Chapter 27 – Beneath the Weeds
Kael woke before dawn.
Not from a sound.
From a pressure.
Subtle, but present.
A thread tightening in the wrong direction.
He sat up on the mat, eyes adjusting to the dim outlines of the loft.
The others slept, or pretended to.
Sariel breathed evenly.
Mero had his arms folded across his chest, head tilted back.
Vetch was missing.
Kael rose quietly, boots in hand.
He didn't put them on until he was outside.
Didn't light a lamp.
Didn't touch the pouch.
But he felt it.
The bottle was warm.
Too warm.
He followed the path by memory.
Down the slope.
Through the outer fence.
Past the well that no one drew water from.
The trees here were taller, older.
Their trunks bent backward, not toward the sky.
Like they were flinching.
Ahead, the sealed path loomed again.
The talismans were no longer still.
They fluttered.
Not in wind.
But in warning.
Kael paused.
Then stepped off the path.
Vetch's tracks were faint, but present—slight impressions where moss had pulled away, disturbed leaves angled unnaturally.
Kael moved carefully.
He didn't call out.
Didn't draw his blade.
He wasn't sure either would help.
The clearing came faster than expected.
Not a glade.
Not a garden.
Just… space.
Carved out of the woods by something that didn't belong.
A thin mist clung to the soil.
It smelled faintly of copper and lavender.
The grass had flattened into spiral patterns—impossible, precise.
At the center, Vetch knelt.
Kael approached slowly.
No sudden motion.
Vetch didn't turn.
His hands were buried in the earth.
Literally.
Fingers sunk up to the knuckles, unmoving.
Kael crouched beside him.
"Vetch."
No response.
Kael touched his shoulder—gently.
Felt muscle locked rigid beneath the cloak.
Then the earth pulsed.
It wasn't an earthquake.
The roots shifted.
Beneath the soil, something moved—not fast, but with intent.
A bulge rippled under Kael's knees.
He acted on instinct.
Grabbed Vetch's arm and pulled.
Hard.
The earth held for a second longer than it should have.
Then let go.
Vetch stumbled backward with a sharp gasp, eyes wide, mouth open—but no sound came out.
Kael pulled him further from the center before letting go.
Vetch collapsed onto one elbow, coughing dry air.
A long moment passed.
Then, finally:
"You followed me."
Kael didn't answer.
Vetch looked at him, eyes still unfocused.
"I just wanted to see it."
Kael's eyes narrowed.
"What is it?"
Vetch shook his head. "I don't know. But it wasn't trying to hurt me."
"You were stuck."
"It… wanted to know me. Or read me. Or something."
Kael didn't move.
Didn't trust.
Not fully.
He turned back to the clearing.
Something had been pulled loose when he'd yanked Vetch free.
A tangle of vine, soaked in something darker than sap, shimmered near the surface.
Kael approached.
Cut a finger-length piece with his belt knife.
Wrapped it in cloth.
Pocketed it.
Vetch didn't protest.
They walked back in silence.
Dawn hadn't broken yet.
But the mist had changed color.
Greener.
Heavier.
Like it had tasted them.
And liked it.
Back in the loft, Kael unwrapped the pouch.
The bottle pulsed once.
Then again.
Its hue—still green—now edged faintly toward gold at the core.
As if tasting something new.
Kael stared at it.
Then rewrapped it tightly.
Tied the pouch shut.
Placed it beneath his mat.
He didn't sleep.
Neither did Vetch.