Jason walked, and the roots parted like it was the red sea.
They did not retreat in fear or recoil in aggression. They simply moved aside, clearing a path that had not existed moments before. The green tendrils curled away from his feet, revealing stone that had been hidden for centuries. Branches that had blocked every other corridor arched upward like a cathedral ceiling, creating a tunnel that led deeper into the castle.
"It is leading me somewhere," Jason muttered to himself.
He did not know why, he did not know how. But the roots were not attacking him—they were guiding him. Every turn he made, they anticipated.
Every hesitation, they waited. The path ahead cleared only when he was ready to step forward.
He raised his hand and focused. The air shimmered. A thin, translucent barrier materialized around him, the same barrier he had taken from the watcher.
