The sky above Dareth's ruined temple turned a bruised violet, streaked with threads of gold that looked like cracks in the heavens themselves. Sera stood still beneath the shattered archway, her boots crunching over long-dried vines and fractured stones that once formed sacred patterns. The silence was profound—no birds, no wind, just the low, rhythmic thrum that pulsed from deep beneath the floor.
Lorien stepped beside her, eyes narrowed. "This place feels…wrong."
"It's not wrong," said Sera softly, brushing her fingers along the edge of a broken pillar. "It's ancient. And it remembers."
Their journey to the temple had been perilous. From the marsh of glass-eyed willows to the mountains whispering forgotten names, every mile had tested them. But none had prepared them for what awaited here.
"It's under us," Jax muttered, crouching down and pressing his ear to the ground. "There's something alive under this floor."
Sera nodded. "The Heartroot. It's what the Ancients used to connect realms. It's dormant now—but not dead."
"What exactly are we planning to do with it?" Lorien asked. His hands hovered near the hilts of his twin blades. "Dig it up and hope it grants us wishes?"
Sera turned to face them both. "We're not here to use it. We're here to awaken it."
Jax straightened, brushing dust from his jacket. "Even worse."
Before either of them could protest further, the floor beneath them groaned. Not cracked—groaned. As if something deep beneath the stones had heard them and stirred. The sound was not loud but carried weight, like the breath of a god shifting in its sleep.
"Get back," Lorien hissed, but Sera didn't move.
Instead, she stepped forward, toward the center of the hall, where a broken mosaic still shimmered with hints of forgotten colors. The image was nearly eroded, but enough remained: a tree with roots spiraling into darkness, and branches touching stars.
Sera removed the glove from her left hand, revealing the sigil that had burned itself into her palm since crossing through the portal weeks ago. She knelt, pressing her hand against the roots on the mosaic.
"May the worlds remember," she whispered.
The change was instant.
Light burst from the point of contact—golden veins raced outward, filling cracks in the stone with a molten glow. The entire floor pulsed as if the temple itself drew a deep breath. Dust flew up, caught in rising currents of warm air, and the pillars groaned like waking giants.
Jax stumbled back. "That's our cue to run!"
But Sera's voice held firm. "No. This is the beginning."
The temple responded to her words.
The ground beneath them split—not violently, but purposefully. A circular platform, perfectly smooth and untouched by age, rose from the center, carved with concentric runes that shimmered with each passing second. The air was filled with a new scent—earth after rain, ozone, something floral and bittersweet.
Lorien was staring at Sera now, not in fear, but with realization. "You weren't just chosen. You were born for this."
"I don't know what I am anymore," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I know this—this was waiting for me."
A figure appeared at the edge of the light. Cloaked in silver and shadow, face obscured beneath a hood. Its presence was not hostile, but immense—like a storm standing still. The figure stepped forward, boots making no sound on the stone.
"You have stirred the Root," the figure said, voice neither male nor female but something in between. "What right do you claim to wake what sleeps between worlds?"
"I don't claim a right," Sera replied, rising to her feet. "But I bring a warning."
The figure cocked its head. "A warning?"
"There's a fracture growing between realms. I've seen it. Felt it. If we don't reconnect the Heartroot, all worlds—yours, mine, theirs—will fall."
The figure regarded her in silence for a long moment. Then, it raised one arm, pointing toward the platform. "Step forward, bearer of the Mark. Let the Root test your truth."
Lorien grabbed her arm. "Sera, don't. You don't know what it wants."
"I have to," she said, softly. "If there's any chance to fix what's coming, this is it."
She stepped onto the platform.
At once, the world blurred. The temple fell away, replaced by visions—memories that weren't hers. A girl with flame in her eyes, running through a burning forest. A man made of glass, shattering with a whisper. A city upside-down in the sky, crumbling as bells rang backwards. She saw them all—and then she saw herself.
A mirror.
She stood before her own reflection—but not as she was. In this vision, her eyes glowed, her hair was woven with starlight, and power rippled from her every breath. The reflection reached out.
Sera stepped forward—and touched it.
Pain lanced through her—pure, searing light—and then calm. Understanding.
When she opened her eyes, she was back in the temple.
The cloaked figure was kneeling. "The Root accepts your truth."
Lorien and Jax rushed to her side, both pale, both shaken.
"What did you see?" Jax asked.
"Possibilities," Sera murmured. "Versions of myself. Of what I could become—or already have been."
Lorien looked toward the cloaked figure. "What happens now?"
The figure stood. "Now, the Heartroot begins to awaken. But its power comes with a cost. There are those who will feel its stirring…and they will come to stop it."
Sera took a breath. "Let them come."
The figure vanished into dust, drifting like silver motes into the air.
The temple was no longer silent. The hum beneath their feet was stronger now—alive. A pulse. A heartbeat.
The Root was waking.