Cael didn't hesitate.
He ducked into the newly opened tunnel, the vine-girl's parting words still echoing in his ears: "You can't fight them yet."
The roots shifted closed behind him the moment he passed through. Earth settled. Light dimmed.
And then he was alone.
The tunnel was narrower than the path above, formed not by hands but by living things. The walls pulsed faintly with a greenish hue, veins of luminescent sap trailing along them like constellations buried in dirt.
Cael ran his hand along the bark-lined walls. The Scabbard on his back had gone quiet again—but the new presence, the one from the crown, throbbed just beneath his skin. It wasn't a voice. Not like the Scabbard. It was more like instinct—like the forest was breathing with him, whispering through sensation rather than sound.
He moved quickly, boots barely making a sound. The air was thick, musky with age and rot, yet there was a freshness to it too—like breathing beneath rain-soaked leaves.
Time blurred.
He didn't know how long he walked before the tunnel opened up.
The roots parted into a massive cavern, domed and dripping with vines and moss. At the center was a pool of still water, dark as ink. Glowing spores floated above it in lazy spirals, illuminating the cavern like a starless night.
But it wasn't empty.
A figure knelt at the water's edge.
She wasn't the vine-girl.
This woman wore robes of twisted bark and leaves, dark as midnight. Her hair was a waterfall of ivy, cascading down her back in silent braids. And across her skin, intricate patterns of thorns bloomed like tattoos—alive, pulsing softly in time with her breath.
Cael stopped.
She turned.
Her eyes were bark-brown and ageless.
"You have been marked," she said, rising slowly. Her voice was low and heavy, like thunder muffled by moss. "The forest remembers you now."
Cael stepped cautiously closer. "You knew I was coming?"
"The roots whispered. The Vine Crown woke. The balance shifts."
She extended a hand—not in greeting, but inspection.
"Show me."
Cael hesitated.
Then held out his arm.
The vine bracelet had grown further, now covering nearly his whole forearm in tight red coils, thorned and blooming tiny white flowers.
She traced one blossom gently with a gnarled finger.
"You wear the first bloom," she said. "But the forest will demand more. Thornblood is not a title. It is a trial."
"I didn't choose this," Cael muttered.
"No," she said. "But you did not refuse it, either. That is enough."
She turned and gestured toward the pool.
"This is the Heartroot Spring. It shows truth. Reflection. And sometimes, memory."
He stepped forward.
In the still water, he saw his face—but it was older, sterner. His eyes were ringed with green. His body bore thorn-armored tattoos like hers. On his brow—the crown.
But then the reflection shifted.
He saw flames. Fields burning. A tower falling. A child weeping beneath a black sun. A sword of fire, cracking the forest floor.
He recoiled.
"What is that?"
"Possibility," she said. "The forest does not predict. It remembers what may yet be."
She knelt again.
"You carry two powers now. One ancient and wild." Her hand hovered near the vines. "And one older still—tied to oath, kingship, and blood."
Her eyes flicked to the Scabbard.
"You are a fracture waiting to split. You cannot remain between the two for long."
Cael swallowed.
"Then what do I do?"
"You choose a path, Thornblood. Vine or Blade. Growth or Flame. You can only follow both so far before they demand sacrifice."
Suddenly, the cavern shook.
The waters rippled. Roots trembled.
Voices echoed faintly from the tunnel above. Metal clanked. A shout rang out—muffled by soil, but clear enough.
"They're here," Cael said.
The woman rose swiftly.
"They are called Relic Hunters," she said. "Sanctioned by the Broken Crown to find and bind relic-bearers. They will not ask questions."
Cael's hand drifted to the Scabbard.
"I can fight."
She turned her head slightly.
"You can bleed."
A section of wall began to crumble—roots parting again to form a new path, this one tighter, darker.
She met his eyes.
"Beyond this path lies the Hollowgrove, where the Wild Tribunal holds council. They may teach you. Or test you. Or end you."
Another root-shrouded tunnel opened behind her.
"This one leads back to the surface, near the western edge of the Thornwood. If you flee now, you can escape their grasp. But you will leave the forest's heart behind."
She stepped back, out of his path.
"The Scabbard gives you protection. The Vine Crown offers you change. Only one can rule you."
Cael looked between the tunnels.
Behind him: danger. Before him: two paths. One into deeper wilds. One to the world beyond.
And within him: fire and thorn, locked in silent war.