Chapter Twelve: The Sister Root

Thalindra couldn't breathe.

The figure in the cloak—wrapped in bone-twined bark and shadowed green—lowered her hood slowly. Beneath it was a face both familiar and foreign.

High cheekbones, sharp nose, almond-shaped eyes glowing faintly with golden-green. Her dark hair was woven with dried moss and twisted leaves.

She hadn't aged a day since the sealing.

Elaen.

Her blood-sister.

Her Circle-bonded.

The only one Thalindra had trusted more than herself.

"You're alive," Thalindra whispered.

Elaen's smile was small. Not cruel. Not warm. "Alive? I'm not sure that's the right word."

Rowan stepped forward, spears raised. "She's not right. Her energy's—wrong."

Kaelen circled slowly, eyes narrowed. "She doesn't smell like life. Not anymore."

Elaen ignored them both.

"You left me," she said, voice calm but cold. "When the gate closed. When Merran fell. When the forest screamed, you chose silence."

"I sealed the Verdant Gate to protect us all!" Thalindra snapped, pain flaring through her chest. "You know I didn't want to—"

"But you did." Elaen's gaze sharpened. "You sealed it and buried me with it."

A wind twisted through the Hollow Root Grove.

The inverted tree above them groaned, its skyward roots pulsing faintly.

Elaen placed a hand against its base.

"She called to me," she said. "The Deepwild. The song beneath the song. The part of the forest you're still afraid to become."

Thalindra took a step forward. "You're trying to grow another Mirror."

"I'm not trying," Elaen said softly. "I already have."

The air trembled.

And from the base of the inverted tree, a shimmer spread across the ground—greenlight laced with shadow—spiraling outward like an open eye.

The Grove responded.

Roots twisted from the earth.

From them emerged figures—not Wildlings this time.

But druids.

Half-formed, echo-born, pulled from memory and bark. They moved like men, but their skin pulsed like leaves in a storm. In their eyes: recognition.

Kaelen drew steel. "Well that's new."

Rowan stepped beside her. "Reflections?"

Thalindra's voice dropped. "She's trying to rebuild the Circle."

Elaen nodded. "You sealed a wound. I'm offering regrowth."

"But without balance," Thalindra said, stepping into the circle. "Without life. Without choice."

Elaen's face tightened. "Choice is what killed the forest. I'm giving it form again."

The druids moved.

Slow at first—then fast.

Rowan and Kaelen charged to intercept, steel and spear flashing in tandem.

Thalindra stepped into the heart of the Grove.

Magic pulsed around her.

The Verdant Soul tree's seed inside her burned.

And from the grove's edge… another voice rose.

"Let the Leafweaver decide."

The Grove froze.

Even Elaen flinched.

A glowing figure stepped forward from the inverted tree.

Not bark.

Not blood.

Memory given shape.

Merran.

Not twisted.

Not enraged.

At peace.

He looked between the two women.

Then spoke, voice steady.

"One of you sealed the wound."

"One of you reopened it."

"But neither has yet healed it."

Thalindra clenched her fists.

Looked to her sister.

Looked to the circle of reborn echoes around them.

And said one word:

"Enough."

The ground pulsed.

Roots rose.

And the Grove answered her.