Phenomenon Profile
At first glance, Galaxyroot resembles a large, blackened tuber buried deep beneath the earth. Its surface is matte and rough, like cooled volcanic stone. But when split open, the flesh reveals a swirling inner cosmos—living color that shifts like gas clouds in a distant nebula. Hues ripple between violet, blue, and gold, with points of starlight that move only when not watched directly. Some report mild nausea or lost time after prolonged observation.
When exposed to lunar eclipse light, the root emits a low harmonic vibration, like the resonance of a massive bell rung in another world.
Origin and Emergence
Galaxyroot is not cultivated. It does not sprout from seed or propagate through nodules. Instead, it emerges fully formed, often deep beneath unnaturally symmetrical stone formations, crater-like depressions, or meteor-scarred ridgelines.
Debate persists as to whether these landscape features attract the root—or are caused by it. Elven records suggest the latter: the plant's arrival may warp physical terrain, subtly arranging nearby stone and soil into forms that echo celestial order.
No known pattern predicts where it will next appear. It cannot be transplanted. It either manifests—or it does not.
Interaction and Risk
Galaxyroot is inert and unresponsive outside of specific celestial conditions. It may only be safely harvested during a lunar eclipse, when the sky is veiled and the Devouring Mist coils around the edges of the world. Even then, harvesters report:
- A sense of disembodiment.
- Flashes of memory from lives not their own.
- Difficulty recalling why they came to retrieve it.
Exposure to sunlight or prolonged air contact causes the inner cosmos to fade, leaving behind lifeless, ashen pulp. Improper storage leads to phasing, where the root simply disappears from sealed containers—leaving dust, or nothing at all.
Usage and Preparation
Galaxyroot is not cooked, distilled, or ground. Instead, its inner flesh is exposed during a Celestial Steeping—a ritual performed in absolute silence, using mirrored basins, silver ash, and constellation-marked stones.
The vapors released during steeping are inhaled, not consumed. The result is not a high or a vision, but a temporary overlay of alien awareness. Users report:
- Understanding languages they never learned.
- Recalling extinct constellations.
- Hearing their own thoughts spoken back to them in unfamiliar voices.
Each use permanently damages the soul-thread—shortening lifespan, inducing long-term disassociation, or creating fragmented memory artifacts that linger long after the experience ends.
Records and Rumors
Elven scholars, who required no alchemical catalysts for their magic, studied Galaxyroot as a phenomenon of planar resonance rather than a resource. Their surviving glyph records detail harmonic fluctuations, soil displacement patterns, and skywatch intervals tied to its emergence. One field annotation reads:
“It resonates with what lies beyond. Not dead, not alive—just waiting.”
They catalogued it, but they did not interfere.
Druids, on the other hand, hold Galaxyroot in deep reverence, seeing it as one of the few remaining conduits to the greater cycles of reality. They do not harvest it lightly—ritual steepings are rare, always intentional, and never performed without preparation. Each use is both a sacrifice and a communion.
“It never lies. But it never tells your story.”— Druid proverb
A sealed Guardian log recovered from the Watchers' Perch includes a final remark:
“Leave it in the dark.”
Comments