On Matter That Remembers: The Darnuun
"The world doesn’t seem to grow these trees. These trees seem to grow the world."
You don’t stumble into Darnuun Spinewoods. You’re drawn. Drawn by a shift in the air, by a stillness that settles too deeply, too easily. Drawn to a silence that isn't empty—but watching.
The bark doesn’t creak when it moves. The ground doesn’t shudder. But one day, you find yourself leaning against what you thought was a boulder, and realize it’s breathing. Root. Bark. Bone. It’s all the same here.
That’s how the Spinewoods work. They don’t explain themselves. They just lean. And listen. And every now and then, they remember you back.
What It Is
The Darnuun Spinewood is not a tree.
It is a vertical memory.
A bone from the world’s dreaming structure.
Most of it grows down, not up.
What you see—those towering, spine-bristled trunks swaying like war horns—is just the visible filament of something deeper.
Below the surface, its roots twist and interlock, spiral and dive, crack and tunnel through the stone and story of Loria itself.
Some say the root networks bind the world’s shape—like stitching through a breathing tapestry.
Others say the roots aren’t binding it… they’re holding it together.
Quick Reference
- Type: Mythic root-tethered megaflora
- Aboveground Height: 400–500 ft
- Root Depth: Over 1,000 ft; tendrils known to reach Mycillic zones
- Typical Growth Pattern: Solitary
- Known Exception: The Deepgrove cluster
- Tone: Sacred, practical, enormous, slightly judgmental
- Common Use: Wayfinding, reverence, building foundation, grief-post, truth trigger
The Spines
Not all Spinewoods are spined—but most are.
Some carry only one jagged ridge running up a flank. Others have three, four, or wrap their entire bark in twisting vertebrae-like rows of thorns. These aren’t defensive—they’re expressive. And heavy. And old.
Spine configurations are believed to reflect age, burden, or memory-load. A few Lorian monks even claim that the trees bear their spines in response to nearby suffering or silence—as though trying to express something for the things around them that can’t.
“Some creatures bleed. Some write books. Spinewoods? They carry it all in bone.”
Orranders & Sacred Material
You don’t cut one down.
Not just because it’s functionally impossible—you’d be trying to kill a mountain—but because doing so is considered a theft of breath.
That said… sometimes a spine will shed.
The cracking sound can be heard for miles. The locals go quiet. If it lands safely, you can try to earn the right to carry it. Only a trained Orrander can shape such material without backlash—many simply let the fallen piece remain untouched, as a monument to whatever grief or revelation caused it.
Orranders are ritual artisans—part sculptor, part psalmist—devoted to the shaping of rare and sentient materials like:
- Darnuun Spinewood
- Black Pearl
- Boneglass
- Umbracite
They work with fungal emulsions, memory-binders, and humming tools. Some wear gloves that remember what they’ve touched.
To shape a thing that remembers being whole—you need more than craft.
You need permission.
Spinewood shards are used for:
- Lantern hinges that never jam
- Truth-sensing carving tools
- Architectural memory-tethers (used in Rootfold dwellings)
- Shrine pins and fungal-tuning hooks
Cultural Role
To some, they’re gods.
To others, they’re too slow to be anything at all.
But most agree: if one grows near you, you have been chosen to live differently.
Spinewoods tend to sprout alone—one per valley, one per glade, one per edge-of-the-world cliff. Entire towns have been founded in the crooks of their roots. Children tie ribbons to the bark. Lovers plant fungi at the base. The trees never react—but they do not forget.
The Deepgrove
One place in all of Loria breaks the rule: a hidden region where dozens—possibly hundreds—of Darnuun Spinewoods grow together.
Their canopies touch. Their roots fuse.
Beneath them lies a root-cut tunnel system older than most languages. There are whispers of:
- Silent railcarts powered by fungal resonance
- Bioluminescent barge-paths through underground rivers
- A direct passage to the Mycillic Underlayers, used only by pilgrims and the desperate
I have not been yet. But something tells me I won’t be allowed to enter until I’m willing to leave something behind.
Wildlife Among the Giants
The Spinewoods are home to Myrinels—tiny winged creatures that look like a cross between a bat and a breeze with opinions. They sleep beneath the bark, nip at the wind, and occasionally bond with travelers… conditionally.
They’re clever. Sweet. Curious.
But let them think they’re in charge?
They’ll rewrite your week in the shape of a moral lesson.
And far rarer are the Spirelings—smaller, sharper, wronger. If you see one smiling, you already lost the argument.
Etymology & Metaphysics
Darnuun means "earth-matter" in old rootscript.
“Uun,” I’ve been told, means “before-before.”
So Darnuun Spinewood could translate to something like:
“The matter that remembers what it used to be.”
I like that.
It makes me wonder if maybe I’m a spine.
Just a traveling thorn trying to carry my own weight through the soil.
Field Notes & Story Hooks
- A spine cracks and falls in a silent village. No one touches it. It begins glowing.
- A child claims to have been spoken to by a root. It speaks in reverse.
- A Myrinel won’t stop clinging to a traveler’s neck. It hums at night.
- A team of builders tries to use Spinewood in a bridge—and the bridge won’t stay still.
- A tree with no spines is found. Everyone near it has perfect memory. It starts to fade when they leave.
Filed live from the Rootfold.
The tree didn’t mind me sleeping there. But it did ask me to leave a page behind.
So I did. And now you’ve read it.
