Chapter 286: The Heresy
The teal light of the Under-Roots flickered, casting long, skeletal shadows against the tunnel walls. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and ancient decay, a cloying perfume that masked the smell of the dried corpse at our feet.
I held the scroll open. The parchment was brittle, threatening to disintegrate in the humidity, but the magical ink burned with a defiant blue luminescence.
"Read it," Leon whispered. His voice was hushed, reverent, as if we were standing in a church rather than a dungeon. "What did they find?"
I adjusted my cracked glasses, my eyes scanning the elegant, frantic script of the dead Elf.
"It's a confession," I said. "And a warning."
I began to read aloud, my voice echoing softly in the hollow root.
"My name is Elandra, High Arborist of the Third Circle. If you are reading this, I have failed. The roots are not dying of natural causes. They are being poisoned."
I paused, scrolling down to the next entry.
