The outskirts of Rootvale were quiet that night. Too quiet.
Feather sat lazily on a root wall, legs swinging over the edge, his lunch box open beside him. Inside, a roasted beetle leg gleamed with honey glaze. He tore off a piece, chewed loudly, and sighed.
Feather: "Another thrilling evening of guard duty."
Beside him, his companion, Shoe, leaned on his spear, eyes scanning the darkness.
Shoe: "You should be thankful for quiet. Quiet means safe."Feather: "Safe's boring. If something dangerous happened once in a while, I wouldn't fall asleep on my feet."
Shoe gave him a sidelong look. "Careful what you wish for."
Feather grinned and popped another bite into his mouth. "What's the worst that could happen? Mushrooms growing faster than we can count them?"
That was when the buzzing began.
At first, it was faint—like a hum carried on the wind. Then it grew, vibrating through the ground, rattling the roots beneath their feet.
Feather frowned, straightening. "Do you hear that?"
Shoe didn't answer. He stood rigid, eyes fixed on the tunnel mouth ahead. The light of the mushrooms flickered, shadows stretching long and thin.
Feather: "Shoe?"
Shoe turned his head slightly—then Feather saw it. A thorn spear jutted from his chest, buried deep.
Feather (whispering): "No…"
Shoe's mouth opened soundlessly. His eyes went wide—then dimmed. Black veins spread across his skin like ink on paper. He slumped forward and fell from the wall.
Feather stumbled back, the world narrowing into one frantic heartbeat. The buzzing grew deafening now—an unholy swarm pouring through the tunnel.
They came like a tide.Figures on giant mosquitoes, their wings beating in harsh rhythm. Eyes glowing red. Armor slick with oil and soot. They looked like Gardenlings, but their flesh was gray and cracked, their veins pulsing with black light.
The Blight Kin.
Feather dropped his food, grabbed his horn, and ran.
Feather (panting): "Blight! Blight Kin! They're here!"
His cry echoed through the tunnels as the alarm bell roared to life.
Inside the throne hall, the deep clang of the bell shook the vines that lined the walls.
King Amaranthus's calm expression darkened. His silver hair seemed to shimmer in the dimming light.
Amaranthus (low): "They are here."
He turned sharply toward his captain.
Amaranthus: "Thistle. Rally the guard. Every spear to the outer gates. Now."Thistle (saluting): "At once, Your Majesty!"
The huge captain turned and stormed from the hall, bark armor creaking with every stride.
Fern and Sprint exchanged a look—fear in her eyes, resolve in his.
Fern: "We fight together."Sprint: "As always."
Noah stood frozen, the alarm echoing in his chest. He could already hear it—the buzzing drawing closer, like thunder made of wings.
Noah (quietly): "What's happening?"Amaranthus: "War, child. The shadow rises again."
The first explosion shattered the eastern gate. Roots snapped, soil rained down, and a storm of black smoke rolled into the city.
Then the swarm came.
Blight Kin riders burst through the breach—mounted on grotesque mosquitoes and moths, their bodies covered in fungal growths that oozed dark sap. Their eyes blazed crimson, and their weapons dripped with poison.
They swooped low, hurling blackened spears that exploded into choking smoke.
The once-luminous moss beneath their wings withered instantly.
Fern (shouting): "Hold the gate! Don't let them reach the sap wells!"
Gardenling soldiers flooded the streets. Archers loosed thorn-tipped arrows that burst into clouds of blinding pollen. Mages knelt to the ground, chanting—vines burst from the soil, snaring attackers mid-flight.
The city's glow flickered between green and red as magic clashed with corruption.
Noah stood in the chaos, heart pounding. He had never seen anything like this—so much life and death colliding in a single heartbeat.
A deafening crack split the air. A Blight Kin on a mosquito dove toward the royal platform.Thistle met it mid-charge, his thorn-spear glowing bright green. He swung upward—crack!—the mosquito's wing shattered, sending both rider and mount crashing into the ground.
Thistle (roaring): "Push them back! Drive them into the tunnel!"
Fern stood on a root bridge, her hands raised.
Fern (chanting): "By root and bloom, by sap and seed—rise!"
The earth obeyed. Vines erupted from the soil, coiling around the legs of three Blight Kin, dragging them down. The ground swallowed them whole.
Above, Sprint leapt from a ledge, his palms glowing with pale gold.
Sprint: "Flashburn!"
A burst of light magic exploded outward, scorching the nearest riders in mid-air. They spiraled down like falling stars.
But there were too many. For every one that fell, two more swarmed in.
Noah ducked behind a fallen archway, gasping. A spear whistled past his head and clattered beside him—its shaft black with rot.He glanced around desperately. Gardenlings were everywhere—fighting, shouting, falling.
Noah (to himself): "I can't just watch…"
A flash of silver caught his eye.A sword—small by human standards but just right for his new size—lay in the dirt beside a fallen soldier.
He grabbed it. The weight felt strange but familiar, like something meant to be held.
A shadow fell over him. He turned—and saw a Blight Kin charging on foot, spear raised.
Noah barely had time to react. The spear came down—he lifted the sword instinctively.Steel met steel.
The impact rang out like a thunderclap. Sparks flew. Noah didn't fall. The other did.
The Blight Kin staggered back, eyes wide. Noah swung on instinct, connecting with the shaft of the spear—the blow sent the creature flying backward, smashing into a wall with bone-cracking force.
Silence for a heartbeat. Then—
Flint (shouting nearby): "Did anyone see that?!"
Several Gardenlings turned mid-battle, staring in disbelief.Even Thistle paused long enough to mutter, "By the roots…"
Noah stared down at his hands, stunned. His arms trembled—but not from weakness. Something inside him burned.
Noah (whispering): "I'm… stronger?"
But there was no time to think. Another rider dove from above, spear aimed straight for him. Noah spun, blocked again—the weapon splintered on contact. He kicked upward, sending the attacker sprawling.
He moved without thinking, blocking, striking, dodging. He wasn't trained, but his instincts guided him.Every time his blade met theirs, the impact was explosive.
He didn't know why—but he could feel it in his bones. He was different.
Fern's vines lashed at another wave of attackers, her face streaked with dirt and sap.Sprint shouted orders, using his light magic to blind incoming riders.Thistle's deep voice carried across the courtyard.
Thistle: "Reinforce the eastern wall! Keep the wounded clear!"
Noah fought alongside them, unthinking now, driven by sheer determination.He saw a child pinned under debris and lifted the fallen beam with one arm—something no Gardenling could have done. The look on their faces was half fear, half awe.
Still, the swarm pressed in. The air thickened with smoke and buzzing wings.
Fern (shouting): "There's too many!"Sprint: "Then we'll give them a reason to flee!"
He raised both hands, summoning a blast of radiant light that momentarily drove the swarm back.
But Noah knew it wouldn't last. They needed something more—something stronger.
The ground trembled beneath his feet.He turned and saw, through the haze of smoke, the center of Rootvale—a small plaza encircled by glowing roots.
At its heart stood a stone pedestal, and embedded within it was a silver sword.
Even from here, he could see it shining through the gloom, untouched by decay.The air around it shimmered faintly, as if time itself avoided that space.
Fern (calling out): "Noah, stay back! That blade—no one has ever moved it!"Thistle (grim): "Not even the King himself."
But something called to him. A pulse. A whisper deep inside his chest.
He stepped forward through the battlefield, one slow step at a time.The noise of war faded around him—the buzzing, the shouts, the clash of metal—all drowned out by that single hum of energy.
He reached the pedestal.
The sword gleamed brighter now, reflecting the faint blue of his eyes. His hand trembled as he reached out.
He touched the hilt.
Light exploded outward—pure, blinding silver, washing over the city.Every vine and flower bent toward it as though bowing to the moon.
Noah's eyes widened. The ground shuddered beneath him. The sword began to hum.
And then—