My world-tree system-Chapter 56 - 55: Dancing

- Three days. he murmured

Three days before the full moon shone down on their land, carrying with it the promise of a future.

Foster stood before the gathered elves, their gaze fixed on him. Some were hopeful, others still hesitant. But all knew that this moment would mark a turning point.

The wind blew gently through the branches of the Mother Tree, rustling the leaves in a soothing whisper. It was as if she herself was listening.

Foster took a deep breath.

He took a step forward and looked into the eyes of his people.

- I’ve gathered you here to tell you a little more about the ritual!

His voice was firm and confident.

- First of all, thank you all for your hard work and your precision in setting it up!

A heavy silence greeted her words. They had all felt this inevitability. But it was time to crush it.

- Now we’re going to have to dance.

Foster let them digest the information, then continued.

- But to achieve it, we’ll have to be united in this dance.

He took another step forward, his gaze becoming more intense.

- United by our very essence.

A shiver ran through the assembly.

Some of the elves exchanged puzzled looks. A dance?

Foster watched them, expecting this reaction.

- Because this dance is more than just movement.

His gaze hardened.

- She is a link.

A murmur ran through the assembly.

- Our bodies will dance, yes. But that’s not what matters. What matters is that our souls will dance together.

He clenched his fist.

- Through this dance, we will synchronise. Our hearts, our minds, our vital energy. We will become one entity.

This time, the reactions were different.

Some elves opened their eyes wide, others felt a glimmer of excitement rise up inside them.

- We are the last elves of the World Tree. We are the survivors. And together, we will give birth to the future.’

Foster lowered his arms and took a few steps backwards.

He knew he couldn’t just talk to them. He had to show them.

- I’m going to teach you this dance. You must master it perfectly.

His tone was unmistakable.

- Because when the full moon rises... it won’t just be a ritual.’

He let his gaze slide over each of them.

- It will be an oath.

He slowly raised his hand.

- Prepare yourselves. We begin now.’

Foster inhaled deeply. The wind carried the smell of earth and damp leaves. Around him, the elves formed a compact, silent circle, their eyes fixed on his. They were waiting.

He passed his gaze over them. There weren’t many of them, but they were there. Despite the losses, despite the pain, they stood, their backs straight, their eyes burning with expectation and curiosity.

He swallowed and took a step forward.

- I’ll show you the movements, one by one. Watch closely. This is no ordinary dance. It tells our story. It is the bridge between us and the Mother Tree. It is the essence of our rebirth.

Silence reigned in the clearing. The elves were all gathered around Foster, their eyes shining with a gleam mixed with anticipation and curiosity. Some were impatient, others puzzled.

Foster took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. He could still see those immaterial silhouettes, those ancient carriers of the seed, dancing in his mind like shadows on water. The dance was not just a ritual. It was a language.

At last he opened his eyes and took a step back.

- Watch carefully.

Without waiting, he executed the first movement.

His foot hit the ground, his arms twisted in an irregular trajectory, his body rocked forward and then back, as if caught in an invisible current. His movements were crude, disorganised but precise.

The elves watched in silence. Their eyes crinkled, trying to decipher what they were seeing.

Then, without a word, Foster made his second move.

His body folded in on itself, his arms closed in an almost defensive movement, before unfolding again. His balance seemed to waver for a moment, but he immediately found a foothold and continued.

Then came the third movement.

Foster pivoted, raised his arms and drew a fluid circle around himself as he moved slowly forward. His movements stretched, his rhythm calmed.

The fourth movement blended into the dance as if it were a matter of course.

His hands drew complex arabesques in the air, as if they were capturing something invisible. His torso curved slightly, following a flow that belonged to him alone.

And finally, the fifth movement.

He stood still, planted his feet firmly in the ground and slowly raised his arms like tree branches seeking the light. His breath calmed, his posture stabilised.

The dance ended on a suspended note. Like a whisper left hanging in the wind.

Foster let the silence settle.

The elves hadn’t moved. Some had parted their lips, as if they were about to speak, but no words came. Their gaze was fixed on him, absorbed, almost lost.

Then, slowly, he released the tension in his body and straightened up.

- Now you try it.

Köflik was the first to move forward. He approached, stiff and hesitant. He wanted to understand.

Foster nodded and raised a hand.

- Step by step. Don’t think. Just follow me.’

He executed the first movement again, but this time more slowly.

Köflik tried to imitate. His foot hit the ground too carefully and his torso was too stiff. Foster shook his head.

- Looser. Let the momentum guide you.’

Köflik did it again. This time, it was better.

Another elf stepped forward, then another. Soon, the whole group was trying to execute the movement. Some naturally found the right rhythm, others were clumsy. But everyone was trying.

Foster corrected them one by one. He adjusted the position of a shoulder, softened an arm that was too tense, showed them how to let themselves be carried without forcing them.

Once they had mastered the first movement, he showed them the second.

Then the third.

The fourth.

The fifth.

Their steps sometimes fell out of sync. Some stopped to watch, others grew more confident. But the collective movement was beginning to emerge.

The elves were panting slightly, their muscles still tense from the effort. They had just gone through each of the five movements separately, repeating them tirelessly under Foster’s watchful eye. He had corrected their postures, adjusted their movements, taught them to let themselves be carried along without forcing themselves.

But now it was time to show them what they had really learned.

Foster stepped back slowly, letting a silence settle in.

Then he raised his hand, calm and sure.

- Take a good look.

He didn’t give them time to think. His foot hit the ground and everything clicked.

The first movement, rough and jerky, seemed to follow no logic. His body wobbled, his torso plunged forward, then jerked back upright. A perfectly controlled imbalance.

Then, without pause, came the second movement.

Everything changed.

Where the first impulse had been a disorderly explosion, this one became a refocusing. His body bent, closed in on itself, before opening out in a wide, fluid movement. A breath of air, a release.

The third movement came naturally, like a stream following its course.

Foster pivoted on himself, his arms drawing a perfect circle. His foot found a foothold in the ground, and his gaze followed his movement. The sequence took shape, became a trajectory.

Then, the fourth movement crept into the dance like a matter of course.

His hands split the air gracefully, his torso bowed, his legs intertwined in a sequence so fluid it seemed he was never touching the ground again.

Finally, the fifth movement concluded the whole in absolute harmony.

Foster rose slowly to his feet, his arms raised, his hands open to the sky. His breath calmed, his motionless body still vibrating with the energy of the previous movement.

It was all there.

A dance that, separated into five pieces, seemed to be a chaos of unstructured gestures. But when it all came together... it was one and the same story.

A suspended moment.

None of the elves moved.

Their eyes were fixed on him, as if they had just witnessed a truth they had never perceived before.

The moment stretched on. They didn’t even blink any more.

Some, without realising it, had opened their mouths. Others trembled slightly, without even understanding why.

Foster had not simply danced.

He had shown them something ancient. Something buried in their blood, in their link with the World Tree.

And now that they had seen it, they could never forget it.

Foster breathed out slowly, then stared at them intently.

- Now... to you.

The silence broke.

Köflik was the first to move forward. He said nothing. He placed himself in the centre and closed his eyes.

He breathed in...

Then he moved and repeated.

Foster crossed his arms, watching the elves in front of him attentively. Their progress was undeniable, but it remained incomplete.

They had found a semblance of a common rhythm, the beginnings of a connection, but their movements still lacked precision and confidence. Some hesitated. Others pushed too hard.

He sighed lightly, running a hand over the back of his neck.

It was going to take some work. A lot of work.

They had to reach a state where their bodies would become one with the dance, where each movement would no longer be thought out, but instinctive, flowing like a stream of water, carried by the energy of the World Tree.

At the moment, this was far from being the case.

Some were already starting to sweat, their breaths were getting shorter, and they’d only been rehearsing for a few minutes.

’Three days... will they be ready in time?’

Foster clenched his fists slightly. They had no choice.

- ’It’s not that yet.’

The elves looked up at him, some disappointed, some frustrated.

- You’ve found a rhythm, and that’s good. But it’s not enough. This dance must be more than just a series of gestures. It must be... a truth. Your truth. If you don’t feel that energy inside you, then the ritual will fail.’

Silence.

- ’We’ll have to work. And work hard.’

He gave them no time to breathe.

- ’Start again.’

They were going to repeat, again and again, until this dance was anchored in their very being.