The Behemorph's eyes found them. It did not posture neither did it hesitate, it's eyes flashed with malice and then it advanced.
"We can't go around!" Soren snarled.
"No," Clayton said, gritting his teeth. "We go through."
BZZZ!
He planted his foot and roots climbed his calves and locked him to the stair.
His Heartseed beat hard and bright as he felt Torren's fire through the Sporelink. He felt Veyra's breath, the tight, clean lines of her draw. He felt Mira's steady pressure, Soren's burn, Kaelin's absence, and Harrick's grit on the wind.
"Hold the rhythm," he growled. "We do this as one".
The Hybrid Behemorph opened its crown as thorns flared, and from it spores vented in a mist. The mist drifted toward them, soft, lazy, and harmless-looking.
"Don't breathe it," Mira snapped. "Masks!"
They pulled masks up that were created from Lorn's weave.
"Torren," Clayton called. "Crack it."
