Chapter 40: Rootbound

The witch's stare bore into Noah with unfathomable pressure. The atmosphere grew heavy, and even the floating books above paused in the air.

"If you call out to it," the witch warned, "you doom more than just yourself."

Noah swallowed and nodded. "I understand."

"Good. Then listen well. That grimoire now belongs to you. Inside are pages Cassidy wrote based on her encounters, but many are incomplete. She wasn't strong enough to finish it."

Noah turned to the chapter on shards. Each one was different — some dormant, some pulsing with power. Others... sentient.

"The mirror shard you touched — it's tied to something far older. That wasn't a coincidence."

"Why me?" he asked. "Why always me?"

The witch tilted her head. "Because your world is fragile. And the veil between it and the beyond is thinnest here in Grayeridge. You're not the first, and sadly, you won't be the last."

Noah stood, holding the grimoire. "Then teach me how to fight back."

The witch gave a cold smile. "Oh, I will. But it won't be easy. And if you fail... you'll wish you hadn't tried."

From the corridor, the pink-furred Dodo watched in silence. For a moment, its expression softened — a flicker of sympathy.

In the distance, thunder rumbled. The world was shifting.

And time was running out.

The Citadel of Root was not built—it had grown. Towering above the blackened forest canopy like a skeletal god, the bark-like walls pulsed with the sound of sap rushing through ancient veins. It groaned when the wind shifted. Moaned when it breathed. And creaked whenever it fed.

Ezra sat at the edge of a living, groaning transport branch, glancing out at the gnarled forest below. Beside her were the others—Coach Lin, Mrs. Marlowe, Mr. Harrison, and a handful of students—motionless. Eyes open. Breathing. But empty.

Their trance held them like vines in sleep. Their bodies upright, but their minds trapped somewhere far away.

Ezra clenched her fists. "What the hell is this place?"

As they descended into the heart of the Citadel, she looked up—and froze.

The plaza of the Citadel of Root stretched before them like a stage of nightmares. Around its twisted, circular floor, dozens of Kin monsters stood in formation. Each one was different: some towering like skeletal deer with bark-flesh, others hunched and covered in spines and thorns. Moss-covered witches in tree form… wooden ghosts of once-human beings.

And at the far end of the plaza, seated atop a massive throne of entwined roots and rotting wood, was a figure so alien and hideous that the word nightmare felt too kind.

An ancient, shriveled tree woman, skin made of cracked bark, vines replacing veins. Her mouth barely moved, but her eyes—a glowing green, like infected sap—seemed to pierce the soul.

This was the Root Queen.

The monster who had captured them stepped forward. The same creature who had worn Mrs. Marlowe's form like a costume. Her bark body shifted, taking on a twisted, crowned silhouette.

She bowed low before the throne.

"Oh, Lady Allithra…" she spoke reverently. Her real name echoed from her own lips: "Mongragore."

"I bring you the following offerings… for your transition."

The gathered Kin murmured, their twisted voices like creaking wood in a storm.

Ezra's stomach twisted. "Transition…?"

Mongragore stepped back, and the truth was spoken—by Allithra herself.

"We were not always trees," the Root Queen hissed. "We were witches… from the same world as her."

Whispers passed through the Kin—furious, grieving, bitter.

"She cursed us," Mongragore spat. "That pale demon. That 'White Witch' and her foul creation, the dodo. They turned us into this—souls trapped in bark."

The Kin howled. Ezra's knees weakened.

"She sealed the forest with forgetting, so that no one would return to expose her sins. So that we, her sisters, would rot in isolation while she played protector."

Ezra's mind reeled. It wasn't just a monster forest—it was a prison… and now it had decided to escape.

"Our only path to freedom," Mongragore continued, "is through vessels. Flesh we can wear. Children we can shape."

The Kin turned toward the students.

Ezra's blood ran cold.

—Elsewhere—

"What?" Noah asked in horror. "You cursed them?"

"No," Mrs. White replied calmly, seated beneath the fractured glass dome above her infinite library. "They cursed themselves. I merely refused to let them consume this world like they did the last."

"But you sealed the forest—so people would forget?"

"To protect the children. And the world outside. That spell keeps people from leaving with their memories. It keeps the forest from spilling outward."

Noah slammed the journal shut. "Then I have to help Ezra—now."

"You can't," Mrs. White said, her voice grave. "Their castle is shielded by a transition spell. It keeps all my sisters and I from interfering… unless the spell is broken from within."

Noah's fists clenched. "Then tell me how to break it."

She nodded.

Back at the plaza, Ezra's blood froze as the Queen lifted her dry, splintering hand.

"Bring me the chosen one," she commanded.

Mongragore obeyed. Her vine-like limbs shot forward with supernatural speed. Ezra tried to dodge, but the tendrils gripped her tightly, lifting her from the stone ground and dragging her before the throne.

The Queen's eyes narrowed.

"Interesting…" she muttered, leaning down. "Your soul… it's familiar. Too familiar."

Ezra gasped as her body was suspended above the wood throne, the tentacles curling around her like a sacrificial gift.

"You resemble her…" whispered the Queen. "Could it be… her doppelganger in this world? Oh, how delicious fate can be…"

Ezra tried to scream, but her breath was locked in fear. Dozens of green, glowing branches rose, tendrils tipped with thorns glowing with dark runes.

They were going to take her.

Until a voice rang out.

"It seems you haven't changed since we last met… Mother."

The entire plaza froze.

A white silhouette appeared at the entrance to the Citadel—walking calmly into the arena of monsters. Her hat bent in the wind. Her white skin glowed under the canopy's light.

The Queen's body jerked violently.

"You…" Allithra growled. "You cursed breed."

Mrs. White stepped into view, eyes invisible, but her tone, venomous.

"I warned you never to cross the veil again."

Ezra's body dropped from the grasp of the vines, cushioned by something unseen. Her heart thundered as she rolled to the side.

The real fight was about to begin.