The throne room had grown quiet.Only the soft hum of vines filled the silence, their glow dimmed to a low, golden pulse.
King Amaranthus sat in thought, his hands clasped before him, eyes fixed somewhere far beyond the walls of Rootvale. Noah waited, unsure whether he should speak.
Finally, the King stirred.
Amaranthus: "Oak Little…"
The name seemed to carry weight, as though it had not been spoken aloud in many seasons.
Amaranthus (quietly): "A man who saw what others could not. You remind me of him."
He rose slowly from the throne and began to walk, the hem of his robe brushing across the mossy floor.
Amaranthus: "Perhaps you deserve to know the truth about your grandfather—and about the treasure you seek."
The King's voice echoed softly in the vast hall, like wind through hollow roots.
Amaranthus: "Oak was the first human to ever find us. Even now, I do not know how he did it. He said he had seen glimpses—tiny figures darting among the stems, shadows moving at the corners of his sight."
The King smiled faintly at the memory.
Amaranthus: "He thought, at first, that he was losing his mind. He told us he blamed the coffee."
A chuckle rippled through the hall—Flint's laugh the loudest, though he quickly silenced himself.
Amaranthus: "But Oak was curious. Too curious to dismiss what he saw. He began to watch. To listen. And soon, he knew that the garden held more than met the eye."
As the King spoke, Noah could almost picture it—his grandfather, notebook in hand, crouched among flowerbeds with a magnifying glass, chasing whispers in the wind.
Amaranthus: "He studied every legend he could find—stories of the Hidden Folk, of elves and sprites. He traveled far and wide, from deserts to jungles, gathering knowledge. Eventually, he found what he called the Guardian Gnome—a statue left from a time when our worlds were closer. Alongside it, he discovered an ancient tome containing the spell of moonlight binding. It took him many failed attempts before he mastered it. But on a full moon night, he succeeded. And he appeared here—just as you did."
The King turned toward Noah, eyes glinting with warmth.
Amaranthus: "He was as startled as we were. And like you, we thought he was some strange beast at first."
The King's tone softened with nostalgia.
Amaranthus: "The Blight did not exist in those days. The world was peaceful, and the soil pure. Oak had a kind heart and a curious mind. He earned our trust with patience, and soon became one of us."
Fern's eyes shone as she spoke, voice filled with fondness.
Fern: "He used to tell us stories of the sky—the stars, the clouds, the rainbows. He even built a small telescope from glass shards so we could see the moon."
Sprint's lips curved into a reluctant smile.
Sprint: "And he taught me how to make paper boats. I sank every single one."
Thistle chuckled under his breath.
The King continued.
Amaranthus: "Oak gave us knowledge, and in return, we showed him our ways. He studied the roots, the flow of sap, the language of vines. He mapped our tunnels and found paths we never knew existed. His maps are still used by our scouts to this day."
He gestured to the far wall, where framed parchment maps glowed faintly with golden ink—each one marked with Oak's looping handwriting.
Noah felt something swell in his chest. Pride, and sorrow intertwined.
Noah (quietly): "He really was here…"
The King nodded.
Amaranthus: "Yes. And one day, he returned from a distant journey, carrying a small wooden box. Inside were twelve red stones—rubies, he called them. They glimmered like drops of frozen fire."
The hall's light reflected faintly off the polished floors as if echoing the rubies' glow.
Amaranthus: "He told us they were valuable to your kind. But he did not trust to keep them in the human world. He feared greed more than thieves. So he asked me for a favor—to guard them until he came back."
Fern (softly): "And you agreed."Amaranthus: "Of course. Oak was family to us. I entrusted the duty to my most loyal guard, Lord Malga—the man who had once saved my life on the battlefield."
The King's face darkened, the light in his eyes dimming.
Amaranthus: "But even the purest branch can rot."
The hall grew colder. Even the vines seemed to draw back as the King continued.
Amaranthus: "During one of his patrols, Malga ventured near the outer edges of the garden. There, something found him—something foul that had seeped into the soil. It touched his mind, and it changed him."
The King's hand tightened into a fist.
Amaranthus: "He returned twisted, his heart blackened by corruption. He turned on us, slaughtered his own kin, and fled with a band of followers—and the rubies your grandfather left in our care."
Noah's stomach tightened. "He… killed them?"
Amaranthus: "Many. Too many."
Fern (quietly): "We call them the Blight Kin now. Creatures who follow Malga's darkness. Wherever they walk, the roots rot, and the ground sickens."
Sprint: "He built his lair in the desolate soil beyond the creek. No light grows there. Not even mushrooms."
Amaranthus: "The corruption spreads like disease. If a creature touches it for too long, it becomes one of them. And the more it spreads, the weaker our roots become. If the surface world above burns or dies… the Blight will consume us all."
The vines on the walls dimmed to a pale green as if echoing his words.
Noah's heart pounded. "If the rubies are with Malga… then I have to go after him."
Fern turned sharply. "You can't. The Blight wastes are death."
Noah: "But I have to. My grandmother—our home—it'll all be gone in two days if I don't."
Silence. Then the King sighed, slow and deep.
Amaranthus: "You carry your grandfather's stubbornness."
He turned to Fern and Sprint.
Amaranthus: "What say you?"
Fern: "If the rubies are bound to Malga's corruption, then leaving them will only strengthen him. We must reclaim them."
Sprint: "And someone has to make sure she doesn't get herself killed. So I'll go too."
Thistle: "Your Majesty, it's too dangerous. If the royal heirs fall—"
Amaranthus: "Enough."
The King's voice carried through the hall like thunder. The vines trembled slightly, and even Thistle lowered his head.
Amaranthus: "The roots decide their path. Oak's blood brought the boy here. The same light that guided him once may now guide us again."
He reached toward the throne's armrest. Vines stirred, weaving together until they formed a living map—a glowing tangle of green threads tracing the routes beneath the garden.
The King pointed along the path, his voice steady.
Amaranthus: "To reach Malga's domain, you must pass through the living lands: first the veggie garden, then the flower field. Beyond that lies the stingless bee hive, whose resin can ward against corruption. After that, you will cross the creek and step into the Blighted Wastes."
The map flickered faintly, as though the land itself groaned under the weight of Malga's presence.
Amaranthus: "You must find the rubies and return before the second night's moon. If you fail… the garden will fall."
Noah's hands curled into fists. "Then I won't fail."
As he spoke, the floor trembled. A faint shudder ran through the roots beneath their feet. Tiny motes of dust drifted from the ceiling.
Thistle's head snapped upward. "An earthquake?"
The King's expression hardened.
Amaranthus: "No. They're moving again."
The vines dimmed, flickering like candles. Somewhere distant, a low rumble echoed—too rhythmic to be natural.
Fern (whispering): "The Blight Kin…"
Amaranthus: "Their reach grows bolder by the hour. They test our borders. Perhaps they already sense the boy's arrival."
He looked down at Noah, his eyes grave but calm.
Amaranthus: "Go at dawn. Gather what aid you can. Take what light remains. And may the moon's blessing guard your path through the dark."
Noah nodded, heart pounding. He turned toward the glowing map, the green lines winding toward the far end where the light faded into black.
The place where Lord Malga waited.The place where his grandfather's legacy—and their last hope—was buried.