The world returned in fragments.
A cool dampness on his cheek.
The faint sound of children's laughter echoing against stone.
The steady drip of water far away in the dark.
Mike opened his eyes slowly. His body felt heavy, as if the weight of the entire Hollow still pressed down on him. The smell was loamy, earth, moss, and something older, deeper.
He was lying on a bed of woven roots inside a vast cavern. Thin shafts of daylight filtered down through cracks above, catching motes of dust that drifted like lazy fireflies. The walls weren't just stone, they were alive with winding vegetation woven into every crack and crevice. Roots as thick as his arm spiraled across the rock, pulsing faintly with green light. They twisted into arches, alcoves, and strange shapes that almost looked like faces when he stared too long.
And the children…
There were at least a dozen of them. Human, by the look of them. They played in small clusters, rolling a ball made of bundled leaves, whispering secrets in the corners, chasing each other through the archways of roots. None seemed afraid. None seemed concerned that they were in the heart of a forest's underbelly.
One of the smaller ones, a boy with hair like spun gold noticed Mike stirring. He padded closer, barefoot and silent, eyes wide with curiosity. "You're awake," he said softly. His voice echoed in a strange, musical way, as if the cave repeated every word with its own tone.
Mike tried to sit up. Pain surged through his ribs, but he forced himself upright. "Where… is this?"
Before the boy could answer, a shadow moved in the far archway.
It stepped forward slowly, a towering figure made of twisted bark and coiled roots. Its form shifted as it walked, branches bending and creaking, leaves unfolding from its shoulders. Its face was an old oak's knotwork, yet its eyes glowed with deep, tranquil blue light. Moss draped its frame like a mantle. Every step left a faint trail of green sprouts in the dirt.
The Leshy.
It stopped a few feet away, towering over Mike but not looming in threat. Instead, it knelt with roots curling beneath it like a throne and regarded him with an expression that was both alien and patient.
"You burn too brightly for the forest," it said in a deep, wind-through-leaves voice. "The land feels your scars."
Mike swallowed hard, still trying to shake the fog in his head. "You… were out there. Killing demons."
The Leshy inclined its head. "This forest is mine to guard. And all who bring rot, I remove. But you…" It tilted its head slightly. "You are not rot. Not yet."
One of the roots on the ground curled toward Mike, brushing against the skin of his arm. A wave of calm seeped into him, muting the whispers for the first time in what felt like days.
"You carry something old," the Leshy continued, voice low. "Something hungry. Fragments of a divine cling to you. If you do not bind it, it will consume you, and the land will choke beneath your shadow."
Mike closed his eyes briefly, breathing in the sudden quiet inside his head. The moment felt almost… safe.
But when he opened his eyes again, the Leshy's gaze was sharper. "You have not yet chosen whether you are hunter… or wildfire."
The Leshy's roots shifted, curling upward to form a half-circle around them. The children fell silent, watching from the shadows, though not a single one looked afraid.
"You wish to leave this forest," the Leshy said. "But you carry a storm inside you. If it breaks here, everything will burn. The trees. The rivers. The people who still hide in the soil's embrace."
Mike's jaw tightened. "And if I don't pass whatever test you have in mind?"
The Leshy's glowing eyes dimmed slightly, like moonlight slipping behind a cloud. "Then the forest will claim you. Your body will feed the roots."
Before Mike could reply, the ground beneath him shifted. Roots twisted into a wide, flat circle, forcing him to stand. The walls of the cave fell away in a shimmer of green light replaced by an endless twilight grove. Black trees loomed in the mist, their branches tangled like claws.
"This is not the forest above," the Leshy said, its voice both in Mike's ears and deep inside his chest. "This is the heartwood. Here, the truth of you is laid bare. If you lose control here, the forest will swallow the flames."
Mike took a step forward and immediately the whispers returned.
Louder.
Sharper.
A chorus of voices tangled with screams and half-formed memories. He saw Persephone's pale scar, Bahamut's unblinking stare, Hunter's bloodied face. His claws flexed before he realized he'd shifted, scales running up one arm, his teeth sharpening.
From the mist ahead, figures emerged. Not demons. Not giants.
People.
The mangled refugees from the camp. A mother clutching a headless child. Hunter, but this time he was standing there normal without wounds. Behind them came the silhouettes of gods, Hades, Enki, Nyx, each watching him with cold disdain.
Mike's breath grew ragged. He could feel his dragon form pressing to break free. The ground beneath him trembled.
"You are not here to fight them," the Leshy's voice warned, echoing in the air. "You are here to chain what is inside you. If you burn them… you fail."
The first phantom stepped closer, its face melting into something twisted. Mike roared a sound halfway between human rage and dragon fury but forced himself not to attack. His hands shook. His claws cut into his own palms. Blood dripped onto the roots beneath him.
The voices screamed louder: You're too weak. You'll destroy them all. You were never meant to live.
"Shut up!" Mike bellowed. The forest groaned in reply.
Hunters figure stepped forward and he could see it mouth the words "You killed me."
Mike felt his breath catch in his throat as he fought not to say anything. Sorrow filling his mind. As Mike tried to look away the figure of Hunter was tortured and skin flayed slowly by a shadow. The scene cause Mike to roar "Stop!" As tears were coming down his face.
A third phantom lunged and Mike's instinct was to tear it apart. Instead, he dropped to one knee, slamming his fists into the dirt and pushing the divine fire down, burying it under sheer will. His vision blurred with gold and red threads, but he held on.
The grove around him trembled. The phantoms screamed once, then crumbled into falling leaves. The whispers quieted, not gone, but hushed like distant thunder.
The Leshy stepped forward out of the mist, its blue eyes brighter now.
"You chained it… for now. But chains rust, dragon. You must tend them, or they will break when you most need them whole."
Mike swayed on his feet, breathing hard. "I didn't… come here by choice."
"No," the Leshy agreed, "I brought you here to survive. Now you may leave and the forest will not hinder your path."
The twilight grove dissolved. The cave returned. The children were still there, watching him with unreadable expressions. The Leshy turned away, its form melting back into the roots of the cavern wall until only its glowing eyes remained.
"The next time you see me, the forest will know what you have chosen to be," it said. "Pray that you choose well."
Mike didn't respond. He pushed himself upright, every muscle aching, and began walking toward the faint light of the cave's exit.