Death At A Funeral

The skies beyond the world tree were red as Kir watched from his perch about a kilometer away from the graveyard.

Unlike Norneau where cremation was the norm, here the dead were buried at the roots of the world tree. A fitting tribute to the massive entity that sustained the Kingdom in more ways than service as a nigh-unassailable capital.

A cursory investigation of the trunk had proven that it was entirely resistant to Kir trying to carve a hole into it with magic, and not just because the shell of the tree seemed to be half-composed of naturally occurring, magically reinforced carbon fiber. Trying to delve the tree's structure had given him the feeling of being watched, and so he stopped as soon as he felt it, not wanting to risk that there might be a great spirit he could offend by existing, as with the spirit of the lake.

The last thing he needed was to get swatted from behind by a tree that could have served as an orbital elevator on Earth's moon.