The Rootmind pulsed beneath Chris's palm, slow and steady—a heartbeat that wasn't his own but had become inseparable from him nonetheless. The bulb-like top gleamed faintly in the evening light, its deep purple-black roots spreading across the soil like veins carrying something vital.
Chris sat in his seat before it, the marks on his arms throbbing in rhythm with the network, the root that usually connected to his wrist resting beside him instead. He'd been here for hours, watching through the plants' eyes, feeling through their senses but had spent the past hours disconnected, just sitting and talking softly to the Rootmind and world tree, its little root once more wrapped around his leg.
He felt restless. The dungeon seemed far too quiet tonight. The beasts had pulled back deeper into the cliffs from what the roots had told him and the silence it created was louder than any howl. He wished he knew what was going on out there though, knew how to further prepare.
"Are you sure it's what's waiting out there and not that girl that has your thoughts so tied and bothered?" The voice sounded out. It felt different this time and had him near instantly reconnect to the Rootmind.
Not the calm, logical tone from before his measured arguments. This was softer. Almost gentle. It caused him to almost immediately link back up and look at the familiar figure of the voice.
"Lyra, I believe her name was. The way she looked at you when you showed her the grave? Quite touching that moment you had together, wasn't it?"
Chris's jaw tightened. "Leave her out of this."
"I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to help you see."
The manifestation appeared over to the side, the old man in the tailored suit, top hat and his sharp, mismatched eyes. But his posture was different now. Far less formal and almost sympathetic.
He sat on the edge of the Rootmind's realm, his cane across his knees as he seemed to look at Chris with sympathy.
"In that case is it that you still blame yourself for Theron's death?"
Chris went still but glared at him.
"Uh yes, it seems I hit the proverbial nail on the head. You still seem to believe that if you'd been faster, smarter or even stronger it would have been different. You think if you hadn't been so afraid, so useless, so weak, that he'd still be alive."
Chris practically growled at him. "That's none o—"
"You're entirely correct." It snapped at him, a rather feral smile across his face. "It's something you've known since the moment you woke up and found him gone. You've carried it every day and every night. Every time you close your eyes and see his face you remember, rightly so, that if things had been different, he would have still been here, would have still been alive."
The voice wasn't taunting. It wasn't mocking. That was what made it worse as it seemed to be talking with a mix of sympathy and as if it was just fact.
"You couldn't protect him. You couldn't save him. He died because you weren't enough. Because he had to 'protect' you."
"Stop it!"
"But I suppose you could still protect them. Sera. Korr. The village. Everyone who will no doubt come and rely on you." The old man turned to look at him, his black-and-white eyes unreadable. "But again, it would only be if you're willing to do what's necessary."
He growled softly, eyes narrowing and only held back by the world tree and Rootmind's presence grounding him. "I'm not going to grow weapons or try to crush anything in my way just because you whisper petty words at me to try and get me to do what you want."
"Petty words?" The voice almost sounded hurt. "All I am doing is telling you the truth. You failed Theron. You almost failed Sera when she arrived half-dead at your gate and you did fail with the grey patch when you created something that could have destroyed everything you love in ignorance as you once more ignored the words of those around you."
Chris flinched as if struck.
The voice noticed and seemed to smile a bit wider somehow.
"You seem to think you're growing or becoming strong by carrying all of that. Every failure. Every mistake. Every moment you weren't good enough you seem to think is what is turning you into something better." The old man stood, walking toward Chris with slow, deliberate steps. "Rather just let it go. Rather just let me help you carry it. Let me help you become strong enough that you never fail again. Let me be your guide and aid."
The Rootmind screamed angrily and Chris felt like it was ripping him to the side. It wasn't loud, rather more of a pulse of pure green energy that shot through Chris's spine and made his teeth clench and his hands curl into fists.
"Master." The Rootmind's voice was sharp and urgent, cutting through the voice's soft promises. "This thing is not offering help. It is trying to have you willingly walk into its trap."
Chris quickly realized he had walked over to the manifestation of the voice, that he had even begun to unconsciously raise his hand.
He took a step back and began to try and steady his breathing.
The voice's manifestation flickered just for a moment that had Chris see something beneath the tailored suit and the top hat. Something hungry with a scowl, a mix of angry yellow eyes and teeth upon teeth.
Glaring at it after thanking the Rootmind he looked back towards him. "I failed Theron," Chris said quietly in admittance. "I almost failed Sera even if it was beyond my control at the time. And I did create something monstrous that almost killed everyone and even made a path of pure death."
"Yes, exactly, but I can—"
"But I did learn from all of it. I have begun to accept my losses and faults. I carry the guilt but it has been growing lighter as of late. Time has begun to heal and the scars it's all left are what I keep as my reminders."
The voice went silent, seemingly annoyed and mildly frustrated at his words.
Chris narrowed his eyes at the old man, no, at this parasite, the whispering voice, the thing that wanted to use him or worse.
"I know I can't protect everyone alone, and that I've gotten lucky not to lose any of my plants beyond second gen spike bushes and vines. But that's why I have Sera now. That's why I talk with Korr. That's why I have the plants all around me even if they don't think or understand in the same way." He stepped closer. "I've come to learn that failure isn't the end, it's a harsh lesson. The grey patch taught me what I should never become. Theron's death taught me that recklessness and hesitation both carry a cost. But giving up? Surrendering to you? That would cost more than I'm willing to pay. And honestly I feel stupid for having been swept up into your words."
"You're being foolish."
"Maybe." Chris's voice was steady now and a smile steadily formed on his face. "But I'd rather be a fool who tries than a coward who takes the easy way out and gives up all control. I almost did that with letting Sera and Korr handle things and I didn't like it. So let me ask you this, if I didn't like it when I had begun letting Sera and Korr do so for me and I actually trust them why would I let you?"
The old man stared at him for a long moment. Then he smiled—thin and cold.
"You think this is over and that you've won something big just because you rejected me again?" He shook his head. "I'm not trying to break you, Chris. I'm trying to save you from…" It stopped and sighed. "One day soon when the Empire comes or even when my source in the dungeon rises back up, when everyone you love is dying around you, you will realize that I was right and you can only hope it isn't too late to take my offer, to give yourself over to me."
He soon faded into a thin grey mist.
There was no anger in his parting statement, no condescension or threats, just what it seemed to truly believe.
Slowly he disconnected from the Rootmind, staring at its twitching roots and form before standing and gently resting a hand onto its bulb, feeling it pulse ever so gently, soothing him in a way he didn't know could happen.
"You held firm," the Rootmind said quietly, a voice only he seemed to hear.
"I almost didn't."
"But you did. That's what matters." It told him flatly before going silent.
Chris closed his eyes and simply nodded.
The flowers seemed to start to sing softly in the distance. He knew it was from the world tree's urging, their tones weaving together into a melody he hadn't heard in a long time, like an opening from a show in his old world, a memory that felt distant and yet the message they seemed to try and make him see, to make him feel was clear. You are not alone.
"One more day," Chris whispered softly.
Unknown to him, somewhere deep in the dungeon, something with too many eyes, teeth and mouths growled softly, many of the eyes narrowing due to the feeling of its own fragment trying to work against it. It knew it wouldn't accept things so easily. It would also plan, press and prod till it found a crack, just as it had when it crawled into the dungeon so long ago.
It wouldn't accept another though. The infection of the core was already difficult to deal with and still being absorbed back into the whole. Regardless of what resistance it tried to put up the main had existed far longer, was far more patient and would win in the end but regardless of that, it would not tolerate another existing in the world that wasn't part of it. Everything belonged only to it. The world will be consumed by it. It would not tolerate an insolent fragment to take what was his.