Chapter 4: Root and Thorn
The deeper they walked into the Grove, the less the world felt like her own. Liora noticed it first in the silence—not an ordinary quiet, but a hollow absence of sound, like something had swallowed the wind and the birds. Even Kaelen's footsteps seemed to make no noise against the moss-covered ground.
Towering trees loomed over them, their bark twisted and blackened with age. Their limbs arched like clawed hands, blotting out the sky. The further they went, the more the forest seemed to fold in around them, and the trail behind them disappeared into darkness.
Kaelen walked ahead in silence, his cloak brushing the undergrowth. Every so often, he would glance back to make sure Liora was still following. She met his gaze without flinching, though her insides twisted with anxiety. She clutched the hilt of her dagger, though she knew it would be useless against whatever ancient magic lingered in the shadows.
"Why is it so quiet?" she finally asked.
Kaelen stopped beside a massive tree with gnarled roots coiled like snakes. "Because we've entered the heartwood," he said. "This is where the Grove begins to feel."
Liora frowned. "Feel?"
He nodded, laying a hand against the trunk. "The Grove is not just enchanted—it's alive. Aware. It remembers every footfall, every trespass. That's why the silence—because it's listening."
She didn't like the way he said it, as if the forest were some old predator just waiting to strike.
"How far in are we?" she asked.
Kaelen lowered his hand. "Far enough that it knows your name."
Before she could ask what that meant, a sudden shift in the air made her freeze. The temperature dropped, her breath turning to mist. A rustling rose around them—not wind, but a movement through the trees, something unseen brushing against leaves, snapping twigs.
Kaelen reached for his staff. "Don't move."
Liora's hand went to her dagger again, fingers trembling. She scanned the trees, searching for the source of the sound. Shadows moved—too fast, too fluid. Shapes that flickered between the trunks, never fully forming. Eyes blinked open in the bark, glowing faintly gold before vanishing again.
And then a voice—whispered and wrong—echoed in her mind.
Daughter of kings. Sister of ruin. Why do you walk where your blood once fled?
Liora clutched her head, the voice pulsing like a heartbeat behind her eyes. She staggered backward, her foot catching a root, and she fell hard onto the mossy ground. The trees above her seemed to ripple, the branches shifting into faces—ancient, hollow-eyed, and weeping sap.
Kaelen knelt beside her, gripping her shoulder. "It's testing you. This is the Grove's first thorn—it wants to know if you belong."
"I—I heard a voice," she whispered.
"You'll hear many before this is over. Some will sound like your family. Others will sound like yourself. None of them are real."
"How do you know that?"
His face darkened. "Because I once believed them."
Liora steadied her breathing. The voice had felt like it came from within her, like it knew her deepest doubts, her guilt, her fears. The Grove wasn't just listening—it was speaking back.
When she stood again, Kaelen was already moving. She followed, her senses sharp, wary of every shifting shadow.
Soon they came to a clearing, and Liora's breath caught. In the center stood a tree unlike the others—tall and impossibly white, its trunk smooth as marble and its leaves glowing faintly silver.
Kaelen approached it reverently. "The Rootheart."
Liora stepped closer, entranced. The tree pulsed with quiet power. It didn't feel malevolent—just ancient, patient. She felt drawn to it, as if some part of her had always belonged here.
"It's beautiful," she said softly.
Kaelen didn't answer at first. His gaze was fixed on the base of the tree. "Look."
She followed his eyes—and saw the carvings.
Dozens of names had been etched into the bark. Some were worn smooth with age, others fresh as if cut that morning. Liora stepped closer and read one aloud. "Aven… Corra… Maelis…"
Kaelen's voice was tight. "All who came before. All who entered seeking the Grove's power."
She turned to him. "Are they alive?"
His silence was answer enough.
Liora looked again at the names—and there, near the bottom, her breath caught.
"Renan," she whispered. "That's my brother's name."
Kaelen's head snapped toward her. "What?"
She pointed. "It's there. Carved just last season."
He approached, eyes narrowed, and confirmed it. "That wasn't there when I came through last. He must've followed you."
Liora's chest tightened. "He tried to warn me. I thought he stayed behind."
"He didn't. And now he's inside the Grove."
A wave of guilt surged through her. She had wanted to uncover the truth. She hadn't meant to endanger Renan—but she had. And now he was somewhere in this cursed forest, alone.
She looked back at Kaelen. "We have to find him."
Kaelen shook his head. "If he's alive, he's deeper in. And that means going further into the Grove's heart."
"I don't care. He's my brother. I have to try."
Kaelen studied her for a moment, then nodded grimly. "Then you must understand something, Liora. The Grove doesn't show the same face to everyone. Paths twist. Memories bleed. You may find him—but he may not be the same."
Liora turned back toward the path ahead, her resolve solidifying like iron in her spine. "Then I'll bring him back. No matter what."
Together, they left the Rootheart behind, stepping deeper into the woods where shadows moved like breath and the trees whispered secrets older than time. The Grove had tested her, and she had not turned away.
But it was only the beginning.
To be continued…