The settlement did not wake in panic. It woke in alert.
When Lusian gathered the human leaders and the elves, there were no shouts, no denial. Only tense gazes, hands slowly tightening, breaths held in check. The calm that had followed UR'KHAAL's death was not peace.
It was waiting.
And everyone knew it.
"The leopards came to scout," Lusian said without preamble."They didn't return."
A murmur rippled through the circle.
"How many?" a human captain asked."Twenty."
The silence that followed was heavier than any outcry.
Selvryn stood at his side, motionless, eyes narrowed. She understood what it meant. Carnivorous semihumans did not send scouts out of curiosity—they did so to measure, to evaluate… or to hunt.
"You killed them," an elf said, not accusing—stating a fact.
Lusian nodded."I didn't chase them. They entered… and they didn't leave."
No one asked how.
No one needed to.
"Then they'll come," someone whispered. "Not to observe."
"To respond," Selvryn corrected, her voice low and steady.
As they spoke, something else shifted in the air.
It wasn't a sound.Not a scent.Not even a visible tremor.
It was a presence.
Deep. Ancient. Impossible to ignore.
Lusian and Selvryn lifted their heads at the same time.
"Did you feel that?" he asked, frowning.
She nodded, eyes wide."Yes…"
The Mother Tree was calling.
Not with words. Not with echo or metaphor. With intent. With memory. With urgency.
The ground trembled faintly beneath their feet. Nearby leaves stirred without wind. A low hum—like a pulse—ran through the mana-saturated air.
"That's impossible," said an elder elf. "Its consciousness should take years… decades."
Selvryn slowly shook her head.
"That was before. Before the wounded savanna. Before the purified mana. Before the blood that was spilled."
She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the Tree's pulse move through her.
"It has awakened… far earlier than expected."
A brief, incredulous smile crossed her face.
"That's good news."
"Good?" a human asked. "A Tree that thinks?"
"It doesn't just think," Selvryn replied. "It feels. And it protects."
Lusian drew a slow breath.
He felt the Tree's rhythm in his chest, intertwined with his own. There was no fear—only urgency… and something else.
Recognition.
The Tree had called to him as well.
Not as a visitor.Not as a passing guardian.
But as something bound to it.
Something written into his life… into his blood.
For a moment, the settlement faded.
Only that impossible presence remained—alive, vast, watching.
The call pulsed again.
Not a threat.
An expectation.
As if it were measuring him.
Weighing what he would become.
War was coming.
And the Mother Tree was already awake—ready to answer, ready to defend.
Lusian clenched his fists. The world seemed to contract and expand at once. His role was no longer a choice.
He could not fail.
"Prepare yourselves," he said, voice firm. "There will be no second warning."
The wind trembled through the leaves.
The earth vibrated beneath their feet.
And all of them understood.
From that moment on…
they were no longer alone.
The Mother Tree had called.
And they would have to answer.