Chapter Ten: The Man in the Shadows
Hours after the battle, the tunnels under New York were silent except for the echo of dripping water and the faint hum of ancient life still pulsing in the roots.
Billy followed Helena through the twisting passages, every footstep heavy with exhaustion. The faint green glow of his veins flickered like dying embers beneath his skin.
Helena's flashlight cut across the stone, glinting off strange markings etched into the walls—old sigils, spirals, and symbols that seemed to shift when Billy looked too long.
He finally broke the silence. "Who was that man really—Maskborn? You called him Draven."
Helena didn't look back. "Draven Vale. He was a scientist... but not just any scientist. He used to work with a division that experimented with synthetic bio-fusion. He thought he could merge living energy with technology."
Billy frowned. "You mean—make the earth mechanical?"
"Not the earth," she said darkly. "People."
They turned a corner. The air grew colder, thicker. Helena's voice dropped to a whisper.
"He wanted to make evolution... controllable. No more weakness. No disease. No death. But something went wrong. The energy he used—wasn't human."
Billy swallowed hard. "The same kind of energy that gave me my powers?"
She nodded. "Exactly the same. Only his was corrupted."
They reached a huge iron door, half-covered in vines and roots that twitched faintly as Helena approached. She placed her hand on the center, murmuring something in a language Billy didn't recognize. The roots uncoiled and the door creaked open with a low groan.
Behind it lay a cavern lit by faint, flickering monitors.
And in the middle of that cavern sat an old man.
He looked like a ghost from another era—gray beard, thin frame, and eyes that burned brighter than the screens around him. He was surrounded by machines that seemed half-grown, half-built—metal entwined with roots, pulsing faintly like living veins.
"Doctor Rowan," Helena said softly. "It's me."
The old man looked up, his voice dry but sharp. "I told you never to come back here."
Helena stepped aside, revealing Billy. "You need to see this first."
Rowan's eyes fixed on the boy. For a long, tense moment, neither spoke.
Then the old man exhaled sharply. "So it's true. The Green chose again."
Billy blinked. "The Green?"
Rowan stood, his movements slow but deliberate. "The living force beneath all creation—the network that connects every root, every cell, every breath. Most call it nature. Some call it the earth. But it is alive. And sometimes…" He studied Billy's faintly glowing hands. "It calls out to one of us."
Billy frowned. "Why me?"
Rowan smiled sadly. "Because you were broken. And broken things are where the light gets in."
Helena crossed her arms. "He's losing control. The Sanctum nearly collapsed when he unleashed his power."
Rowan moved closer to Billy, his eyes narrowing. "Of course it did. The Green is ancient, but it's dying. The boy is feeding from what remains. That's why the tree spoke to him—it was choosing a vessel before it withered."
Billy took a shaky step back. "You mean… it passed itself into me?"
Rowan nodded. "Yes. The last fragment of what this world once was. And it's killing you slowly."
The words hit Billy like a physical blow.
He staggered. "Killing me?"
Rowan motioned to a machine on his table—a scanner fused with roots that pulsed faintly in sync with Billy's heartbeat. "Come. Sit."
Helena hesitated, but Billy obeyed.
Rowan placed a root-like wire against his wrist. The machine hummed, its screen flickering with green and red pulses.
"What is that?" Billy asked.
"Your connection," Rowan murmured. "Your pulse runs on more than blood now. You are tethered to the planet's life force. Every time it weakens, you do too."
The machine beeped sharply, flashing symbols. Rowan frowned. "Just as I thought. Your link is unstable. That's why your power surges out of control. You're not channeling it… you're fighting it."
Billy's voice was hoarse. "How do I fix it?"
Rowan didn't answer immediately. He turned away, his hands trembling as he adjusted a panel of moss-covered keys. "There was once a way," he said finally. "A ritual that could balance the bond between the vessel and the root. But the knowledge was buried—lost when the first Sanctum fell."
Helena frowned. "You told me the Sanctum was destroyed centuries ago."
"It was," Rowan said. "But something survived. An archive. A fragment of the Green's memory."
Billy's pulse quickened. "Where?"
Rowan hesitated. "Far below Manhattan. The place the Green itself sealed away. You'll know it by its name."
He turned slowly, his voice heavy.
"The Hollow Garden."
The air grew colder. Even Helena seemed uneasy.
"The Hollow Garden?" she whispered. "That place isn't real. It's a myth."
Rowan shook his head. "It's very real. And it's where the corruption began."
Billy frowned. "Corruption?"
Rowan's voice dropped. "Before Draven became Maskborn, he found a seed—something older than human history. It was no plant of this world. He thought it was dormant. He was wrong."
Helena's eyes widened. "The Black Root."
Rowan nodded grimly. "It infects the Green. Turns it inward—against itself. And that seed, my dear, was what Draven used to power his machines. The same thing that now poisons the boy."
Billy felt the world tilt beneath him. "So I'm connected to the same power that created him?"
"Yes," Rowan said. "Two sides of the same curse. One born of nature's will. The other of its corruption."
Billy clenched his fists. "Then I'll find this Hollow Garden. I'll rip that corruption out myself."
Helena shook her head. "You don't understand. The Garden isn't a place. It's alive. A labyrinth of roots and memories. It moves."
"Then we'll move faster," Billy said. "Before Maskborn does."
Rowan sighed. "He's already searching for it. He believes if he controls the Hollow Garden, he can rewrite the planet itself. The Green would become metal. The sky—machine. And all life... programmable."
Billy's voice hardened. "Not while I'm alive."
Helena exchanged a look with Rowan. "You said there's a way to balance him—to help him control it."
"There might be," Rowan said, "but it's dangerous. To restore balance, he must let the Green see him—completely. Every thought, every fear, every darkness. If he resists, it'll destroy his mind."
Billy nodded without hesitation. "Then I'll do it."
Rowan's brow furrowed. "You don't understand what you're agreeing to. The last person who tried it didn't survive."
"Then I'll be the first who does," Billy said. "If I'm going to fight Maskborn, I can't keep losing control."
Helena smiled faintly. "He's stubborn. I like that."
Rowan muttered something that sounded halfway between admiration and despair. "Very well. But we do it tonight. The Green's cycle renews at midnight. If we miss the window, the next chance won't come for another decade."
Billy sat straighter. "What do I have to do?"
Rowan gestured toward the far side of the cavern, where a circle of ancient stones stood half-buried in the ground. "Sit within the ring. The roots will read your essence. But remember—don't fight what you see."
Billy walked toward the circle, his heart pounding. As he stepped inside, the roots around the stones began to glow, weaving patterns of light across the floor. Helena stood at the edge, ready, hand on her weapon. Rowan adjusted the controls, his fingers shaking.
Billy sat cross-legged in the center. The moment his palms touched the earth, green light surged upward, spiraling around him. His breath hitched—the voices returned, dozens of them, all whispering fragments of memories that weren't his.
He saw flashes—fields burning, oceans dying, forests cut down. The pain of the planet itself flowed through him like fire.
Then the visions shifted. He saw the tree again—the dying one from the forest. Only now, its bark was blackened. Roots writhed beneath it like serpents.
"Why did you choose me?" Billy whispered.
The tree's voice was faint.
"Because you were the first to listen. But the seed of ruin sleeps within you now. If you let fear rule, it will awaken."
Billy shook his head. "No—I'll control it. I'll—"
A scream cut through the vision.
Helena's voice.
Billy's eyes snapped open.
The cavern was no longer calm—the roots around the circle were thrashing wildly. Helena was fighting to keep them at bay while Rowan shouted over the roar of the machines.
"He's overloading! The Green's reading too deep!"
Billy clutched his head, pain tearing through him. Images flashed faster—Maskborn's face, the Sanctum collapsing, Marcus gasping for air, vines strangling steel. The voices merged into one single, unbearable roar.
"FEAR FEEDS THE ROOT!"
The circle shattered. Energy erupted in a shockwave, hurling Helena and Rowan back.
When the dust cleared, Billy was gone.
Only a blackened mark remained on the ground—roots charred to ash.
Helena struggled to her feet. "Rowan, where is he?"
The old man's face was pale. "He's gone."
"Gone where?"
Rowan looked up slowly. His voice trembled.
"The Green pulled him in."
Helena's eyes widened in horror. "You mean—"
"Yes," Rowan said quietly.
"Billy's inside the Hollow Garden."
Far away—in a place where no sun reached—Billy opened his eyes to darkness.
The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and decay. The ground pulsed beneath him like a heartbeat.
In the distance, faint green light glimmered through the fog.
He stood slowly, breathing hard, realizing the truth:
This wasn't a dream. This was the heart of the Green—the Hollow Garden itself.
And somewhere within it, he could feel a second heartbeat.
Familiar.
Cold.
Waiting.
"Welcome home, Ironroot," Maskborn's voice whispered from the shadows.
"I've been waiting for you."