The chamber beneath the Old Stones pulsed with a quiet, living rhythm, a breath of the earth itself. Pale green light flowed through the network of roots that crisscrossed the stone floor, branching like veins through the underground sanctum. At the heart of it stood the crystalline tree, its translucent limbs aglow with the memory of Lysara's legacy.
Aruna stood before it, her hand resting gently on the bark-like crystal, her thoughts distant, her pulse steady. She had seen much since stepping through the shattered remains of the Dawn Gate, seen empires fall, alliances form, blood spilled, and hope reborn. But never had she stood in a place that felt so sacred, so ancient. Not even the Tide's core had hummed with such living truth.
Behind her, Mira was kneeling at the base of the tree, sketching furiously in her journal, recording every vine, every glyph, every faint whisper that echoed from the glowing walls. Dren stood watch at the threshold, his harpoon strapped across his back, his dark eyes never ceasing their patrol. Kael paced slowly, hands resting on his twin daggers, visibly uneasy with how alive the stone seemed.
"The tree's root system," Mira murmured, her voice hushed in reverence,
"it runs deeper than the valley. It connects to something older, older than the Machine Age, maybe older than Lysara. A rootfire, that's what the scribes called it. A living pulse beneath the world."
Dren's voice was quiet, but firm.
"A gift, maybe. Or a trap."
Kael nodded grimly.
"I don't like this. The forest welcomed us, yes, but now it listens. Waits."
Aruna turned, her fingers brushing free from the tree.
"It's not hostile," she said.
"But it is watching. Judging us."
"And what if it finds us wanting?" Kael asked.
"Then we fall," Aruna answered plainly.
"But I don't think it will."
A soft tremor passed through the floor, a heartbeat of the earth, and a circular platform slowly rose from beneath the tree. Glyphs shimmered on its surface, illuminating the chamber in flickering, golden-green light. Mira rose to her feet, awe spreading across her face.
"It's an interface," she whispered.
"A conduit. Not just memory, power."
Aruna stepped onto the platform. The moment her feet touched the ancient stone, a wave of warmth passed through her. It wasn't like the radiant force she once held inside her from the Tide's fragment, it was gentler, older, more attuned to life than to energy. Her vision blurred, and then sharpened.
She was no longer in the chamber.
She stood beneath a burning sky, in a world not her own. Great cities floated on islands of stone above shattered forests. Machines roamed fields of glass, harvesting light from the air. And beneath it all, the roots, glowing green, winding through the shattered remains of a forgotten civilization. She saw Lysara, not as a warrior but as a young scholar, standing before the same crystalline tree, eyes wide with wonder and fear.
The vision shifted.
A warning.
Roots blackened by shadow. The sky torn by fire. Machines twisted by corruption, their cores pulsing with red light, the same red that had once glowed in the Dawn Gate.
She gasped, stumbling back, and Dren caught her before she could fall. Her breathing was heavy, her skin cold.
"I saw it," she said.
"What came before. What comes again."
Kael stepped closer, wary.
"Shadow Hunters?"
"Worse," she replied.
"The corruption, the same force that broke the first age. It's buried, still dormant, but it's waking."
Mira was pale.
"If it infects the rootfire…"
"Then the forest dies," Aruna said.
"And the valley with it."
Dren's jaw tightened.
"Then we burn it first."
"No," Aruna said sharply.
"We protect it. Fortify it. We let it speak."
Another pulse surged from the tree. A voice, ancient and layered, echoed through the chamber, not heard with ears, but felt in the marrow.
Guardian… chosen not by fate, but by fire. The seed remembers you. The world burns again. Will you tend the flame, or flee the ash?
Aruna's voice was steady. "I will protect this place. What must I do?"
The voice replied: Awaken the Watchers. Rekindle the roots. The east stirs with shadow. Beneath the horizon, the old enemy returns. You are not enough alone.
The platform flared and then dimmed. The vision faded, but the message remained.
"The Watchers," Mira repeated.
"Lysara wrote of them, sentinels, hidden in deep places. Guardians of the seed."
"We find them," Aruna said.
"Before the corruption does."
They emerged from the chamber into the forest's twilight, the wind carrying the scent of pine and blooming moss. Back in Dawn's Seed, the village buzzed with new energy. Word of the chamber had spread. The blueprint retrieved from beneath the rootfire had been entrusted to Kasim, who now worked day and night to craft its components. A new pulse network, one that would bind the valley's defenses to the living forest.
Tiro met them at the gate, bow slung over one shoulder, eyes bright.
"Seral's called a gathering. The clans are listening."
Aruna nodded.
"Then let's speak."
The gathering hall was overflowing. Seral stood at the center, staff in hand, while Kael's Ridge Clan lingered near the outer edges, still wary but no longer strangers. Aruna took the floor, flanked by Mira, Dren, and Kael.
"The rootfire is alive," she began.
"It holds more than power, it holds memory. And warning."
She spoke of the vision, of Lysara's truth, of the darkness that once consumed the world and the signs of its return. Murmurs rippled through the hall, but no one interrupted.
"There is still time," she said.
"But we cannot wait. We must awaken the Watchers. The forest gave us a gift, but now it needs us."
Seral stepped forward.
"Where will you begin?"
Aruna looked at Mira, who opened a scroll and unrolled it.
"Lysara marked four locations, old sanctums hidden across the eastern lands. One lies beneath the Shifting Dunes. Another in the basalt cliffs of the Whispering Coast. The others…" she hesitated.
"We're not sure. The records are fragmented."
"Then we find them," Kasim growled from the back.
"All of them."
Seral raised her staff.
"You'll have our support. But the village needs to be ready. If the corruption returns…"
Aruna nodded.
"Kasim stays to finish the pulse network. Tiro leads the scouts. Dren, Mira, and I will find the first Watcher."
"And me," Kael said.
"This fight's mine too."
The next dawn was crisp, the sky streaked with gold and violet. Aruna stood at the edge of the village, her gear packed, harpoon gleaming in the light. Dren joined her, silent as always, his eyes sweeping the horizon. Mira adjusted the straps on her satchel, journals tucked safely within. Kael arrived last, armed and solemn.
"The Shifting Dunes are three days east," Mira said.
"The old path skirts the Scorched Glade, Shadow Hunter territory."
Aruna looked east.
"Then we walk carefully. But we don't turn back."
As they set out, the forest stirred behind them, as if watching, and the crystalline roots beneath the earth hummed faintly. Beneath the rootfire, the first memory had been shared. But the deeper truths, the greater threat, still slept in shadow.
And in the far horizon, where the sea met the sky, a storm began to form, red and slow, like a wound returning.