Kostas journeyed for days, the salty wind growing stronger, guiding him like an invisible hand. When he finally crested the last hill, he gasped. Below him, the sheer, dramatic cliff face plunged into the endless azure of the sea. And there, clinging to the very edge, was the Emerald Tree from his vision. It was immense, ancient, and seemed to defy gravity, its roots fused into the stone. Every leaf was the exact, impossible shade of vibrant green as his own skin.
Approaching the tree, Kostas felt an overwhelming pull, a profound sense of belonging. He noticed that the waves crashing against the base of the cliff sprayed a fine, iridescent mist that coated the tree's leaves. This was the tree’s water source, constantly nourished by the sea's breath. He reached out, placing his hand on the rough, gnarled bark.
As his fingers met the wood, a surge of memories, not his own, flooded his mind. He saw images of the earth’s beginning, of life emerging from the primal ocean, and of ancient spirits—the very essence of chlorophyll and life force—choosing one single steward to walk the land. He realized he was not the descendant of the tree, but a living piece of its purpose.
The tree was a sentinel, constantly drawing the raw energy of the sea and the sun, and he was its conduit—the one meant to carry that vitality inland, reconnecting the severed parts of the earth. His green color was not a random mutation; it was the unfiltered color of life, the living banner of the elemental forces. He was the Green Boy because he was meant to heal, to bring life where it had faded, just as he had done for the well and the gray valley. Standing before the Emerald Tree, Kostas finally understood his purpose was to become a keeper of the world’s enduring green spirit.