Chapter 7 – The Waking Grove
The light did not fade all at once.
It thinned, slowly, like mist retreating from the ground at dawn. Sensation returned in fragments—the press of damp earth beneath my boots, the cool breath of air against my skin, the faint hum of something vast and alive beneath the silence.
When my vision cleared, I realized we were underground.
Not in a cave, nor a tunnel carved by stone, but within the earth itself. Massive roots arched above us, thicker than towers, woven together to form a vaulted passage that stretched into the distance. Veins of amber light pulsed through them, slow and rhythmic, like a living heartbeat.
I staggered slightly. The glow brightened in response.
Kael noticed immediately. "You feel that too," he said, not quite a question.
"Yes," I whispered. "It's… watching."
The path beneath our feet sloped downward, winding deeper into the rootway. With every step, the hum grew louder—not sound exactly, but pressure, as though the air itself carried memory. The scent of rain and green life hung heavy, layered with something older. Grief, maybe. Or patience stretched too thin.
Kael moved ahead of me, sword drawn, his posture alert. "If this is the Heart's idea of a welcome," he muttered, "it has a strange sense of hospitality."
Despite everything, a small, nervous breath escaped me. Then the mark on my chest flared—hot, insistent—and the roots above us shifted.
I froze.
The massive arches twisted, sliding against one another with a deep, resonant groan. For a heartbeat, I thought we were about to be crushed. Kael spun, blade flashing up defensively, but the roots did not strike.
They opened.
Light spilled through the widening gap ahead, softer than the glow around us, tinged with green and gold. The hum deepened, settling into something almost like a voice clearing its throat.
We stepped forward.
The Waking Grove unfolded before us.
It was enormous—far larger than anything the surface world should have been able to hide. At its center stood a colossal tree, its trunk split vertically as if cracked by lightning, revealing a core of warm, living light. The glow pulsed steadily, illuminating the cavern in waves. Water flowed through its roots, gathering in shallow pools etched with runes that shimmered faintly as the light passed over them.
The air felt different here—charged, expectant.
Kael lowered his sword without realizing it. "By the old oaths…"
I couldn't answer. My chest burned, the mark responding violently now, as if something inside me had finally found its echo. Each step toward the tree made my pulse race faster, until it felt like my heart was no longer entirely my own.
Images flooded my mind without warning.
A crown of woven branches, passed from trembling hands.
A child kneeling before the glowing tree, tears streaking down her face.
A promise spoken aloud, then broken in silence.
My knees buckled.
Strong hands caught me before I hit the ground. Kael steadied me, one arm braced around my shoulders. For a moment, neither of us moved. His grip was firm, grounding, and I became acutely aware of how close he was—of the heat beneath his armor, the controlled tension in his breath.
"You don't have to push through this," he said quietly. "Not alone."
I looked up at him. His eyes were searching my face, not as a warrior guarding an asset, but as someone afraid of losing something he hadn't named.
"I think," I said slowly, "it won't let me turn back."
As if answering me, the tree's light flared.
The pools at its roots rippled, runes igniting one by one. The hum resolved into words—deep, layered, resonating through the Grove and inside my bones.
Heir of Lysara.
You stand where memory wakes.
Why have you come?
Kael stiffened beside me, hand tightening reflexively on his sword hilt. "That doesn't sound ceremonial," he murmured.
I swallowed hard. "I didn't come to rule," I said, my voice echoing unnaturally in the vast space. "I came to understand."
The light dimmed slightly.
Understanding bears a cost.
The ground trembled. Roots shifted beneath us, tightening like coiled muscles.
Before I could respond, a sharp sound cut through the Grove—metal scraping against stone.
Kael's head snapped up. His posture changed instantly, every line of him going taut. "We're not alone."
From the shadows beyond the tree's reach, figures emerged—silent, armored, familiar in the worst way. Nightfangs.
They moved with purpose, spreading out to encircle the Grove's edge, blades catching the tree's glow. And then the air itself seemed to recoil as a final figure stepped forward.
A woman.
She wore a crown of blackened roots, dead leaves bound together by veins of dim blue fire. Her presence pressed against the Grove like a wound that refused to heal.
Her gaze locked onto mine.
A smile curved her lips—slow, knowing.
"Welcome," she said smoothly, her voice carrying through the cavern with unsettling ease.
"Welcome to the truth beneath the crown."
The Waking Grove pulsed once, violently.
And somewhere deep within the roots of the world, something ancient stirred—awake at last.