Chapter Seven: The Eyes in the Dark
The city was still asleep when Billy woke to the sound of whispering.
It wasn't coming from outside.
It came from the roots under his floorboards.
He sat up, drenched in sweat, his veins faintly glowing again. The whispers grew louder — an ancient rhythm pulsing beneath the city. It was like the earth itself was whispering through every inch of concrete.
"He watches you… he studies you…"
Billy froze. "Who's watching?"
No answer. Just the hum of life beneath his apartment. The vines that had once been dormant near his window trembled like they were afraid.
Something wasn't right.
He pulled on his hoodie, grabbed his backpack, and slipped out of the house before dawn.
The streets were empty — the kind of empty that only big cities know before sunrise. But as he walked, every shadow felt alive, like something was following him.
He passed a dark alley and caught a glimpse of movement — just a flicker of metal light. When he turned, nothing was there.
Still, he couldn't shake the feeling.
At school, everyone pretended he wasn't real.
Whispers trailed him like ghosts in the hallway:
"That's the kid from the video."
"He nearly killed Marcus."
"He's cursed."
Billy ignored them. He'd learned silence was safer than defense.
But even as he tried to focus on class, the power beneath his skin stirred restlessly, like something inside wanted out.
During science period, the teacher was writing on the board when a faint vibration shook the room. Pens rolled. Chairs rattled.
"Earthquake?" someone whispered.
Billy's hands were trembling under the desk. He clenched them, whispering to himself. "Not now… please not now…"
The window behind him cracked slightly — vines pressed against the glass from outside, though there were no trees anywhere near this floor.
Billy bit his lip, sweat beading on his forehead. "Control it… control it…"
But the harder he tried, the more the whispers returned.
"Why do you hide what you are?"
"The world is watching. Let them see."
He slammed his hands on the desk and ran out.
The class gasped. The teacher shouted, but Billy didn't hear. He sprinted down the hall, the lights flickering above him.
In the bathroom, he locked himself inside and stared at his reflection. His eyes weren't brown anymore — they were glowing green, swirling like storm clouds.
"Stop!" he shouted, slamming his fists on the sink. The porcelain cracked under his hands.
The lights blew out. For a few seconds, the only thing glowing in the darkness… was him.
Then, a voice — not the tree's, not his own.
Low. Smooth. Metallic.
"So… this is what nature's heir looks like."
Billy froze. The voice wasn't in his head this time — it came from the shadows behind him.
He turned slowly.
In the cracked mirror, something stood behind him — tall, cloaked, motionless. A faint blue light shimmered from its chest, and its face was covered by a liquid-metal mask that seemed to ripple with life.
"Who—who are you?" Billy stammered.
The voice was calm, almost kind. "A friend… once. A scientist. A man who wanted to fix the world. Until it started to rot."
Billy's pulse raced. "What do you want from me?"
"To teach you," the figure said. "Before your power eats you alive."
He stepped closer. Billy felt his breath hitch. The air around the figure warped slightly, like heat.
"You're lying," Billy said. "You were in my dream."
Maskborn tilted his head. "So it remembers me. Good."
Then the mask flared — blue lines streaking across its surface — and a blast of invisible force threw Billy back against the wall.
Tiles shattered. The sink exploded in shards. Billy hit the ground hard, gasping for air.
Maskborn approached slowly, his boots echoing on the wet floor. "You are chaos in flesh. You think you can control it, but you are merely its vessel. The power of life itself doesn't obey… it consumes."
Billy pushed himself up, blood dripping from his nose. "Then why not take it yourself?"
Maskborn paused. "Because power like yours must choose its host. It chose you. And I need to know… why."
He raised his hand. The mask pulsed again.
Billy felt something inside him snap — roots burst from the walls, lashing out like whips. The floor buckled as vines ripped through the tiles.
Maskborn raised his other hand — a wave of energy rippled through the air, severing the vines mid-strike.
The two forces collided — nature versus machine. Sparks and shards filled the air.
The mask laughed. "Impressive. You've grown."
Billy staggered to his feet, the green glow around him blazing. "Get away from me!"
He slammed his palms into the ground — vines erupted from beneath, smashing through the stalls, tearing through the floor. Maskborn leapt back, his mask glowing brighter.
"You can't run from what you are, Ironroot."
Billy froze. "What did you call me?"
Maskborn smiled beneath the rippling metal. "Ironroot. That's what they'll call you — when the world learns to fear you."
Before Billy could respond, Maskborn threw a device at the floor — a flash bomb. The world exploded in white light.
When the light faded, he was gone. Only the faint hum of the mask's echo remained.
Billy stood alone in the wrecked bathroom, breathing hard. His hands trembled.
He looked around at the destruction — the cracked tiles, the twisted vines, the shattered mirrors.
"What's happening to me?" he whispered.
And from somewhere deep within, a quiet whisper answered:
"He is what the tree warned of. The corruption of creation. The end of roots."
Later that night, the city news channels were already buzzing.
"Explosion at Midtown High. Unknown cause. Students unharmed but shaken."
"Authorities suspect mutant activity."
Billy sat in his room, the lights off, staring at his reflection in the window.
He didn't see a boy anymore. He saw something else — something wild, half-human, half-nature.
The vines on his desk had started to grow on their own. They crept along the walls, curling around the posters, reaching for the ceiling.
He whispered, "Why can't you just stop?"
The vines stilled, as if listening. Then, in a soft, almost human whisper:
"Because you woke us."
Meanwhile, in the depths of his hidden laboratory, Maskborn stood before a containment pod.
Inside, a new version of his mask floated — smoother, sleeker, alive with shifting light.
"It's ready," Draven muttered.
The mask responded, voice like silk on steel. "And so is he. You saw the way his power reacted to you. It recognizes us."
Draven's hand trembled. "It's more than recognition. It's calling to me."
"Then answer it," the mask purred. "Finish the fusion. Let me complete what nature began."
Draven hesitated, staring at his reflection in the glass. He looked tired — haunted. "If I do this, there's no going back."
The mask's surface pulsed. "You left 'back' behind a long time ago, Doctor."
Draven's jaw clenched. "So be it."
He pressed his hand against the glass. The pod hissed open. The mask lifted, floating toward him like a living thing.
When it touched his face, the world went silent.
A flash of blue and black light filled the chamber, followed by a sound like metal screaming.
When it cleared, Draven was gone.
In his place stood Maskborn reborn — his eyes burning with a cold, artificial fire.
"Now," the mask whispered from within,
"let's see how strong the boy truly is."
That same night, Billy dreamt again.
He was standing in a wasteland — no trees, no sky, just ash.
And there, at the center, was the dying tree from before… only now, half of it was burned, half still green.
"Why are you showing me this?" Billy asked.
The tree's voice was weaker now.
"Because the rot has begun."
"Maskborn," Billy whispered.
The tree's branches trembled.
"He carries what we once buried. The science that sought to enslave the earth. He will burn everything — including you."
Billy stepped closer. "Then tell me how to stop him!"
"You can't… not yet. Every power roots in balance. But your roots… are poisoned."
Billy frowned. "Poisoned by what?"
The tree's light flickered out, its final whisper echoing through the void:
"By fear… your own."
And then Billy woke, gasping, as his window shattered — vines sprouting wildly into the night.