Silhouette

Robed figures walked Among carved stone walls, their fingers gloved in brown cloth tracing the grooves in the stone, both those done by the mastered chisels of mankind and the scratches and wear nature had made. Despite their various heights and body shapes, all those wandering in these grey corridors, hidden from the sun, looked the same. They were dressed in green from head to toe, the cloak draping over their shoulders and covering their every feature being made of vines weaved together, still fresh, still alive. The hoods of their attire combined with their masks of bark were the finishing touches to fully hide their identity. The wood on their faces let out a beautiful perfume, the intoxicating freedom of a hike in the forest, and none of them reacted to the small critters that dwelled in it. They ignored the way the legs of the carpenter ants felt on their skin as they went from one entrance of their nest to another, and let the bugs do as they pleased.

The fingers running on the walls were delicate in their movements, making sure not to disturb those that had dug nests in the crevasses or the plants that had grown to use the stone as support, leaving their roots and stems just as secured as they were. Every leaf was treated with the same respect and care a newborn child was given, every creature, be they bumble bees, lizards, or mice, was venerated as a lord. The only sounds disturbing the quiet melody of nature were the figures' footsteps, and even then those were silenced, as light as possible. They continued their trek under the gentle blue light of the glowworms above, the enchanting droplets on their long lone dropping strings of web combined with their shining bodies creating a spectacle that could rival the night skies.

At last, they reached their goal. The corridor they had followed led to a grand cavern, one so large it could have easily welcomed the largest sporting events in the city had anyone discovered it and dared to ruin its magnificence. The lights of the larvae above shone brighter and more numerous than the stars themselves, and despite their many visits to this holy place, they all found themselves just as captivated by the sight as they had been on their first arrival. Unlike the silence of the path they had taken, however, this cave featured a buzzing sound, a song not from man, but life. Blue bees, marvelous critters whose chitin and hairs capable of rivaling sapphires and lapis lazuli, saw their innate enchanting bodies further enhanced by the ambient luminescence. There was no fear in the eyes of the pilgrims, even in the privacy of the hidden space behind their masks. They knew they would not be harmed, that they were just as part of the hive as their insectile kin.

The group left their corridor, leaving the rectangular opening crowned by an archway behind, and vines gently rolled down to cover this path to their inner sanctum, to preserve them from the prying eyes of the unenlightened and the heretics. Fools could not appreciate beauty. Madmen would rather destroy what is right than admit they are wrong. The newcomers joined the thousands already gathered here, waiting together in the middle of this great cavern, but they weren't the last. They could see them, coming from dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of other openings in the stone. None could know the true number of entrances to this holy place, not only were the walls covered in vibrant emerald plantlife that hid the stone and commanded dexterous vines, but they also had to account for the ways their smaller kin flew or crawled or swam in and out of the cave.

The figures carefully watched their steps, not simply to avoid falling in the bottomless wells and puddles spread throughout the room, but also to preserve any of their animalistic or fungal or floral brethren that might have chosen to join their gathering. Few were those beside the Golden Blooms on the walls and the Diamond Flies above that dared to enter this domain, too overwhelmed by its majesty to trek through it without the gift of sapience, but there were some.

They waited there, minutes, hours perhaps. At long last the vines and leaves of green surrounding them shifted, and the flowers that had been hidden in their buds camouflaged in their greater mass so far revealed themselves. The gathered began to chant, a holy hymn to their leader and his doctrine that only they could understand, that the unfaithful could never comprehend. Though they were sworn to act as one, those present here did feel somewhat superior to their fellows elsewhere in the city at the moment. On this day, He had chosen to bless them by appearing himself here.

The buds opened, and large golden flowers bloomed. They only featured four petals, but how mesmerizing they were. Each was shaped as a heart, a symbol of life, of love, of vigor, but their points were aimed outward, a reminder that life, no matter how meek, could defend itself. They were positioned in pairs, one closest to the center and hugging the stamen and the pistils with their curves, while the second was perpendicular to the first, a little further away from the delectable core. The magnificent flowers, whose size ran from as small as nails to larger than men, shared a similar oddity: their reproductive organs, their stamens and pistils, as well as their pollen were a beautiful red. Not the hue of blood, but a brighter, more joyful one.

Clouds of this colorful pollen fell from their cores, their weight dragging them down to the ground leading them to wash over the pilgrims in a great wave, as though an ethearal liquid. Miraculously the red particles did not stick to their green robes, their wooden masks, or any of their features hidden beneath their attire. No, they fell like snowflakes but slid off them before mysteriously rising back up before they reached the ground. What had appeared in a wave driven by gravity now turned into the rise of particles as though a mirror of a bizarre yet enchanting red snowing.

The first of the pollen reached the glowing blue strings of the worms above and stuck to them. The bioluminescence was strong enough to pass through the flowers' release, leaving the room as illuminated as it was previously.

Then, he was among them. None of his followers knew when or how he had arrived, but they could all feel it at once as he revealed his presence. He was there, in the center of the room, slowly rising above his flock thanks to the vines beneath his feet.

He was no great druid or forbidden child of a dryad, no, he was but a mere humble man. Dark blonde hair weaved in a multitude of small braids decorated his cranium, the longest of them reaching only slightly below his shoulders. A serene and welcoming smile, drawn over between the slightly chubby cheeks of a healthy face with a light tan. A small nose, and a smooth chin that was the perfect in-between of squarish and pointy. Emerald eyes, sparkling with love and kindness drew the attention. None could be judged for being lost in his gaze.

His lean yet muscular body was partially visible beneath the vegetation that covered most of his skin, large leaves replacing sheets of cloth while vines and roots replaced the threads, the singular chimeric plant alive and thriving on his form, a fact made obvious by its blooming flowers, each one of the small dots a unique color different from the rest. Flora wasn't all that called the glorious leader's body home, fauna partook in it as well. A pair of magnificent ladybugs, each larger than a man's hand, acted as shoulder pads, nibbling on small berries produced by the green beneath. Silkworms and glowworms worked side by side to produce their strong bindings, living in small nests all over the leaves as blue-glowing and white threads acted together to help their vegetal host keep its shape. Not only that, the colorful lines on the shifting hues of green beneath drew beautiful curves, meaningless symbols designed by them alone, examples of nature's careless beauty. There were more bugs hidden between the leaves of course, but they were more subtle and timid than the others.

And the mushrooms! How could anyone forget the fungal touch? Translucent mycelium ran over the attire, and plates of spongy reddish brown flesh grew to cover the body where more resilience and durability were needed, such as to form a mimicry of a belt or to form a hard yet flexible padding for his feet to protect them from traitorous terrain and retain heat.

The bizarre ensemble formed by the cooperation of vastly different forms of life was undoubtedly a chaotic sight, but it was as breathtaking as the sunrise in a wild jungle. Some leaves formed an approximation of a coat that draped over his shoulders until the middle of his back, much like others attempted the form long flowing sleeves, only they failed to cover more than the bottom of the arm, and they would obviously fall off were it not for the threads binding them. The largest leaf of all began at the waist, forming a loincloth that hung down to the knees while growing wider than his hips at its largest point. His legs for their part were covered by greenery that hugged them close until it flared out at the ankles, nearly hiding from view the fungal flesh further below.

His exposed hands spread wide he welcomed his people, warmth and love radiating from his smooth charming voice.

"Children of life, I am blessed to see you all on this day."

Cries of admiration and devotion rose from the crowd, and they all ignored the way some of them were carried away by swarms of blue bees. Even the newcomers in this holy place knew their kin would never turn on them. They paid no attention to the heretical spies and the betrayers, and only focused on the Biflora as he reached greater heights.

"On this day, I share with you all, both those present in the same cavern as I and those listening to the whispers of our floral friends, news of change."

At once they went silent, not that any of them had been foolish enough to talk over his voice in the first place.

"Our brethren throughout the kingdoms of life all shared the same news: Abrabakoom is heading on the path of war, seeking retribution for the fall of a fellow malicious magician. His target is known to us, but who this Silhouette truly is, and his connection to our beloved nature, is a mystery to me. Our kin in the police have informed me he is being investigated, and those in the media foretold an interview that might hopefully cast away the shadows of secrets on this master of darkness, to tell his goals and wishes. But know this, my friends: he will be invited to partake in our love of life all the same."

He fell silent for a moment, letting hushed whispers run between the members of his flock, exchanging theories, hopes, and concerns for some long seconds before he resumed.

"Should he sadly reveal himself to be yet another soldier in the ranks of the blasphemous, he will be treated as such. Even then, as evolution dictates, the time has come for Zalcien to change, grow, and adapt, or die. With the sinister sorcerer preoccupied and on the way to cause more trouble for the misguided Heroes of the Union than ever before, this is our chance to purge the Wicked from the land, to finally put an end to those unnatural manipulations of the world and enslavement of our floral kin. With the calamitous cabal defanged, only the scorching hate and greed of the blooded fools and the cold unfeeling pride of the atrocious artificer will stand between this city and its salvation."

The pilgrims cheered, and the plants and creatures joined them, leaves shaking, petals throbbing, worms squishing, bees buzzing.

"Yes! Our purification of this tainted earth is at hand! Once more will the people revel in the glory of nature and let it run its course, let the evergoing race for improvement continue! May mutations run rampant and determine the fate of mankind once more!"

They all knew these words, and at once, they all spoke their hymn with him.

""Life breeds death! Death breeds challenge! Challenge breeds life!""

"And may the unrepentant heretics see the truth of our words! May they see the warm embrace of nature as it welcomes them back from the uncaring stagnancy of technology!"

""Flesh breeds love! Metal breeds hate!""

"And may the world resume its growth! Free from this artificial cancer!"

""May the vines grow high! May the roots grow deep!""

Their chant was echoed throughout many places such as this one in Zalcien, the form of their beloved Biflora formed by swarms of insects working as one as his words were relayed by the golden flowers on the walls, flapping their petals and shaking their stamens to reproduce his holy voice. His call was answered by countless cultists, faithfully worshipping him and his vision, careless of the consequences of his goals would bring.

Many in the city of Zalcien realized the Hivines were a threat to the peace. Few truly understood how large this cult of life and nature had grown, and how deadly this cancer to civilization was.

The incoming wave of change would let them all see.