The canopy of the Golmore Jungle swallowed the light as soon as Clive's party left the Ozmone Plain. Humid air clung to their skin, and every shadow seemed to breathe. Trees grew close, their roots twisting like serpents, and the undergrowth shifted with unseen life.
"This place feels… wrong," Serah whispered, hugging herself.
"Not wrong," Lunafreya murmured, fingertips brushing a vine that recoiled at her touch. "Alive. The Wood knows we are here."
Auron's gravelly voice rumbled. "Alive or not, it bleeds when cut."
Aerith lingered at the rear, her staff resting against the soil. She shivered faintly. "It isn't just alive. It's watching."
---
They had barely taken twenty steps into The Needlebrake before the jungle struck.
A shriek tore through the air. A coeurl leapt from the shadows, its whiskers crackling with lightning. A panther lunged close behind, and slithering through the foliage came a Malboro, its stinking breath rolling like a foul tide.
"Here they come!" Serah cried, raising her bow.
Clive surged forward, his sword blazing as Ifrit's fire roared through him. He cleaved the panther mid-leap, flames trailing in his wake, the ground itself seared black.
Auron stepped beside him, great sword glowing with his aura. Each strike that came his way slowed as though hitting unseen resistance, the force bled away by his shimmering ward. "Hold the line," he barked, voice steady as stone.
Lunafreya lifted her hands, silver light spilling down in spears of the Oracle that pinned the coeurl against a trunk. Water followed, bursting from the ground in a rushing torrent that crushed the Malboro's tentacles.
Mog shimmered into weapon form, caught smoothly in Serah's hands. "Paradigm shift, kupo!" his smug voice rang out as her bow twisted into a radiant bowsword. She spun, arrows melting into blades of light, slashing through vines and beast alike.
Vivi lifted his staff — and with the Paradigm Shift flaring, his fire spell erupted instantly, no chanting, no delay. He grinned beneath his hat brim, eyes glinting as a second spell followed in a crackle of lightning that seared into the Malboro's hide.
The ground betrayed them next. Mud sucked at their boots, vines twined their legs, and water pooled to drown their footing.
Clive snarled. "Terra Filma!"
Their voices rose with his, a chorus.
The battlefield shifted. Mud hardened into stone, vines coiled into steady platforms, water drained harmlessly into the soil.
Aerith gasped, clutching her staff. "You… you just changed the land itself."
She watched as Clive and Auron fought shoulder to shoulder, as Luna wove light and water into a seamless flow, as Vivi's magic erupted like cannons, as Serah and Mog shifted forms mid-battle with dazzling precision. Her lips parted in awe.
"I have to learn it," she whispered. "Terra Filma. I need to know it."
Even as monsters surged again, she closed her eyes. Lunafreya's voice guided her quickly through the flow, but Aerith reached with instinct. The ground rippled beneath her feet, stabilizing again, paths forming from tangled vines.
Light burst from her staff.
The jungle itself steadied, their footing stronger, the field clearer.
Aerith opened her eyes, smiling. "Useful."
The others froze mid-strike.
"You learned it… in one try?" Serah blurted.
Mog squeaked indignantly. "Not fair, kupo!"
Even Auron gave a low grunt of surprise.
The battle ended with fire and steel, magic and shifting forms. At last the final coeurl collapsed into ash. Silence pressed in heavy, broken only by their ragged breaths.
---
They pressed deeper, into Whisperleaf Way. Here the jungle grew eerily quiet. The calls of beasts faded, replaced by a thick stillness. The air pressed heavy against their skin, as though the Wood itself listened to each breath.
Aerith slowed, her hand brushing bark. Her face paled. "Something's wrong."
Clive turned, brows furrowed. "Wrong?"
Her voice trembled. "The forest is screaming. Not in words, but in pain. It's crying for help."
Vivi shivered. It reminded him of the Mist from his own world—the way it whispered. He believed her instantly.
They walked on through Dell of the Dreamer, a hollow where pale light broke through the canopy in silvery shafts. It should have felt peaceful, but instead the air seemed heavy with grief.
At last they reached The Parting Glade.
---
A wall of tangled roots barred the path, twined so thickly that even Auron's great sword could not cut through. Faint aether shimmered across the surface like a veil, pulsing with quiet strength.
"Looks like the end," Auron muttered.
"No," Aerith whispered. She stepped forward, pressing her staff into the soil. Closing her eyes, she spoke softly: "Please. We want to help. Let us through."
The vines shuddered. The aether pulsed.
And then, impossibly, the jungle shifted. Roots uncoiled, vines slid aside, and a narrow path opened, glowing faintly with green light.
Serah staggered back. "It… it listened to her."
Mog flailed his little arms. "Why only her, kupo?! Mog is just as good!"
Lunafreya's voice was hushed with awe. "Because the Wood recognizes her. It knows she listens."
Clive's grip tightened on his blade. He didn't trust unseen powers, but he could not deny the truth before him.
Aerith turned, her smile gentle but her eyes troubled. "The forest wants me to come. Eryut Village lies beyond."
Clive gave a firm nod. "Then we follow your lead."
One by one they stepped into the opened path, swallowed by the living jungle as it guided them deeper, toward a village no outsider should ever see.