, arms crossed over their chest, wings closed behind their back. They take a look at you both and smile, waiting. You stop for a moment, the memory of pain, blood and broken bone surfacing in your mind, but you quickly push them away. The guardian helps you climb the fence, and the songbird is there to catch you on the other side. They don’t let go of your hand, and for now that is enough.
You three approach the hungering tree in silence. Its pull is weaker now, but still intense enough to cloud your vision, to tug at your conscience like a well-buried thorn. You breathe in, slowly, and let out a laugh. “My monstrous tree,” you whisper, then your gaze moves to the hanging heart, shimmering in its lonely branch. “My monstrous heart.”
How weird it is to think it has always been yours. That the old man was right, in a way. It //was// an angel once, a hundred years ago. So were you. The hungering tree is your legacy, a terrible thing that was once, maybe, born of love. A good reason, the songbird said. But not for long.
“Aren’t you afraid,” you begin, voice low. “Of what I’ll become if I succeed now?”
//Would you do it again?// is what you don’t ask, but when your eyes meet the songbird’s you know they heard it all the same. They offer you a sad, tired smile.
“I don’t know,” they say. “Maybe I should be. But you are right, you know.” They glance at the tree, at its gentle but maddened swaying, moving in a wind that doesn’t blow. “This is your monstrous tree. Your monstrous heart. You, in a way. And you’ve been denying yourself your own power for a hundred years now. Maybe you are more afraid than I will ever be.”
There is a moment of silence and then you turn to the guardian. “Would you do it again?”
They squeeze your hand. “To do everything for you is my cross to bear,” they say, and you smile, eyes burning with unshed tears. “There is no question about that.”
You squeeze their hand back. “I know.”
You step forward, away from them. The hungering tree rises in front of you, pulling at you, whispering your long forgotten name in a language you still can’t quite understand. You shiver.
The hanging heart - //your// hanging heart - beckons, calling you home.
<<if $knowledge_points >= 3>><div class="final-choice">[[Reach for the heart.|success]]</div><<else>><div class="final-choice">[[Reach for the heart.|fail state]]</div><</if>>
<<set $location = "the end">>you've finished the game!!!!
thank you for playing. i hope you enjoyed the experience!!
you can find me on my <a href="https://raindev.tumblr.com">dev blog</a>, where i post about all my projects, or on my <a href="https://twitter.com/raininthewoods">twitter</a> (which is 18+, so be careful!), where i mostly yell about ffxiv, drawing or writing.
if you enjoyed //the hanging heart// (or even if you didn't, i guess), please feel free to check out the intro post for my main project, //briarheart//, <a href="https://raindev.tumblr.com/post/663432660529676288/briarheart-interactive-fiction-game-fantasy">here</a>.
you can submit any bug reports on my dev blog (link above) or here on the itch.io, through the comments.
thanks to <a href="https://interact-if.tumblr.com/">interact-if</a> for organizing the jam. it was a lot of fun!
best,
<div class="author">- rain.</div>
<<set $location = "the in between">><div class="confirmation"><img src="the_tavern.png"></div>
the thorn on your side. everyone in the village is a bit suspicious of you - comes with being the only person alive without a heart - but they? they seem to actively hate you, and you have never figured out why.
<div class="choices">[[Proceed.|the guardian tavern][$visited_tavern = true]]
<<if $know_about_cove == true>>[[I changed my mind|hub]].<<else>>[[I changed my mind.|hub3]]<</if>></div><<set $location = "the in between">><div class="confirmation"><img src="the_songbird.png"></div>
the thing hiding amidst the branches of the hungering tree. strange, dangerous, too interested in you as far as you are concerned. they could take the hanging heart at any moment, but they haven’t - why?
<div class="choices">[[Proceed.|the guardian hungering tree][$visited_tree = true]]
<<if $know_about_cove == true>>[[I changed my mind|hub]].<<else>>[[I changed my mind|hub3]]<</if>></div><<set $location = "the in between">><div class="confirmation"><img src="the_guardian.png"></div>
the thorn on your side. everyone in the village is a bit suspicious of you - comes with being the only person alive without a heart - but they? they seem to actively hate you, and you have never figured out why.
<div class="choices">
[[Proceed.|the guardian cove][$visited_cove = true]]
<<if $know_about_cove == true>>[[I changed my mind|hub]].<<else>>[[I changed my mind.|hub3]]<</if>></div><<set $location = "the in between">><div class="confirmation"><img src="the_guardian.png"></div>
the thorn on your side. everyone in the village is a bit suspicious of you - comes with being the only person alive without a heart - but they? they seem to actively hate you, and you have never figured out why.
<div class="choices">[[Proceed.|the songbird tavern][$visited_tavern = true]]
[[I changed my mind.|hub2]]</div><<set $location = "the in between">><div class="confirmation"><img src="the_songbird.png"></div>
the thing hiding amidst the branches of the hungering tree. strange, dangerous, too interested in you as far as you are concerned. they could take the hanging heart at any moment, but they haven’t - why?
<div class="choices">[[Proceed.|the songbird river][$visited_river = true]]
[[I changed my mind.|hub2]]</div><<set $location = "the in between">><div class="confirmation"><img src="the_tree.png"></div>
it is a beautiful but dangerous, almost malicious thing. it rises high, trunk white as snow, leaves a mix of gold and crimson. no one dares to approach it, not anymore - too many lost their minds to its vicious pull, but none can resist casting a quick glance, admiring its vibrancy against the dead sky or even coveting the shimmering heart hanging from its lower branches.
you most of all.
<div class="choices">[[Proceed.|the songbird hungering tree][$visited_tree = true]]
[[I changed my mind.|hub2]]</div>