chapter 8 :She Walks with Roots

The forest was unusually still.

No birdsong. No rustle of breeze through leaves. Just a hushed quiet that pressed in like velvet.

Kael hadn't meant to wander this far. What started as a short detour from his weekend band gig—just a few minutes to clear his head—had turned into something else entirely. Something deeper. The trees grew older here, taller, thicker. They bent slightly inward, as if guarding some ancient secret between their trunks.

He passed the old orchard, where the trees no longer bore fruit but stood like ghosts of seasons long gone. Moss carpeted the ground in thick, untouched swaths. A fallen statue half-swallowed by vines loomed near a crooked oak—its face weathered, hands in prayer. The air felt different here. Charged. Watching.

And then, in the center of a sun-dappled clearing, she stood.

Barefoot. Still as stone. Her clothes were plain—linen trousers, a faded tunic that looked handmade—but the way she wore them made her seem part of the forest. Her skin shimmered with what Kael first thought were scratches, but upon closer look, they resembled hairline fractures—like veins of bark etched into flesh. Each scar pulsed faintly with green.

She knelt, fingers brushing the moss with almost sacred reverence. Where her touch lingered, new shoots sprouted—tiny green curls unfurling from the earth. Her fingers glowed, a faint, living light that wasn't fully of this world.

Kael froze mid-step. "Are you… okay?"

She turned, her movements slow, deliberate. Her eyes met his—deep, earthy brown with flecks of gold that shimmered like sap catching the sun. Her gaze held no fear. Only knowing.

"I'm where I'm meant to be," she said, her voice soft and steady, like the first rain on parched land. "The earth called. I answered."

Kael opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Cool. Yeah. Totally normal response."

She tilted her head, studying him like he was a curious seedling she couldn't yet name.

"You carry fire," she murmured. "I felt it before you stepped near."

That made him pause. "How do you—?"

But she was already walking, feet barely brushing the moss as she moved past him toward the narrow path that led back to town. She walked like someone who remembered a place from dreams, not directions.

She stopped once more, glancing over her shoulder.

"My name is Nia."

Kael stared at her retreating form before his legs moved, curiosity overriding caution. He caught up, falling into step beside her. "Kael. So… you're not from around here, are you?"

"No." She smiled faintly. "But I think… I'm supposed to be."

They emerged from the woods near the edge of campus just as the sun dipped lower, setting the sky ablaze with orange and violet streaks. Nia didn't hesitate. She walked with a calm, quiet confidence, as though every root beneath the concrete recognized her.

A vine from the fence twitched subtly as she passed. A clump of dandelions turned toward her, even without sunlight.

From a second-story dorm window, Rhea leaned on her elbows, watching them. Her brows furrowed. Something stirred in her chest—not jealousy. Not fear. Just… a shift. An unease, like recognizing a tune before remembering where you'd heard it.

Across campus, Rael stood beneath the glow of a lamppost, staring at his phone. The pulse had come again—gentle but insistent. His palm burned beneath his sleeve. He didn't need to look.

The sword tattoo shimmered faintly, as though acknowledging another thread now woven into the pattern.

They were all falling into place.

One by one.

And the earth had awakened one more.

Rhea found him alone, slouched against the staircase wall behind the college auditorium. Kael—usually the spark that lit up every room he entered, the boy who danced through life with fire at his heels—looked dim. As if the blaze inside him was flickering low, struggling against an invisible wind.

She moved beside him without a word, letting the silence settle before bumping her shoulder lightly against his. "You okay, Firecracker?"

His lips twitched into a half-smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck—a nervous habit. "Didn't sleep. Weird dreams. Also, maybe I met a forest goddess and brought her back to college with me. You know. Tuesday things."

Rhea let out a soft laugh, but her gaze didn't leave his face. There was warmth in her eyes, concern wrapped in amusement. "Kael… you've been off lately. Not your usual chaos. It's like you're… quiet."

He exhaled slowly, the sound more sigh than laugh. "Ever feel like you're meant to be more than the comic relief? Like… something's building, something big, and everyone else got the memo but you?"

Rhea didn't reply immediately. She thought of the dreams that left her breathless. The ancient sword pulsing with unfamiliar energy. The glowing mark that had appeared on her skin, strange and warm. Rael's haunted glances. Zayn's strange stillness. Nia—who shouldn't have been there—suddenly appearing as if summoned.

They were all feeling it. Something ancient. Something inevitable.

"You're not the last," she said softly. "Trust me."

Kael turned to look at her, surprised by her tone. But when he saw the seriousness in her eyes, he nodded—grateful. Not for answers, but for not being alone in the not-knowing.

Far from campus, in a place untouched by light or time, three figures gathered in a chamber cloaked in shadow.

At the center of the stone floor, a glowing star-map shimmered, etched deep into the rock—a celestial puzzle forever in motion.

A man in a grey cloak crouched over it, tracing patterns between constellations with gloved fingers. Mirek. The strategist. The voice of logic and war. His eyes glinted with calculation as they followed the shifting stars.

To his right stood a woman in layered silks so dark they drank the light. Her jeweled mask glimmered faintly, and violet fire smoldered in her eyes. Selene. Enchantress of illusions and blood-bound magic. Her presence was a storm veiled in velvet.

And in the corner, half-concealed by shadows, sat the third. Draped in golden chains and black robes, silent and unmoving. Thorne. The executioner. He didn't need words—his silence was a blade sharper than steel.

"The stars align," Mirek murmured, his finger coming to rest on a symbol that pulsed like a heartbeat. "When they converge, the Princess will no longer need to be found. Fate will draw her to the center."

"And the others will follow," Selene added, her lips curving into a slow, hungry smile. "The Vein awakens. The tattooed ones gather. The Sword… stirs from slumber."

Without a word, Thorne reached into his cloak and laid a torn piece of parchment on the table. A crude drawing sketched in haste—a blade intersecting a crystal. Primitive, but unmistakable.

Selene's smile widened. "Then it's time. Find them. All of them. Before fate does what it always does—binds them together."