Mae wanted to question the creature. She wanted to demand answers, to understand why she had been brought here, to know what he wanted from her. But something deep in her gut told her to stay silent. He was letting her live. That was the only reason she was still breathing.
If she annoyed him, if she pushed too hard, if she asked the wrong question—those visions of death would return, and this time, they might not stop.
She looked around the chamber. Her eyes scanned the walls, the ceiling, the floor, searching for any exit that had opened up to her. A door, crack, or even a gap in the roots. However, there was nothing.
The roots had sealed themselves tight, woven together into an unbroken shell of living wood. No gaps. No weaknesses. The chamber was a prison, and she was the captive.
Mae's heart pounded. Her hooves scraped against the stone.
"If Jason comes here," she thought, "it might trigger something in him again."
