IRONROOT
Chapter 1 – The Boy Nobody Saw
New York City didn't notice Billy Jameson.
In a place where millions of people shoved their way through crowded sidewalks, honked horns, shouted, cursed, and lived like the world revolved around them, Billy was the shadow no one looked at. Fifteen years old, thin as a lamppost, hair hanging into his eyes, he walked with his shoulders hunched, as if apologizing to the universe for taking up space.
School was worse.
"Root Boy," they called him. "Dirt Freak."
It had started as a joke when Billy volunteered for the school's community garden project. He loved planting things, watching them grow. Flowers didn't mock him. Trees didn't shove him against lockers. Soil didn't laugh when he spoke. People did.
That morning, Greg Taylor, the school's golden boy and quarterback, had slammed Billy's head into a row of lockers just for existing. The hallway erupted in laughter. Billy had stared at the floor, wishing he could sink into it.
By the time he trudged home, his arms ached with the bruises of the day, and his soul ached with the weight of being nobody.
So when Ms. Perez announced the school excursion — "Tomorrow we're visiting Greenwood Forest, the oldest natural preserve in New York State" — Billy felt a hollow dread. Field trips meant no safe corners. It meant Greg and his crew had an open playground.
Still, the next morning he climbed onto the bus with the others, shoving himself into the last row by the window. Rain streaked across the glass as skyscrapers melted into suburbs, then suburbs into thick stretches of green. He pressed his forehead to the cold glass and tried to imagine a world where he mattered.
Greenwood Forest didn't look like the city's tame little parks. It was vast, alive, whispering. Trees rose like giants, their canopies woven together, blotting out the sky. The air smelled damp and ancient, like secrets older than time.
Ms. Perez gave her usual warnings. "Stay with the group. Do not wander. This is still a wild place."
Billy stayed at the back, silent, tracing his fingers along rough trunks as they walked. While the others snapped selfies, he drifted farther behind until their laughter dissolved into echoes.
That was when he saw it.
A tree unlike any other.
It loomed in a sunken hollow, trunk twisted and scarred, branches so wide they touched the ground like weary arms. Its bark was etched with spirals that pulsed faintly as if glowing from within.
Billy felt a pull, a strange magnetic weight in his chest. His feet moved without thought until he stood at its roots.
He sank down, resting his back against its trunk. His voice cracked as he whispered the words he'd never dare say aloud.
"Why can't I be stronger?"
For a long moment there was only the rustle of leaves. Then—
Child…
Billy's heart stopped.
The voice wasn't heard with ears. It throbbed in his skull, old and vast, carrying the weight of centuries.
He scrambled to his feet. "Who's there?"
I am dying.
The bark split, a jagged crack opening to reveal a green glow. Billy stumbled backward, but the voice held him in place.
I have waited for one who listens. One who carries the silence of the earth. Touch me… or my line ends forever.
Billy shook his head, trembling. "This isn't real. Trees don't talk."
The glow pulsed brighter. The city poisoned my children. The roots starve. I must choose a successor. You will carry me.
Before he could protest, roots slithered from the soil, curling gently around his ankles like living ropes. Panic surged through him, but something deeper — a strange aching familiarity — kept him from screaming.
"Why me?" His voice cracked.
Because you are unseen. And unseen things grow deep.
Billy's breath shook. Against every instinct, he raised his hand and pressed it to the glowing wound in the bark.
The world shattered.
Green fire roared up his arm, searing into his veins. He gasped, convulsing as images slammed into his head — forests sprouting from oceans, storms tearing mountains apart, vines devouring stone. He felt the slow heartbeat of the earth itself.
He screamed, but no sound came. His skin lit up, veins glowing emerald. Roots coiled tighter, steadying him as power surged through his body, breaking him open and remaking him all at once.
Then silence.
Billy collapsed, panting in the mud. The glow faded from the tree, leaving it dark and still.
It is done, the voice whispered faintly. My roots are your roots now. My strength, your strength. Protect the world that forgot me.
Billy staggered to his feet. His hands trembled. Beneath his skin, green light flickered faintly like fireflies. When he pressed his palm to the soil, tiny shoots exploded upward, writhing like living snakes. He yanked his hand back, heart hammering.
"What… what did you do to me?"
No answer. The tree was silent again, as if dead.
But Billy knew. Something inside him had changed forever.
"Billy?"
The voice snapped him back. Footsteps crunched on the trail above.
Greg.
Billy's stomach dropped. He shoved his glowing hands into his pockets.
Greg peered down into the hollow, smirking. "What's the freak doing out here? Talking to trees?" He chuckled. "Figures."
Billy didn't answer. His heart raced, but beneath it was something new — a quiet hum of power, steady as a heartbeat.
Greg jumped down into the hollow, swagger in every step. "Teacher's looking for you. But hey, while it's just us—" He shoved Billy hard in the chest.
Billy staggered but didn't fall. The roots beneath the soil twitched. His breath caught. The forest leaned in, branches creaking as if listening.
Greg sneered. "What's with your eyes? You look like you're gonna cry."
Billy clenched his fists. The green veins under his skin glowed faintly, pulsing with his anger. He could feel the earth shifting, waiting for his command. He imagined the roots snapping upward, wrapping around Greg, squeezing until he begged for mercy.
For the first time in his life, Billy wasn't helpless. He could end it. He could make Greg feel everything he'd felt.
His fingers trembled with the temptation.
Then he pulled back. The glow dimmed. The roots stilled.
Greg snorted, oblivious. "Weirdo." He turned and stomped away.
Billy sagged against the tree, chest heaving.
He had power now. Power that no one could take from him. But it scared him as much as it thrilled him.
As he walked back to the group, the forest whispered behind him, a chorus of unseen voices rustling through the leaves:
Ironroot…
The name seared itself into his mind. Not an insult. Not a joke. A promise.
And for the first time in his life, Billy smiled.