The giant tree was, if not dying, then certainly suffering. Purple plants spiralled up against its trunk, sharp thorns biting into the bark. Miles swept through them with his pick, hard enough to tear the rotted stems, soft enough to spare the wood beneath. The corruption had spread this far over the last few weeks?
The leaves were still green at least. Was that the purpose of the flowers at its roots? Purification? To protect this tree in particular? Or was it just a fluke? There was presumably no special reason behind the flower near the catacombs after all.
Once he finished circling its massive girth Miles glanced at the vista he'd viewed on his first morning, the avenue of trees, paved stone leading the way to those grey buildings. The tree, with its thick roots that spread out in all directions and the flowers that lay both sides of its entryway had so far blocked the taint from this area, if only for the moment. Even so, he could feel the aura of dull despair. Even the sun was muted through a grim haze.
How much green was left on this world? Would the corruption eventually engulf this tree completely and spread here as well? Would even the great wall one day fail?
The prospect was depressing.
Still, he wasn't going to save even one world by moping about it. Miles turned his attention to the door in the side of the tree, flanked by those twin flowers that shone brightly despite the muted sun.
Hopefully she'd give him enough time to get into the open before she turned into a giant flower monster or whatever.
"Stay out of trouble, Yorrick." Miles waved a hand to direct the skull towards the foliage above the door. It wordlessly drifted upwards, portal ring held between its bony fingers like a macabre cameraman, always focusing the ring towards him.
In the tiny portal, Miles could see the crude "raft" he'd built zooming towards a distant shore. Even at a fraction of the speed, it was still going to cover the distance in record time. If Sonic somehow fell into the water again, with knowledge of which direction the coast was he could just run the rest. It soothed a dull ache in Miles' chest, even as a new, fresh worry grew in its place.
He was alone. Absolutely and terribly so.
He'd been hoping, even against all reason, that Sonic would somehow come here. The hedgehog's unyielding heroism was a beacon in the dark, and he needed that light. It kept him… safe. Helped him focus on what was important. If Sonic were here he would succeed, because Miles wouldn't let him fail, and Sonic wouldn't let Miles lose himself, simply by being there, simply by being him.
But based on empirical data, there was at least a fifty to one time difference between the two planes. It was no Twilight Cage, the dimensional prison the last of the Echidna had been imprisoned in, along with various other species. The Cage had a one to four thousand time difference, but as far as anything mattered in the short term, it may as well be the same. It would take Sonic only a few minutes to reach his lab. That would be hours here. And then what? Was Shadow already there waiting? Were they communicating with G.U.N's science team? Did he manage to get Robotnik to help?
It was sad that he was half hoping for Eggman to be involved. The fat man could sometimes be persuaded when the world was at stake - assuming it wasn't his fault, and with the caveat that he would predictably betray them at the end. As it was, the reason Shadow had stabilised the portal at this size was either because that was the largest they could safely manifest it, or more likely because they'd opened it by mistake, just as Zeena had, and he couldn't close it all the way. Shadow was a genius in his own right - if comparatively modest by Miles or Eggman's standards, but solutions took time, testing, and resources. Miles had all the time in the world, but no resources, and no understanding of local physics to even know if a portal was possible from within. If it was, that begged the question of why the natives hadn't left, while any testing they did was going to take at least another month for him, maybe more.
And given how quickly the corruption had spread, a month could easily spell the end of this place. Cosmo had said this world was almost lost, and when it was that the cycle would begin again… He couldn't afford to wait for Sonic. He needed to grab any and every potential solution in the interim.
With a sigh to steady his nerves, Miles opened the door, slipping a torch into his hand as he stepped onto the wonky staircase into the depths.
It smelled like stale flowers. His footsteps echoed dully off the living wood, the darkness below swallowing his light in its depths. Miles kept walking, confident now he could see, now he was more familiar with this bizarre place and its rules, such as they were. Even the human size steps were easier to climb, if only a little. How long had she been here that her flowery scent was so ingrained in this place? Did she share the abilities of the golden flowers outside? He had so many questions, but would she even answer them? She hated him after all, for what he'd done. Or would do. Her only action towards him had been to educate him as to his folly, assuming she had any interest in helping him desperately flail at some kind of solution felt like foolishness.
But Skin had told him to come. Was his hesitation prudence or simple cowardice? He never reached the answer, his hand rapped on the door of Cosmo's room with a loud confidence that he didn't feel.
…
Nothing.
Miles knocked again, louder. Was she asleep? Worse? Had she fled this place and the taint surely just a few short metres through these living walls? Or succumbed to it, like her sister? Was she even now laying in ambush, waiting for him to foolishly venture into her lair?
He turned the handle, revealing candlelight beyond. Of course the candle was still lit. Why not? A candle would last a lifetime here, endlessly rejuvenating itself. But its flickering light revealed little more than emptiness. A simple bench and chair, an odd contraption that looked like a harp strung with leaves... no sign of Cosmo. Was this just some kind of office? She stayed in it the night he arrived, didn't she? Miles glanced behind himself at the still open door to the outside before slowly venturing in, torch vanishing into his hammerspace. A good hero was identified by a shameless disregard of others' personal property and privacy, after all, and he was almost a hero. At least by some metrics. It was basically the reason he'd met Sonic, so… tried and tested?
There, nestled behind the bench was the chest she mentioned, overgrown with leaves that seemed to be having no trouble in the dark. Maybe she had a futon in there? Some food? Something even a little normalising beyond this austere room in the dark?
… Nope. Three sticks and a book. Weird sticks too. Miles raised an eyebrow as he lifted the strangest of the three, a small bird perched on its end in rigid immobility.
Was it stuffed? It seemed alive. Like at any moment it might take flight. Miles shook the stick to try and dislodge it, but the bird remained stubbornly inert. Miles returned it to the chest with a frown. There was something off about the thing. Hopefully Cosmo didn't have a taxidermy hobby.
Hopefully Cosmo didn't get unreasonably angry for people touching her taxidermy hobby.
In comparison to the trio of weird, potentially physics defying sticks, the book was positively ordinary in its appearance. Miles peeked under the plain front cover with one squinted eye…
Okay, not a soul invading death book. He hopped up onto the human-sized chair, placing the book on the bench next to the candle as he shifted to get comfortable. Not any alphabet he was familiar with either. Three symbols - eye, skull, and… snake(?) adorned the front page. Each had a brief line of runes written beside them. A few lines after that and then those three symbols again, repeated line after line. On every single line, one or more of the symbols was struck out, with sometimes the entire line scored through as a whole instead, with a single rune written beside the symbols each time. Miles turned the page, exactly the same all the way down. Again. And again. He kept flipping through...
There. A few pages on, after how many repetitions he hadn't bothered to count, another blurb of runic text, four more symbols, each with their own line of runes. Two eyes, another snake facing the opposite way, and a spiky skull, along with a square with a fanged mouth in its centre.
Were the eye and skull related to those things he'd faced? Mister Skin and… Whatever unworldly horror was responsible for that giant eye? Was this a record of… of worlds?
Miles suddenly wished he'd thought to count the lines. If these did describe worlds were they all… him? He flipped through pages. Seven symbols became ten, along with a simple splash of colour, either red or purple, added next to each line. Twelve, then thirteen symbols, more and more lines were simply struck through now. Lost? Won? Fourteen symbols. Each little description might contain helpful advice on what lurked out there, but he had no way of deciphering it. No, all that mattered now was how many pages there were. How, if each of these symbols indicated an "outsider" like Mister Skin, more and more were being attracted over time, the situation growing more bleak for the worlds' inhabitants.
Until he reached the last page. A purple row. Eighteen symbols, with the snake and the mouth-square crossed through, and the entire line struck out with the success/failure rune written alongside. A lengthy paragraph was scrawled below in a far untidier fashion than the previous passages.
Miles didn't pay much attention, staring instead at the book itself. Hundreds pages, dozens of lines per page. Thousands of worlds? How many lost? Was that the future that awaited him? He'd spent centuries on Happy Days, was there any doubt he could live that long?
Or had already?
Miles wrapped his arms around a tail as he stared blankly at the page, dimly aware that his lip was hurting until he realised he was biting into it.
What did he know about himself, really? He lived on Cocoa Island alone, he had a note from his parents… But from when? Where had he been before Cocoa? Why did he have not one single memory of his mother's face? Why was his time so twisted? Why did not one single entry remember Happy Days, or the time stone?
Because they hadn't happened yet. Because this was just one more of a series of endless worlds he'd already broken, and somehow forgotten.
"You should be cautious about reading books you find here, Miles Prower." A cold voice came from the doorway. "Some books contain things you don't want to let in."
Miles twisted on the chair, dashing his glove rapidly across his eyes to see Cosmo, her expression hidden in shadow where she stood at the edge of the candlelight, arms folded.
"Ah, sorry, I, uh, guess I was being nosey." Miles rubbed the back of his helmet, putting on a sheepish grin. "I don't actually know what it says, but I shouldn't have. I'm sorry."
"I have read enough of your life," Cosmo shrugged, her voice still cool. "I care little if you read mine. I see you have returned intact and yourself? I suppose I should not be surprised that you of all people might be your world's chosen. Perhaps you might find some redemption after all?"
"... How?" Miles all but whispered.
"Soon the walls will tear beneath the weight of Iog-Sotôt's dark influence and the cycle will begin again on your world, whether a victor has been found or not." Cosmo stepped into the light. Streaks of purple visible among her leafy hair, dark rings banded her eyes. "But with you here, with your guide, you might prevent-" She jerked to a halt, lips curling as she looked him up and down where he sat. "Wait, what how can this be?"
She crossed the distance in a moment, hands clacking against the shoulders of his armour as she glared down at him.
"I… uh, is this about your sister? She-"
"My sister has been dead for five hundred years, Miles Prower. What did you do?" Ignoring his stammering protests she leaned down until her fair, if strained, features were bare inches from his own, lips almost touching his nose as she muttered to herself, scent of her perfume invading his senses.
Finally, Cosmo straightened, shaking her head at him in disbelief.
"You have slain the caretaker. But you have no patron? How are you whole, Miles Prower? How are you alive?"
Miles let out a sigh, both hands held up in front of him to ward off another surprise attack.
"Cosmo, I want to help, I really do, but can someone on this entire planet stop being spooky for ten minutes to explain what the heck is going on?"
The dryad stared down at him, her expression conflicted until she turned her back to him, fists clenched as she stiffly walked away, pausing at the doorway.
"I... cannot help you, Miles Prower. I cannot show you the way." She paused at the doorway, shrouded in shadow once more. "But perhaps, if it is you..."
She turned back, lips pressed tight, eyes glittering in the candlelight. "Come with me outside, Miles Prower. I will tell you as much as I can."
