The air was thick with smoke and sorrow when Ikenna and Adaeze reached the outskirts of Riverstone Hollow.
What had once been a cradle of green was now a battlefield. Fire curled around the edges of the fields like cruel fingers, devouring the stalks that had taken months to grow. The river ran dark with ash. Above it all, the banners of the Verdant Circle swayed — green cloth embroidered with golden roots, their once-holy symbol now twisted into something sinister.
Adaeze's voice trembled. "They've already breached the valley walls."
Ikenna's jaw tightened. "They want to cleanse the land. To erase me and everything connected to the old balance."
His pulse throbbed in his temples. The Seed of Equilibrium pulsed in his hand, warm and alive, as though sensing his rage.
He knelt, pressing his palm against the earth. The soil quivered in response — trembling like it recognized its Guardian. Through the tremors, he felt the pain of his crops, the fear of his people hiding beneath burnt rooftops, and the rage of the river whose flow had been dammed with blood.
"Enough," Ikenna whispered. "No more."
They moved swiftly through the smoke, cutting through the ranks of masked enforcers who bore the Verdant Circle's sigils. Adaeze was a blur of motion — her blades flashing silver in the orange haze, slicing through corrupted vines that lashed at them like whips.
"Left flank!" she shouted.
Ikenna thrust his staff into the ground. Roots burst from the soil, coiling around enemy feet before exploding in bursts of green light. Every strike was a prayer to the land — a desperate plea for strength, forgiveness, and vengeance all at once.
"Guardian Ikenna!" a voice cried from behind the burning grain silos.
He turned to see Elder Nkiru staggering forward, her robes singed, clutching a wounded child. "They're taking the heart of the valley!" she gasped. "They've found the Mother Tree!"
Ikenna's blood ran cold. The Mother Tree — the first sprout he had cultivated with the scroll, the living symbol of rebirth — was not just wood and sap. It was the anchor for every growing thing in Riverstone Hollow. If they destroyed it, the valley would die.
"Stay with her," Ikenna told Adaeze. "I'll handle the Circle."
Adaeze grabbed his wrist. "You won't handle anything if you get yourself killed, farm boy. I'm coming with you."
He met her eyes, saw the fire burning there — fierce and unwavering — and nodded. "Then let's make them regret touching what's ours."
They reached the heart of the valley as the sun disappeared behind black clouds.
The Mother Tree towered above them, its bark glowing faintly gold, its branches trembling as if in pain. Dozens of robed Circle warriors surrounded it, chanting in unison. Their leader stood at the base — a tall figure in emerald armor, a curved blade resting across his shoulders.
His face was familiar.
Ikenna froze. "...Obinna."
The man smiled faintly, lowering his hood. His hair was streaked with silver, though his eyes still burned with the same cold precision as the day he had betrayed them.
"I warned you, Ikenna," Obinna said. "The soil doesn't need a sentimental fool. It needs control."
"You're poisoning it!" Ikenna shouted. "Look around you—these lands are screaming!"
"They're screaming for order," Obinna countered. "For centuries the land has suffered under reckless hands. We are restoring the sacred hierarchy — man above nature."
Adaeze spat. "That's not order. That's slavery."
Obinna ignored her. He raised his blade, and the chanting of his followers grew louder. The ground beneath the Mother Tree cracked, oozing black sap.
Ikenna felt the pull — the dark hum of Orodi's curse stirring within him, whispering let me help… let me end him.
He clenched his fists. "No. Not this time."
He raised the Seed of Equilibrium high. Golden light burst forth, spiraling upward before slamming into the cracked earth. The air exploded with energy — half golden, half shadow. The circle's chant faltered as vines surged from the soil, ripping through their ranks like serpents made of sunlight.
Obinna shielded himself with a snarl. "You think the seed will save you?"
"It won't," Ikenna said, stepping forward. "But it will remember me."
He thrust his palm forward. The ground split open, swallowing fire, ash, and corruption all at once. A roar echoed — not from Ikenna, but from the soil itself. The Spirit of the Land awakened, answering its Guardian's call.
"By the roots of the First Field," Ikenna chanted, "by the promise of Aruwa, I command you—restore balance!"
Light tore through the battlefield. Every seed, every dying sprout, every buried root pulsed alive, releasing waves of green radiance. The warriors screamed as their corruption burned away.
But so did Ikenna's strength. The light wasn't just purging the land — it was drawing from him, consuming his spirit as fuel.
"Ikenna!" Adaeze shouted, rushing to him. "Stop! You'll kill yourself!"
He smiled weakly. "If the land lives… it's worth it."
Obinna lunged through the chaos, blade aimed at Ikenna's chest. Adaeze blocked it, sparks flying as steel clashed. "You'll have to go through me first," she hissed.
But Obinna was fast. Too fast. His second strike slipped past her guard—
—and then stopped.
Ikenna caught the blade barehanded. Blood ran down his fingers, glowing gold. "You've forgotten, Obinna," he said softly. "The soil remembers every seed you bury. Even betrayal."
The ground erupted beneath Obinna's feet. Roots seized him, dragging him down into the earth screaming. His voice echoed until it faded beneath the soil, swallowed whole by the very thing he sought to control.
The light faded. Silence returned.
The valley was scorched but alive — the fires extinguished, the river flowing again. The Mother Tree's glow dimmed, then steadied, releasing a soft sigh of wind through its branches.
Adaeze knelt beside Ikenna, shaking him. "Hey—stay with me."
He opened his eyes weakly. The Seed of Equilibrium had dimmed to a faint ember. "It's… done," he murmured. "For now."
Adaeze brushed dirt from his face. "You saved them."
He gave a tired smile. "No. We did."
She looked at the horizon — where dawn began to break through the smoke. "Then what now?"
Ikenna gazed at the Mother Tree, its golden sap flowing anew. "Now we rebuild. But balance… it never stays still. The Circle's not gone. They'll rise again — and next time, they won't come alone."
The Seed pulsed faintly, as if warning him of a greater storm to come.