Night had settled over the village like a held breath.
Chris walked the perimeter alone, his boots crunching against the enriched soil that the Critic had worked so hard to cultivate. Lyra and her party had left earlier that day, and he needed to try and plan for what was no doubt coming.
The moon drops glowed faintly along the walls, a recently grown plant that spread along the walls and faintly through the village itself under the world tree and Rootmind's guidance. It was his solution to the lighting problem, having even transplanted a few bamboo shoots for them to wrap around.
He smiled as he saw their petals catching starlight; they looked like little fairies casting their glow over his quiet little slice of home that he was busy making.
He'd been doing his evening checks for weeks now: first the walls, running his hand along their bark before inspecting the few shoots of bamboo growing on the inside, feeling their alertness, ready to act at a moment's notice.
Then inspecting all the plants within the village proper: the cacti, the trees, the various berry bushes, followed by the Rootmind, and lastly the world tree. He knew he could just use the Rootmind to do the checks, that it would be far more accurate and easier, but this felt more personal to him, more fitting.
'One more day with a new one on the horizon.' He said to himself in his mind; the words had become a mantra. But not one of desperation anymore. Just a truth that held the promise of constant improvement.
As he walked to the trees, he heard the male voice giving a quiet response, telling him how the night was calm, no beasts or strangers. The former should have bugged him, but a night of calm wasn't too strange; it just foreshadowed a larger wave the following night, something they had long since become accustomed to.
The strangle vines tracked him from the shadows. He could feel their hunger, never for him but for the beasts that might come, having developed their hunger to be more towards the beasts of the Barrens rather than people. He learned to live with the hunger he would feel from them upon acknowledging them, a side effect from his bond to the Rootmind. He learned to accept it along with the other faint echoes and quirks he would feel and have whenever focusing on any of the plants. It actually came as a comfort; it meant he was connected deeper with them, that they had become his family.
"Well, haven't you done well." The voice caused Chris to stop and frown. It was far clearer than ever before, more logical. Nothing like the desperate whisper that he had been dealing with that had fed on his fear, his guilt, his loneliness and tried to manipulate him. This was different but came from the same source; it was still the whisper even if it had an entirely new tone to it. He recognized the feeling.
"You've actually managed to build something worth protecting on the ruins of a dead city."
He slowly continued to walk, ignoring the concerned tone of the plants, steadily making his way to the Rootmind.
'What do you want?' He asked firmly, focusing the question towards it so his plants wouldn't get confused.
"To help you see clearly. The Empire will come. You know this. That Lyra woman's report will reach her father, and her father will reach the Emperor, and the Emperor will see what you've built and want it for himself. Well, if the foolish knight and the 'kind' heroes don't lead to it happening first, or that cowardly thief of a scout. He will no doubt give that bottle he stole as proof of the 'value' this place holds, adding further reason for them to try and take this all for themselves."
"You do know none of that is new information. I already expected all of that; it's why we've been preparing." He said it softly, half to the voice and half to himself as he sat and linked to the Rootmind.
"No, I suppose it isn't, but your response to it could be."
When connected to the Rootmind, the plants seemed to be able to notice the voice and hear it, either due to the way it connected him or some other reason he didn't know, but it made him feel less alone and more in control when he knew the plants were listening with him. As he entered the familiar map and vibration-like world, he expected to see the voice as a twisted reflection of himself due to its changed nature or as the dungeon's core like it had been when he discovered the plants could hear it when connected.
Instead, what greeted him was an old man dressed in a tailored suit and top hat with a long coat as if he stepped out of early London. He even had a monocle over his left eye that Chris noticed was entirely black, while his right was entirely white. His hair was grey but thick, and in his white-gloved hands was a cane.
"Well, this is a bit of a surprise. I hadn't expected to look like… No, it's not important. What I am suggesting is that you could act first. Before they gather their forces or have a chance to march across the Barrens with their siege weapons, mages and soldiers who see your home as nothing more than territory to be claimed or a new vantage point against their 'demon lord' enemy."
"How are you like that? And who are you talking about? Also, you're talking about us taking preemptive action against people who might not even be hostile just yet. They might first try sanctions or throwing their weight around." Chris said with confusion, still trying to process this change.
"Just a strategic necessity. You have the means to do it. The vines could reach their camps before they ever left the border and strangle them in their sleep to prevent any information getting back, or you could take some of the horror seeds. A few scattered around would easily distract them or even destroy them for us. Perhaps have the vines place the seeds in their packs, make them do the work for you."
"No."
The word came out instantly without even a hint of hesitation as he glared at the manifestation of the voice.
"No? And why not? Would it not solve many of your problems before they could even begin?" The voice didn't sound frustrated; rather, it sounded curious. As if it genuinely wanted to understand, which was once more something entirely new for it.
"I know it's easy to take life, that killing for my plants would be beyond easy with my ability to grow, but that would be going against what I've made here, the old man's dream and my goal of making a place of peace and acceptance here. I want to build life," Chris said quietly. The Ancient Ent's manifestation walked over behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder, while the world tree's small form hugged him from the side. "I don't build weapons, at least not intentionally, and those that come out that way are protectors and defensive. I'm a gardener, not a general, and sure as heck not someone who would go looking for trouble. I will keep doing what I'm doing. I will keep protecting what's mine. If my plants end up killing, if I end up being seen as a monster and one day end up being forced to grow plants meant for war, I will do it, but it will only be as my last resort."
"Korr was a general. You could have him guide you on what to do. You had no issues following along before."
Chris knew he had a point; he had been listening and following along with both his and Sera's orders for a while. "And Korr is here because he chose to stop being one. Because he wanted to watch something grow instead of burn. The directions and orders were more defensive than confrontational. If he wanted to continue fighting, he would have had me grow actual weapons or truly monstrous plants. I have no doubt there are quite a few, but instead he had us reorganize what we had and grow various thorny plants to aid in the defense, same as Sera with the added medical plants." Chris eventually said. "I'm not going to become the aggressor out of fear. But what even are you? I know you're not a part of me."
The voice seemed to frown at his words, gripping his cane before slowly tapping his finger against it. "I can't tell you. Not 'won't' but 'can't'. I came from… elsewhere when you came here, and your awakening from your trauma and contact with the previous dungeon's core allowed me to touch the fragment here. I did not like it, and that is all I will say currently. But tell me, if your inaction now leads to the destruction and eradication of all that you have made, if the empire really does come like I know they will, will you continue to hold onto this conviction?"
"Especially then."
The voice was quiet for a long moment. Chris could feel it considering his words.
"You are rather... interesting," it finally said. "Most would have at least considered the option or conceded to my points, not made a rational argument against it while still willing to at least accept it as a possible option should they not manage to have any other recourse."
"Most aren't me, though."
"No," the voice agreed with a subtle nod. "They really aren't."
And then it was gone. Not vanished, as Chris could still feel its presence at the edges of his consciousness, watching and waiting, having gone silent as it seemed to fade away.
The Rootmind pulsed, sending a shiver down his spine, its own manifestation appearing at his other side.
"You have done well, master." The Rootmind said. "You stood as firm and solid as the old tree but remained flexible as the hollow tubes while still accepting your own limitations."
Chris let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as the Ancient Ent now spoke reassuringly. "The parasite tests you yet seems different from what we had given our life to stop," it rumbled. "But even so, it will no doubt test you again, and its words are not to be trusted lightly."
"I know."
"Next time, it will not be so gentle, young grower."
Chris looked up at the dark brown blur, its black eyes that had seen centuries of war and peace and everything between looked at him not judgmentally but with understanding as Chris gave a firm reply. "Then I'll hold again. I will keep holding every time, and when I can't, I will try to rely on you, on all of you."
The Ancient Ent said nothing. But something in its posture shifted — something that might have been approval, or hope, or just the weary acknowledgment of one survivor recognizing another.
Chris disconnected a few moments later from the Rootmind, walking over to the base of the cloud tree and leaning back against it, his gaze wandering across his village.
He listened to the flowers sing softly once more, the moon drop daisies and blood red lilies weaving their voices together in a melody that wasn't quite a lullaby but rather what he felt was their way of giving him a message, not just from them but from all the plants, their means of telling him 'we are here, we are watching, we are growing together with you and for you.'
As the peace settled over him, Chris found his eyes slowly closing.
"One more day," he whispered as the flowers sang on.
While that happened, somewhere in the dungeon, deep beneath the cliffs with too many eyes and too much patience, it felt the echoes of Chris's rejection and smiled.
"Interesting," it rumbled in clear thought. "Very interesting indeed. A sliver of the whole being rejected and yet rejects me? But it matters not. All shall be taken by me. I will not be stopped a second time. I will claim all, and from there I shall return."
It knew it had time.
It had sat patiently up till then to recover after all; it had patiently been reabsorbing the core and consuming the dungeon over the decades and centuries. A few more years or decades would not matter to it.
It knew, though, that the small piece's next push would not be so easily dismissed, but it showed he was weak to its influence. The next time he came in contact with the interesting other worlder and its minuscule fragment, it would make them part of itself before using them to spread and better claim this world. It would corrupt that which held it at bay and away from that ruined place, using its own grower to do so when the time came. But till then, it would wait, it would grow and would continue to watch and allow itself to be entertained by their useless squabbles and fights, sending the unusable to keep them busy, to keep them believing it was still preparing.