Then, Kyrian simply fell to his knees and collapsed sideways onto the dusty ground, feigning a final breakdown. He remained motionless, but his senses stayed at their maximum alertness.
It did not take long for the suction root, which until then had been moving with vegetal slowness, to tremble.
Its tip, a kind of rounded mouth without teeth but with an inner black glow, lifted itself from the ground like a snake scenting the air.
It turned in Kyrian's direction. The energy of hostility that impregnated it seemed to grow sharper, more interested.
Kyrian maintained his façade of weakness. The root approached, sliding over the ground with a wet and repulsive sound.
It did not rush. It seemed to evaluate him, as if the strange combination of superficial weakness and deep richness confused its simple predatory instincts. After a long moment of hesitation, the tip of the root gently touched Kyrian's forehead.
