Chapter 7 – Ashroot's Shadow

The road beyond the Vinewall was not meant for students.

It slithered through thickets of iron-rooted trees, dipped into valleys blanketed in mist, and rose again into hills shrouded in thornberry fog. Every few steps, Yuzu could feel his sigil twitch beneath his sleeve — not in pain, but in awareness. It was tasting the world beyond the Garden Cities. Sensing something older.

He walked in silence beside Mira.

Neither of them spoke much. Her presence was like frost — quiet, sharp, and cautious. She moved as if shadows might catch her if she made a sound too loud. Her twin spirits hovered close: the cherry flickering dimly, and the other — the splice — a fractured swirl of flavor that pulsed in and out of reality like a broken melody.

They traveled for two days.

Slept in hollowed tree trunks, drank from filtered vinewater, ate what little fruit Mira deemed "safe." Most wild fruit was unbonded, but not dead. Some were dormant. Others were... watching.

On the third day, just before dusk, they arrived.

Ashroot.

The village was carved directly into the cliffside, hidden beneath a canopy of blackthorn trees. From above, it looked abandoned. But as Yuzu and Mira approached the ridge path, sigils flickered into view — dim, muted, but alive. Fruitless ones. Spliced ones. Fractured ones.

They were not alone.

A gatekeeper stepped forward — a towering woman with bark-like skin not unlike Gelmo's, but her aura was heavier, bruised with bitterness. Her Fruit Spirit hovered like a scar: a dried mango curled inwards like a fist.

Mira nodded to her. "He's with me."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "I can taste that."

She stepped aside, allowing them entry.

Inside Ashroot, silence reigned. There was no laughter. No spirit games. No fruit blooming in mid-air. Just quiet murmurs and the occasional rustle of leaves. Some villagers stared at Yuzu with guarded interest. Others looked away.

"Why does this place feel… broken?" Yuzu asked softly.

Mira glanced at him. "Because it is. This is where the Garden forgot us. And where we chose not to forget ourselves."

They crossed a bridge of woven roots, passing under a twisted arch inscribed with fruit-script older than the Council's records. Yuzu couldn't read it, but his sigil flared faintly.

It meant something.

They stopped in front of a dwelling carved into the rock. A single glowing fig hung above the door — a sign of invitation.

Mira pushed the door open.

"Welcome to the Shed," she said.

Inside, it was surprisingly warm. A low fire burned in a pit of scented woodchips. Dried fruit herbs hung from the ceiling. Shelves were packed with jars filled with... something. Pieces of spirits? Infused seeds? Yuzu wasn't sure.

An old man sat in the corner, blindfolded, weaving thread made of fruit fiber.

"New seed?" he asked without turning.

"Yes," Mira replied. "He's... complicated."

The old man chuckled. "Aren't we all."

Yuzu stepped forward. "My name's Yuzu Kaien. I—"

"I know," the old man interrupted. "I tasted you the moment you crossed the threshold. Your flavor is loud."

Yuzu tensed. "I'm hiding it."

"Not well," the man smiled. "But don't worry. Here, we don't prune branches. We let them twist."

He pointed to a small alcove. "You'll stay there. Tomorrow, we talk. Tonight, you sleep."

Yuzu wanted to argue — to ask more questions — but exhaustion crashed into him like a tidal wave.

He lay down, the scent of burnt citrus and fermented fig wrapping around him like a blanket.

And he dreamed.

Of the tree.

But it wasn't his orchard. Not exactly. The roots twisted differently. The bark bled. A figure stood beneath it — not Gelmo, not Mira — but someone taller. Robed in petals, with a crown of black seeds.

"You are early," the figure said, voice like thunder in syrup. "But not unwelcome."

"Who are you?" Yuzu asked.

"A gardener," the figure replied. "Like the one who guided you. But my garden was burned long ago."

The tree behind him groaned, shedding fruits that hit the ground and vanished.

"You carry the First Bite," the figure said. "But beware. The fruit devours the harvester, too."

Yuzu felt something drip down his arm.

He looked.

His sigil was melting.

He awoke gasping, arm slick with sweat — but the sigil was still there. Shifting. Stable... for now.

Mira was already awake, standing near the window.

"You dreamt of him, didn't you?" she asked without turning.

"Who?"

"The Burned Gardener."

Yuzu stared. "How do you know?"

"We all see him, eventually. He's what comes after the first lie. The one the Council never mentions."

Outside, the morning fog clung to the cliffs like rot.

Mira turned, her eyes hard. "If you stay here, you might learn what the Council tried to bury. But if you go back… they'll bury you, too."

Yuzu clenched his fists.

"I'm not going back."

She nodded.

"Good. Then let's show you what Ashroot remembers."