The tunnel opened like the mouth of a cave, and for a long moment Noah could only stare.
What lay beyond wasn't darkness, but a city of light.
The world of Rootvale stretched before him—an underground kingdom carved into the earth itself. Great roots curved upward like the ribs of a sleeping giant, and from their ceilings hung clusters of golden mushrooms, glowing softly and bathing the entire cavern in gentle warmth.
The air shimmered faintly with dust motes that glittered as they drifted. Beneath them, the ground was carpeted in moss that glowed faint green, tracing pathways that wound between homes built from bark, vines, and twisted branches.
It was alive—every inch of it.
Gardenlings filled the streets, carrying woven baskets or tending to small market stalls where flower petals, herbs, and polished seeds changed hands. A group of children chased a beetle the size of a marble, their laughter echoing up into the vaulted root canopy.
Noah's eyes darted from one wonder to the next. "This… this is incredible," he whispered.
Flint waddled proudly beside him, chest puffed out.
Flint: "Welcome to Rootvale—the heart of the Wood Gardenling Kingdom. The oldest and largest city beneath the soil."
Stone added, his tone measured and even,
Stone: "There are others. Smaller towns. Outer settlements. But all answer to Rootvale and to our King."
They continued walking, and as they did, more Gardenlings stopped what they were doing to stare. Whispers followed Noah's path. Some pointed. Some ducked away, uncertain.
He couldn't blame them. He must look strange—his clothes foreign, his eyes wide as moons.
A faint movement caught his attention. Across the street, a Gardenling woman lifted her hand and whispered something under her breath. A nearby vine trembled, then slithered up a wall and wrapped around a heavy crate. Slowly, the vine lifted it, setting it neatly on the ledge of a second-floor balcony.
Noah blinked in amazement.
Noah: "Did she just—move that with her mind?"Flint (grinning): "With her gift. We ask the plants to listen, and if we're kind to them, they obey. The roots know their friends."Stone (dryly): "Some of us just shout at them until they cooperate."
The homes here seemed to grow straight from the soil itself, their walls made of intertwined branches and hardened sap. But not all looked natural—some were patched with colored glass shards, scavenged from the human world above and embedded like jewels.
It was beautiful in a way that no city Noah had ever seen could match—alive and breathing, yet crafted with care.
Their path ended at the base of a colossal structure—a castle woven from giant roots, spiraling upward until it vanished into the cavern ceiling. The roots were thick as trees, fused together in a pattern so intricate it almost looked deliberate, like the earth had been sculpted by unseen hands.
Dozens of guards stood in front of the grand entrance, each holding a spear made from thornwood, their armor gleaming faintly with sap lacquer.
At the center of it all, pacing with the precision of someone born to command, was Captain Thistle. He was easily twice the size of any other Gardenling Noah had seen—broad-shouldered, his bark-like armor streaked with lines of green sap that pulsed faintly under the light. His voice carried across the courtyard like a rolling drum.
Thistle (barking): "Keep those spears straight! You're guarding the King's hall, not a turnip patch!"
The moment he spotted Flint and Stone, his expression hardened.
Thistle: "You two! Why aren't you at your post? And who's this straggler you've brought?"
Flint straightened his back as best as he could.
Flint: "Captain Thistle, sir! This here is… well, you might not believe us. He's not a Blight spy, not exactly a beast either."Stone: "He calls himself Noah. Claims to be from the surface."
Thistle's eyes flicked toward Noah, scanning him from head to toe. His voice dropped low.
Thistle: "From the surface?"
The guards around them muttered in disbelief.Flint nodded nervously. "Yes, sir. And… he says he's kin to Oak Little."
That got Thistle's attention. The captain's stern look softened into something resembling surprise.
Thistle (after a pause): "Oak's kin, you say…"He studied Noah for another moment, then gave a curt nod.Thistle: "The King will want to see this."
He turned sharply on his heel and motioned for them to follow.The massive root doors creaked open, releasing a cool draft of air that smelled faintly of sap and stone.
Inside, the Hall of Amaranthus spread wide and tall, a chamber of living architecture. Vines coiled around pillars like veins of emerald, glowing faintly as if life itself pulsed within them. Petals floated gently from the ceiling, carried by invisible drafts of air.
Noah's footsteps echoed softly on the moss-lined floor as they walked down a long path toward the throne.
At the far end sat King Amaranthus—an elderly Gardenling with silver-white hair and deep green eyes that shimmered with wisdom. His robe was woven from threads of goldleaf and moss, and on his brow rested a small crown of crystalized sap, glowing faintly with light from within.
To his right stood Princess Fern, tall and graceful, her hair a cascade of ivy-green, her presence serene. To his left stood Prince Sprint, lean and restless, his golden-brown eyes sharp with suspicion.
They were in the middle of a conversation when Thistle and the others entered.
Sprint: "Father, our scouts report movement near the northern roots. The Blightkin are gathering again."Fern (worried): "The corruption spreads faster each moon. If we don't act soon—"Amaranthus (quietly): "Peace, Fern. The roots have weathered storms before. They will weather this too."
Thistle cleared his throat and bowed.
Thistle: "Your Majesty, forgive the interruption. We found… something unusual near the lower gate."
All eyes turned toward Noah.
For the first time, Noah felt the weight of what he'd done—trespassing into a hidden kingdom, standing before a king of legend.
The King's gaze was calm but piercing.
Amaranthus: "Come forward, young one."
Noah stepped closer. The hall seemed to grow quieter with every step.
Amaranthus: "Tell us your name."Noah: "My name is Noah Little, Your Majesty. I… came from the world above."
Gasps rippled through the guards and attendants. Fern tilted her head, studying him. Sprint's expression darkened slightly.
Amaranthus: "And how did you find the gate of moonlight?"Noah: "My grandfather left me clues. His name was Oak Little. He… he said he hid something precious here—rubies he found long ago. I need to find them. My grandmother and I are about to lose our home if I don't."
The King's expression changed—just slightly, but enough. His eyes softened with recognition.
Amaranthus (murmuring): "Oak Little…"
Fern smiled faintly, the corners of her lips lifting.
Fern: "I remember him. He visited often when we were young. Always carried that great satchel of his, filled with maps and stories."Sprint (guarded): "And vanished without a trace. Many thought he'd gone mad chasing stars."
Noah (quietly): "He wasn't mad. He was kind. He believed in things people couldn't see."
The King regarded him for a long moment, his expression unreadable.Then he spoke.
Amaranthus: "He was a friend of this kingdom. A wanderer with a heart larger than the roots themselves. You say you are his blood… then perhaps you share his courage as well."
He rose from his throne. His movements were slow, deliberate—like the shifting of ancient wood.
Amaranthus: "But you speak of danger to both our worlds. What threat stirs above?"
Noah swallowed, his voice trembling slightly as he explained—Jimmy Reeds, the debt, the looming destruction of the garden in two days' time.
When he finished, silence filled the chamber.
Fern's eyes glistened with concern. Sprint looked to his father, uncertain.
Amaranthus: "If the land above withers, the roots below will perish with it. The two have always been bound."He turned to Fern and Sprint.Amaranthus: "What say you, my children?"
Fern stepped forward, gentle yet firm.
Fern: "Then we must help him. For Oak's sake—and for our own."
Sprint hesitated, then gave a curt nod.
Sprint: "If this human speaks truth, then his cause is ours. If not… we'll know soon enough."
The King smiled faintly.
Amaranthus: "Spoken like your grandfather's friend would have wished. Very well."
He looked to Noah, voice resonant and solemn.
Amaranthus: "You have two days, Noah Little. The roots of Rootvale shall aid you. But know this—if deceit lies in your words, the earth itself will cast you out."
Noah bowed deeply, heart pounding. "I understand."
The King nodded once.
Amaranthus: "Then let us see if Oak's legacy still blooms."
The hall fell silent once more—but this time, it was not out of fear.
It was out of hope.