Cecropia isn’t simply a tree; it's a sentient echo of geological time. Found exclusively in the fractured landscapes of the Obsidian Peaks, these towering organisms pulse with a low-frequency vibration, a resonance born from the very bones of the earth. Legend holds that each Cecropia remembers a specific epoch – the molten birth of mountains, the slow crawl of glaciers, the rise and fall of forgotten seas. The wood itself isn’t wood as we understand it. It’s a solidified temporal matrix, a complex arrangement of crystallized chronitons, holding fragments of past realities within its core.
The sap, known as "Chronos," isn’t a liquid; it’s a viscous shimmer, capable of inducing vivid, personalized temporal echoes in those who consume it. These aren’t mere memories, but full-sensory reconstructions of the past, experienced through the eyes of the Cecropia itself. Prolonged exposure, however, can lead to “Chronal Drift,” a state of fractured identity, where the individual becomes increasingly unbound from the present, lost in the echoes of bygone eras.
For centuries, the nomadic Sylvani people have served as the Keepers of the Resonance, tasked with protecting the Cecropia groves and studying their secrets. They don’t harvest the trees; they listen. Using intricately crafted bone flutes, they attempt to attune themselves to the trees' vibrations, gleaning insights into the past. The Sylvani believe that the Cecropia’s existence is inextricably linked to the stability of the Obsidian Peaks. Disrupting the trees’ harmonic balance is said to trigger catastrophic geological events – landslides, volcanic eruptions, the collapse of entire mountain ranges.
Their society is structured around “Harmonic Circles,” groups of individuals who dedicate their lives to mastering the art of resonance listening. Trials are brutal, involving prolonged exposure to the trees' vibrations, often leading to madness or, in rare cases, profound enlightenment. The most respected members of the circles, known as the "Chronomasters," can reportedly manipulate the temporal echoes, briefly altering the flow of time within a localized area. However, this power comes at a terrible cost - a gradual erosion of their own personal timelines, blurring the edges of their existence.
Recent expeditions have revealed unsettling anomalies surrounding the Cecropia groves. “Temporal Bleeds” – areas where the boundaries between realities are thinning – have been observed, manifesting as shimmering distortions in the air and unsettling echoes of events that never occurred. These bleeds are believed to be caused by the Sylvani’s attempts to manipulate the temporal echoes, coupled with the increasing instability of the trees themselves. Some theorize that the Cecropia’s memories are not just echoes of the past, but glimpses of potential futures, and that the Sylvani’s actions are inadvertently creating branching timelines, threatening to unravel the fabric of existence.
The most disturbing discovery is the "Silent Seed," a single Cecropia seedling that has emerged from a Temporal Bleed. Unlike the mature trees, the Silent Seed emits no vibration, no resonance. It simply *is*, a perfect, unnervingly still representation of a moment lost in time, radiating an aura of absolute emptiness. Its existence is a chilling harbinger, suggesting that the temporal echoes are not just fading, but actively being consumed, swallowed by the void.