Chapter 20

There are two kinds of silence in Underleaf.

The first is the good kind—the kind you get after a hard day's work, when the fires are low, Bonk's finally stopped humming his "Victory Soup" song, and the only sound is the occasional fart from the fermented beet mash barrels.

The second kind?

That's the kind we had now.

Unnatural. Watching. Like the forest was holding its breath.

Ever since Riri touched the relic—because of course it was Riri—the village had gone stiff. Not panicked. Not screaming. Just… listening. Waiting. Even the birds had stopped their usual sunrise arguments.

I hadn't slept. Not really. Just dozed in twenty-minute increments while drafting emergency evacuation plans, scribbling rune diagrams I didn't understand, and drinking enough root tea to power a mule.

...

By morning, the council gathered under the tarp we still called a hall. Gresh arrived first, arms crossed, jaw tight.

"We need to bury it. Now," he said.

"Not happening," Riri snapped. She was already seated, journal in lap, eyes fierce. "That chamber is the most important historical find in goblin-kind. Possibly all kind."

"It nearly melted our brains."

"Details."

Grak grunted from his stump. "Still think it's cursed."

"It probably is," I said. "But it's our curse now."

Bonk burst in, covered in mud and something that might have been jam. "Morning! The humming rock's quiet again, so I brought it soup."

Everyone stared.

"What kind of soup?" I asked.

"Swampy beet surprise."

I sighed. "Okay, new rule—no feeding the relic."

Bonk pouted and sat beside Riri, who immediately scooted away from the jam. I turned to Elena, who'd been standing in the corner like a suspicious shadow.

"Anything new from your end?" I asked.

She nodded slowly. "Yes. Someone's talking."

Gresh tensed. "Spies?"

"Worse," she said. "Rumors. The kind that move faster than logic."

I rubbed my face. "How much do they know?"

"Not much. Just that something pulsed in the wilds. Something old."

"Which narrows it down to literally every weird tree and haunted ruin in this forest."

"They're not guessing. They're searching. Quietly. And they're sending seekers."

"Seekers?" Bonk asked. "Like treasure hunters? Or like weird monks with glowing eyes?"

"Yes," Elena said.

Riri looked up. "How long?"

"Soon," Elena said. "They don't know it's here. Yet. But the more it pulses…"

Grak nodded grimly. "The louder it calls."

...

I stood, pacing. "Alright. First priority—sealing the vault. I already started drawing up plans for a reinforced casing. Stone, clay, root insulation, hidden entrance."

"Traps?" Gresh asked.

"Subtle ones. Just enough to discourage digging."

"And if they find it anyway?" Riri asked.

I hesitated. "Then we lie. We say it was already empty. Or shattered. Or stolen."

Bonk raised a hand. "Or we say it turned into soup and vanished."

"Bonk—"

"Magic soup!"

"No."

He slumped.

Elena tilted her head. "It might not be enough. If the wrong people find it…"

"Then we make sure the right people find it first," I said.

Riri blinked. "You want to show it to someone?"

"No. I want to control the narrative. We draft an official report—coded, low-detail, heavy on the uncertainty. We leak it to someone inside the Guild. Someone who's curious, not terrified."

"Like you?" Gresh said.

She gave him a look. "I'm already involved. I'd rather not be alone in that."

We all sat in silence for a moment. Outside, the wind rattled a set of chimes someone had made from spoons. Sounded like a confused skeleton trying to play jazz.

"I'll start the vault tonight," I said. "Riri, document everything—but keep your notes coded. Gresh, double patrols. Grak, can you… keep people calm?"

Grak grunted. "I'll bake more bread."

Honestly, that might help more than anything else.

...

As the council dispersed, I caught Riri lingering behind, clutching her journal like it might run off without her.

"You okay?" I asked.

She nodded. "Just… thinking."

"About?"

She hesitated, then opened the book and flipped to the sketch she'd done of the wall carvings. Her finger tapped the central image: a great tree, aflame.

"The vision—it wasn't just memory," she said. "It felt like a warning. Like something's waking up."

I didn't argue. She wasn't wrong.

...

That afternoon, while the others worked on the vault, I climbed to the ridge overlooking the northern trails. The forest was too quiet. Even the wind felt hesitant. I spotted new tracks—light, careful, not goblin. Not beast.

Someone was watching.

We weren't alone anymore.

...

By dusk, Elena had set up a silent perimeter spell—just a shimmer of air and a faint smell like burning rosemary. She said it would "tickle" anything with hostile intent.

"Tickle how?" I asked.

"Imagine getting slapped with a cold eel."

I blinked. "You're weirdly specific."

She shrugged. "I test things."

Back in the village, Bonk was helping Guk (finally out of his sick bed) unload bricks for the vault frame.

"I told the relic it could stay if it behaves," Bonk said seriously. "But if it glows again, we put it in timeout."

Guk grunted. "Still hate that thing."

"You hate soup, too. So your judgment is questionable."

I left them to it.

...

Near the excavation site, Riri and Gresh had cleared a small work tent. Maps, charcoal rubbings, sketches, and way too many snacks were piled up.

"We found something new," Riri said without looking up. "Same symbol that was carved into the chamber—Verdain."

Elena, leaning nearby, went still. "Say that again."

"Verdain," Riri repeated.

Elena sat down slowly. "That was the name of a pre-Imperial enclave. Druidic. Vanished centuries ago."

"Like, wiped out?" I asked.

"No. They just… disappeared. Took their records, their artifacts, even their trees. It was called the Green Migration. A myth, until now."

"And now we're sitting on their basement."

She nodded. "And possibly the thing that made them leave."

I didn't like that. At all.

...

Night came fast. The stars were out, cold and sharp. I sat by the vault as the last stone was sealed in place. It looked harmless now—just another bump in the earth.

But I knew better.

We all did.

Riri joined me, plopping down with a sigh.

"We should name it," she said.

"The vault?"

"The whole site."

I thought about it. Then shrugged. "The Root."

She smiled. "The Root it is."

"Let's hope it doesn't rot."

She didn't laugh. Just leaned against me, quiet.

And for a moment, everything was still again.

The good kind of silence.