POV: Maya Rodriguez / Amazon, Brazil
Word Count Target: ~2,000
The jungle was alive in a way Maya had never experienced. Not just with insects and birds, but with the hum of something deeper. The black roots beneath the soil pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat she could feel in her chest. The river that ran through the camp glowed faintly blue-green, illuminating the surrounding trees and reflecting off the wet leaves.
She clutched the vial of the glowing root fragment closer to her chest. Every step she took made the soil thrum beneath her feet, as if warning her, as if guiding her.
Maya paused at the edge of the river and crouched, eyes scanning for movement.
Shadows flickered between trees, not animal, not human. Her stomach tightened. The Project Vein operatives had to be close—they had resources, weapons, and now, apparently, knowledge of the living network she was holding.
She felt it before she saw it: a sudden ripple across the jungle, a movement unnatural, coordinated. Birds lifted en masse, forming circles overhead.
Monkeys, usually chaotic and loud, paused in eerie silence. Even the river seemed to shift, the glowing water bending toward the vial in her hands.
A whisper came through her mind—not spoken, but felt. The same voice the others had begun hearing.
"Maya. We are the conduits. We are the witnesses."
Her pulse raced. The visions struck simultaneously: Jianyu clutching the black book as the cavern collapsed around him; Lena's spirals glowing brighter than fire under the desert sun;
Akio dragged underground by the black veins; David witnessing the ice splitting apart, the roots pulsating beneath the Antarctic glaciers.
A single truth crystallized in her mind:
"We are connected… called… gathered."
Maya ran, following the thrum of the roots like a compass. The jungle's shadows twisted, forming shapes that mirrored the spirals and veins she had sketched before. They were alive, not in a plant sense, but in a consciousness sense.
The Project Vein operatives appeared from the treeline, rifles raised, scanning.
Maya darted into a dense copse. She pressed her back against a tree, gasping, while the glowing roots writhed around her feet, forming protective barriers. The operatives hesitated, clearly sensing the unnatural energy.
Her fingers brushed the vial, and it reacted. The glowing root expanded, its light reaching through her veins, searing a pattern into her skin—symbols, spirals, veins, a map of the network itself. She cried out, the energy surging, but it didn't harm her. Instead, it connected her to the pulse, to the hum, to the Earth itself.
The visions intensified. She could see every root beneath every continent simultaneously, stretching and writhing, connecting forests, deserts, glaciers, rivers. And at the center, one massive, impossible root, stretching skyward, its branches disappearing into clouds and stars alike.
The voice returned, louder, more insistent:
"Witnesses. You are chosen. You must see the whole. The network awakens. The world changes."
Maya dropped to her knees,
overwhelmed. The Project Vein agents hesitated again, sensing something beyond their comprehension. Shadows in the jungle shifted unnaturally, protecting her. And then the root in her vial moved on its own, writhing as though alive, and whispered:
"Follow the pulse. Follow it, or be lost."
Her heart pounded. She had no idea what "following the pulse" truly meant, but the roots, the visions, the voice—they were demanding action.
Maya rose, clutching the vial like a lifeline. The forest's pulse synchronized with hers. The visions slowed just enough to leave one lingering truth:
They weren't just observing the network. They were now part of it.
-
Cliffhanger of Part IV:
The jungle trembled violently, glowing roots burst from the ground, circling Maya in an electrifying web. Her vision expanded—she saw all five witnesses, their locations and dangers, converging on a single point.
"Prepare. The Convergence begins."