A soft knock echoed against the bark-woven door.
"Noah," came Fern's gentle voice. "It's time."
He blinked awake, the mosslight outside his window dim and blue — Rootvale's version of dawn. His head felt heavy, his eyes dry. He had barely slept two hours, but as he swung his legs off the leaf-woven bed and reached for his sword, a faint warmth spread through his hand. The Sword of Roots pulsed softly at his touch, and with it, the fog in his mind began to clear.
He washed quickly, splashing cool dewwater onto his face. It smelled faintly of mint and soil. His reflection in the small sap mirror looked older somehow — determined.
When he stepped into the hall, Fern was waiting, already dressed in bark-woven armor and a cloak clasped with a seed-shaped brooch. Her expression was calm, though the faint glow in her green eyes betrayed a sleepless night.
Fern: "Father's expecting us. Sprint's already eaten half the kitchen."Noah (yawning): "I'm not surprised. Does he ever stop moving?"
She smiled faintly. "Only when he's planning trouble."
The throne room was quieter than usual — the hum of vines softer, the air heavy with urgency. King Amaranthus stood beside a broad table carved from living wood. Across its surface glowed a delicate network of golden veins, shifting and pulsing like the lifeblood of the garden itself.
Noah stepped closer. The veins formed a map — not drawn but grown, the roots and moss creating tiny hills, rivers, and forest markings. The King's hand rested near a glowing point at the center.
Amaranthus: "This is our world as we know it. Rootvale lies here. The Hive of the Stingless Bees lies beyond the veggie garden, east of the hollow oak."
He lifted a folded leaf from the table and handed it to Noah. The texture was warm, and when Noah held it up, faint veins of light shimmered across its surface, marking paths and symbols.
Amaranthus: "The leaf will guide you. But you must move swiftly. Each sunset feeds the Blight's strength."Noah: "Forty hours… maybe less."Amaranthus (gravely): "Then every breath matters."
The sound of hurried footsteps interrupted them. Sprint bounded into the room, wearing a travel harness stuffed with scrolls, rope, and something that looked suspiciously like food bundles.
Sprint: "All packed! Extra honey cakes in case of emergency. I define 'emergency' loosely."Fern: "If you eat them before we leave the tunnel, I'll define it for you."
The King's lips twitched — almost a smile — before his expression grew solemn again. He turned to Noah.
Amaranthus: "The roots remember your grandfather. They will remember you, too. Go now, before the Blight takes another breath."
The three bowed deeply. Behind them, the soft hum of vines resonated through the hall — a farewell whispered by the living city itself.
Captain Thistle met them at the outer gate, his armor newly polished but his face still drawn from the night before.
The gate itself was a wall of interlocked roots, thick as columns, woven together so tightly they seemed impenetrable. As the captain spoke a command, the roots began to unwind, groaning and creaking like an ancient door opening after centuries.
Thistle: "Stay close, lad. The tunnels have moods. They don't take kindly to strangers."
Noah nodded, clutching the Sword of Roots close to his side.
They entered the passage. The air was cool and damp, rich with the scent of earth. The only light came from moss patches that glowed faintly green, and from Sprint's golden mushroom lantern, which he raised like a torch. Its glow filled the space with a soft honey hue.
Sprint: "Better, isn't it? I like knowing what's not about to eat me."Fern: "You say the strangest things."Noah (half-smiling): "Strange, but hard to argue with."
Their laughter echoed quietly off the tunnel walls, lightening the heavy silence of the underground.
As they walked, small glowing insects scurried along the roots, leaving trails of light. Water dripped steadily from somewhere above, each droplet shining like a falling star. The deeper they went, the more the air began to shift — less warm, more alive, as if the earth itself breathed with them.
Eventually, the tunnel began to slope upward. The moss along the walls grew sparser, and faint rays of golden light peeked through cracks in the ceiling. The earthy scent sharpened into something fresher — dew, pollen, sunlight.
Fern brushed aside a curtain of roots, and sunlight poured in.
Noah squinted against the sudden brightness. When his eyes adjusted, his breath caught.
Before him stretched a world of giants.
Blades of grass rose like green towers into the mist. Each dewdrop clinging to them shimmered like a crystal globe, large enough to cradle in both arms. Mushrooms loomed like umbrellas, their caps streaked with pink and gold. A ladybug lumbered past, its wings glittering in the light like burnished shields.
Noah stepped forward slowly, awe melting the last of his sleepiness.
This was the same garden — the same soil and plants he'd seen from his grandmother's porch. Yet from here, it felt infinite.
He reached out and brushed his hand along a moss patch. The texture was springy, almost soft as fur.
Fern (softly): "Beautiful, isn't it?"Noah: "I walked past this place yesterday and didn't even look twice."Sprint (grinning): "And now it's taller than you! Funny how the world grows when you shrink."Fern: "The world was always this big. We just forget to see it."
The three stood there a moment longer, bathed in golden light. The wind stirred, warm and scented with wild herbs. Birds called in the distance — enormous, echoing cries that rumbled through the ground.
For the first time since entering this small world, Noah felt the true scale of it — and his heart swelled with both wonder and fear.
He turned in a slow circle, frowning. "Uh, I have no idea which way is east."
Fern unfolded the leaf map. Its veins pulsed faintly, glowing brighter as they pointed toward one direction.
Fern: "There — the veggie garden. Beyond it, the hollow oak. That's where Queen Nela's hive rests."
Noah's eyes widened as he recognized the landmarks. "That's… my grandmother's garden. We're behind her house."
For a brief moment, guilt tugged at his chest. Rose would wake up soon and find his bed empty, his shoes gone. She'd probably think he ran away.
He pressed his palm to the Sword of Roots, feeling its soft warmth steady his heartbeat.
I'll come back, he thought. I'll bring the treasure. I'll fix everything.
Without warning, Sprint began scaling a tall bean stalk nearby. His feet and hands moved with the precision of a squirrel, his cloak fluttering behind him like a green banner.
Noah (calling up): "You do this a lot, don't you?"Sprint (from above): "Only when I want to impress new friends!"
He reached the top leaf and pulled out a small seed-shell telescope — a clever Gardenling contraption bound with strands of spider silk. Through it, he surveyed the horizon.
The morning sun poured through the canopy of stems and leaves, scattering droplets of light across the soil. The veggie garden spread before him like a jungle — towering stalks of lettuce, spiky tomato vines heavy with red fruit. Beyond that, a great oak rose in the distance, its hollow glinting faintly like amber.
Sprint slid back down, landing lightly beside them.
Sprint: "Veggie garden's east of here, hive's in the oak hollow beyond. Simple path — assuming nothing wants to eat us."Fern: "That's your idea of reassurance?"Sprint (grinning): "It worked, didn't it?"Noah: "Not even a little."
They shared a laugh, quiet but genuine.
The dawn light stretched long shadows across the soil. Dew shimmered on every surface, turning the world into a sea of glinting jewels.
Fern fastened her cloak, Sprint adjusted his pack, and Noah tightened the strap of his sword. The air was alive with the buzz of distant wings and the rustle of leaves above.
Fern looked toward the bright horizon.
Fern: "Every journey begins beneath the same sun."
Noah took a deep breath, feeling the steady pulse of the sword at his side.
Noah: "Then let's make this one count."
Together, they stepped beyond the tunnel's edge, leaving the safety of Rootvale behind. The gate of living roots slowly closed behind them, sealing the entrance with a soft sigh.
Ahead lay the endless green wilderness of the garden — enormous, dazzling, and full of secrets waiting to be found.
And beneath the rising light, three small figures began their great journey.