IRONROOT – Chapter 21: The Heart of the Garden
Part I – Echoes in the Void
Silence filled the Benatar as it glided through the black sea of stars.
Xandar was gone — left behind as a dying ember.
Now, there was only the hum of the engines and the faint pulse Billy felt in his bones.
It wasn't sound. It wasn't sight.
It was the call.
Each beat grew stronger, leading them through uncharted systems.
Past nebulae shaped like hands, past asteroid fields that whispered when they passed — and into a stretch of space even the Nova Corps had forbidden long ago: The Hollow Belt.
Rocket leaned over the console, frowning. "We're following a signal that doesn't exist. You know that, right?"
Billy didn't respond. His eyes were half closed, faint green light pulsing behind the lids.
Gamora crossed her arms. "You're feeling it again, aren't you?"
He nodded. "It's not the Root this time. It's… something deeper. Like a heartbeat beneath everything."
Nebula's voice was calm but edged. "Or a trap."
Billy opened his eyes. "Same thing."
They fell silent again. Outside the viewport, the stars bent — distorted, as if being pulled by invisible hands.
A strange glow emerged ahead: a vast sphere of light and shadow, turning slowly in the dark.
It wasn't a star. It wasn't a planet.
It was alive.
Quill whispered, "What the hell is that?"
Billy's voice dropped to a whisper. "The Heart of the Garden."
Part II – The Living Planet
As they approached, the sphere's surface rippled — layers of roots, veins of gold light, and colossal organic structures that looked like temples carved into flesh. It pulsed gently, like a planet-sized lung.
Rocket gaped. "That's not a garden. That's a corpse with delusions of grandeur."
Gamora's eyes narrowed. "Are those… faces?"
And yes — in the grooves of the roots, there were faint outlines of faces, screaming silently, twisted into the living bark. Millions of them.
All once-living beings, absorbed by the Garden's will.
Nebula's scanners lit up. "Energy signature… off the charts. Comparable to a Celestial core."
Billy's pulse quickened. "Then this is where it began."
Quill sighed. "Of course it is. Because we're allergic to normal places."
Billy turned to him. "No one forced you to come."
"Yeah, but you make it sound like a dare."
The ship jolted violently. Lights flickered.
Something had grabbed them — not physically, but gravitationally.
The Garden was pulling them in.
Rocket yelled, "She's taking control!"
Billy stepped forward. "Let her."
Gamora turned sharply. "Are you insane?"
He looked at her — calm, but hollow-eyed. "We won't find the truth unless it wants us to."
Before anyone could argue, the ship was swallowed whole by the light.
Part III – The Rootmind's Chamber
When Billy opened his eyes, he was standing in a massive chamber of roots and crystal.
The Guardians were gone.
He was alone.
The floor pulsed faintly beneath his feet, like the skin of a great beast. The air shimmered with faint golden dust — memories made physical.
A voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"You've come home, child of the Root."
Billy spun around. "Show yourself."
The air folded. From the center of the chamber, a figure began to take shape — tall, robed in darkness, its body woven from vines and fragments of starlight. Its face was hidden behind a broken mask, half-organic, half-metal.
"You call yourself Ironroot," it said, voice deep as thunder. "A fitting name… for what I created."
Billy froze. "You created me?"
"Not you. The Root. You are merely its vessel."
The figure stepped closer. Its eyes glowed gold.
Billy could feel its energy — ancient, vast, not human, not divine.
"I am Ghorath the Weaver," it said. "Celestial of Genesis. I sought to fuse the essence of creation with the order of machine. To birth a new lifeform that could rebuild what gods destroyed."
Billy clenched his fists. "You built this horror."
Ghorath's tone darkened. "It was beauty. Until your kind corrupted it."
Billy's breath caught. "Humans?"
"Mortals. Weak minds. They took fragments of my Root, twisted them into weapons, experiments, and machines of war. The infection began with you."
He felt the weight of the words. For a moment, guilt flickered in his chest.
"And so I let the Root evolve. Consume. Adapt. If life cannot coexist, it will become one."
Billy stepped forward. "That's not life — that's domination."
"It's survival."
The chamber trembled. Around them, the walls began to shift — revealing visions formed from light.
Billy saw planets devoured by vines, civilizations turned into forests of bone and crystal, gods screaming as their thrones sank into the soil.
"Every world that resisted me became part of the Garden," Ghorath said. "Each death fed its roots."
Billy's voice rose. "You turned creation into a plague!"
Ghorath tilted his head. "You say plague. I say perfection."
Part IV – The Seed of Defiance
The Root inside Billy stirred, recognizing its origin.
He could feel it calling — wanting to merge again, to rejoin its creator.
He gritted his teeth. "You made me… but I'm not yours."
The Celestial's tone softened, almost kind. "You can't fight what you are. You are the bridge between metal and soil. Between gods and men. You could end the chaos that tore the universe apart."
Billy's breath came slow and steady. "End it… or erase it?"
"There's no difference."
Billy's energy flared, green light crackling across the roots. "There is to me."
Ghorath's mask cracked slightly, revealing a hint of something human — a mouth twisted in disappointment.
"So be it."
The entire chamber erupted with light. Roots shot toward Billy like spears, slamming into the ground around him. He leapt, vines bursting from his arms, blocking and deflecting the strikes.
Each impact echoed like thunder.
Billy countered, firing beams of raw energy from his palms. They struck Ghorath's body, shattering parts of his outer shell — but each wound healed instantly, roots regenerating like muscle.
"You can't destroy a god of creation, boy."
Billy snarled. "Then I'll break your garden!"
He slammed his hands into the ground, channeling the Root's essence deep into the floor.
The chamber cracked — fissures glowing bright green.
All around, the Garden began to react.
"What have you done?" Ghorath thundered.
Billy's voice was low, defiant. "You made the Root feel. I'm teaching it how to choose."
A deep rumble spread across the planet. The vines on the walls trembled, some pulling away from the Celestial's body.
"No," Ghorath growled, "You cannot—"
The ceiling split open, and a beam of starlight crashed down from above, piercing through Ghorath's chest. His form flickered, his mask breaking apart.
Billy staggered back, sweat and light pouring from his skin.
The voice of the Root echoed inside his mind — thousands of whispers merging into one.
Free us.
He closed his eyes. "Then wake up."
He unleashed everything.
The green and black light exploded outward, ripping through the chamber, disintegrating the roots that held the Garden together. Ghorath screamed — a cosmic cry that echoed across galaxies — and his form shattered into dust and shadow.
Part V – Rebirth
When Billy opened his eyes, he was floating in space. The Garden was collapsing around him, breaking into fragments of gold and black that drifted like ash through the void.
The Guardians' ship emerged from the chaos, its hull cracked but intact.
Rocket's voice came over the comms. "Kid, you alive?"
Billy coughed, half-laughing. "Define 'alive.'"
Quill's voice followed. "You did it, right? Big scary planet thing's gone?"
Billy looked at the remains — glowing embers fading into the black.
"Gone," he said softly. "But not dead. Seeds scatter. Always."
Gamora's voice cut through the silence. "Then we keep moving."
He nodded, though they couldn't see it. "Yeah. We keep moving."
He floated for a moment longer, watching the debris drift across the stars.
Among the fragments, a small crystal spun slowly, glowing faintly gold — the last trace of Ghorath's essence.
Billy's hand twitched toward it… but he stopped.
"No more gods," he whispered.
He turned away, letting the crystal drift into the void.
Epilogue – The Root Beneath All Things
Deep within the heart of an unknown galaxy, a single seed landed on a barren moon.
It pulsed once — faintly — then sank beneath the surface.
From the dust, a whisper rose.
"The cycle never ends. The garden always grows."