The scream did not echo.
It vanished.
That was what froze Kael in place—the way the sound was swallowed by the Greenwood as if the forest itself had decided it should not be remembered. No birds fled. No alarms rang. The ancient canopy above Lethrien did not tremble in panic.
For a single heartbeat, nothing reacted.
Then the forest shifted.
Not violently. Not suddenly.
It was the slow, deliberate movement of something that had been asleep for too long and was irritated at being disturbed.
The balcony beneath Kael's feet shuddered. Lanterns swayed on their vines, glowing light rippling like disturbed water. Leaves fell—not gently, but spiraling downward as if pulled by an unseen current.
Elmyra gripped the railing beside him. "That wasn't an animal," she said, her voice steady but thin.
Kael's hand slid instinctively to the relic blade at his hip. It was warm. Warmer than it had ever been.
"No," he answered. "It wasn't."
Across the platform, Elf sentinels snapped into motion, their discipline flawless even as unease crept into their movements. Noble rankers stepped forward, robes igniting with faint sigils that glowed through layers of leaf-woven fabric.
A High Bough noble raised their staff, voice carrying unnaturally far.
"All Rootbound sentinels," they commanded, "seal the lower growth. This disturbance will be contained."
Contained.
The word rang hollow.
Far below the platforms, deep beneath layers of soil and memory, the roots began to move.
Not snapping upward in panic. Not erupting in violence.
They uncoiled.
Massive tendrils—thick as fortress walls—dragged themselves free from the earth with a sound like stone grinding against bone. Ancient moss tore loose. Fragments of petrified remains fell away as if shaken from a long-forgotten grave.
Platforms creaked as living wood strained against living wood.
Elf voices rose now—sharp orders, warnings, disbelief leaking through trained calm.
Kael's gaze dropped to the forest floor far below.
And he saw it.
A hollow.
A vast cavity where roots should have been interwoven into an unbreakable seal. The space yawned open, dark and wrong, as if something immense had once rested there.
And now did not.
"It's awake," Kael whispered.
Elmyra turned to him sharply. "What is?"
Before he could answer, the forest floor exploded upward.
A Rootbound guardian emerged from the depths—but it was not the ancient protector Kael had seen carved into temple stone or whispered about in legends. This one was twisted.
Its body was bark fused with jagged stone and sinew, its form asymmetrical, unstable. Veins of amber light pulsed violently beneath its surface, not the calm green glow of true Rootbound magic.
Corrupted.
The guardian roared, and the sound tore through the Greenwood like a wound finally opened.
The illusion of peace shattered.
Elf nobles raised their hands in unison. Leaves hardened into shields midair. Vines lashed out, binding and striking with lethal precision. Light bent, air thickened, barriers formed.
The creature smashed through the first defensive line as if it were mist.
An Elf was hurled from a platform, their scream cut short as they vanished into the abyss below.
Kael's chest burned.
Not with fear.
With fury.
You are not ready, Mask's voice echoed in his memory.
Kael stepped forward anyway.
"Kael, wait—!" Elmyra shouted.
He didn't.
The relic blade slid free with a sound that was almost alive.
The hum that followed was not just metal—it was recognition.
The world slowed.
Kael felt the pull beneath his feet, the deep tension of roots straining against centuries of restraint. He didn't know the words. He didn't shape a spell.
He listened.
And the earth answered.
Kael brought the blade down.
Not as a strike—but as a command.
The ground convulsed.
Roots erupted upward in a violent spiral, impaling the corrupted guardian through its core. Amber light flared wildly, then flickered as the creature let out a final, distorted cry.
Silence crashed down like a wave.
The guardian collapsed, its body breaking apart into ash, rot, and fragments of stone that sank back into the soil as if ashamed to remain above ground.
Kael staggered.
His knees buckled, vision blurring. He barely stayed upright.
Every eye in Lethrien turned toward him.
Elmyra ran to his side, catching him before he fell completely. Her hands trembled as she held him, her breath unsteady.
"What did you do?" she asked—not accusing. Terrified.
Kael swallowed. "I don't know."
The High Bough noble approached slowly, their expression stripped of certainty.
"That was not inherited magic," they whispered. "That was not sanctioned."
"It was human," another Elf said softly.
A low horn sounded.
Deep. Ancient. Forbidden.
The noble stiffened. "That signal hasn't been used since the First Turning."
From the shadows beyond Lethrien, torches flared—human torches.
Kael's blood turned cold.
Figures emerged from the forest, armor mismatched, movements disciplined but fanatical. At their head walked a man wearing a cracked iron mask, his cloak embroidered with a symbol Kael had never seen—a broken circle divided by a jagged line.
Not Mask.
Something worse.
"The forest weakens," the man called. "The old laws rot. Our master foresaw this."
Elmyra stepped forward. "Your master?"
The masked man laughed. "You chase him already, Princess. Or did you think your kidnapping was a random cruelty?"
Kael's heart slammed painfully.
The man's gaze locked onto him.
"There you are," he said. "Awakened at last."
He snapped his fingers.
Human magic ignited—raw, unstable, violent.
The ground beneath Kael erupted, hurling him into a tree. Pain exploded through his ribs. He tasted blood.
"Elmyra—!" he gasped.
Elf magic surged in retaliation, light and wind tearing through the attackers. Several fell, bodies crumpling to the forest floor.
But the masked man only smiled.
"Tell the boy," he said calmly, "that the Kidnapper watches his awakening with great interest."
Smoke engulfed them.
When it cleared, the attackers were gone.
Fear lingered like ash.
Later, confined under watch, Kael lay awake as pain throbbed through his body.
The shadows shifted.
Mask stepped forward.
"You disobeyed me," he said.
Kael met his gaze. "Then teach me."
Mask studied him for a long moment.
"Very well," he said. "But understand this—once you walk this path, the world will never stop hunting you."
Kael didn't look away.
"Let it try."
Far away, the Kidnapper smiled.
End of Chapter 12