Chapter Six: Whispering Roots
The night air was colder than usual.
A thin mist curled through the park, wrapping the trees in ghostly white. The city's hum faded behind him as Billy stepped off the pavement and into the forest — the same one where everything began.
It had been weeks since the accident at school.
The world had moved on, but Billy hadn't.
He needed answers — and every time he closed his eyes, he heard them whispering from this place.
He wore a hoodie, hands shoved in his pockets, trying to look ordinary. But his steps were heavy with something else — power. The ground almost recognized him.
Where he walked, leaves shifted slightly, as if bending toward him.
"Okay," he muttered, glancing around. "Let's see what you are."
He stopped in a clearing and exhaled, his breath fogging in the cold.
The moonlight spilled over the trees, and he could feel it — the energy under his feet, the hum of roots waiting for a command.
Billy closed his eyes.
He focused on the sound beneath sound — the heartbeat of the earth itself.
And then he felt it.
A pulse answered.
Vines slithered up from the ground, slow at first, then faster, like a thousand snakes twisting together. They wrapped around his arms, his waist, his chest.
He didn't fight it. This time, he let them come.
The vines lifted him off the ground, spinning him slowly. The world seemed to dissolve. His heartbeat synced with the forest's rhythm — strong, ancient, alive.
Then suddenly, pain.
A voice hissed in his mind, low and furious:
"You call to the roots, but you don't yet understand their hunger."
Billy gasped. The vines tightened.
"Who are you?" he shouted.
The voice only laughed — dark and echoing.
"You took what wasn't meant for man. You are the crack in the soil, the wound in the earth. The forest obeys you… but soon, it will feed on you."
The vines dropped him, slamming him into the ground. Dirt filled his mouth as the forest seemed to breathe around him — trees creaking, leaves whispering his name.
"Billy…"
He scrambled back, panting. "Stop it! Leave me alone!"
The whispers faded slowly, melting into the rustling wind. He sat there for a long time, trembling, until the glow under his skin dimmed and the forest went still again.
He looked down — his hands were covered in dirt and blood. But there was something else too: the roots under the soil were moving on their own, shifting toward him.
He stumbled back, terrified, but fascinated. He wasn't imagining it — they were reaching for him, craving him.
A sick realization hit him.
The power wasn't just inside him. It wanted to spread.
The next morning, Billy woke up with mud still under his fingernails and the metallic taste of fear in his mouth. He barely remembered how he got home.
At breakfast, his mom was talking — something about his grades, his teachers calling again — but he couldn't hear her. His thoughts were miles away.
On the TV, a news report flashed:
"Unusual plant growth discovered near Central Park. Authorities investigating what witnesses describe as 'green lightning' seen last night."
Billy froze.
He knew exactly where that was.
He turned off the TV. "I'm… not feeling good. I'll head to school later."
His mom frowned, but nodded. "You need rest, sweetheart."
The moment she left, he grabbed his hoodie and slipped out.
The city seemed louder today — car horns, chatter, the rhythm of normal life.
But underneath it, Billy could still hear something else. The whisper.
It was faint, like a heartbeat under the concrete.
"Come back…"
He shook his head, trying to focus, when a voice called behind him.
"Hey, plant freak!"
He turned. The bullies. The same ones from before — Marcus and his crew, standing near the school gates.
Marcus sneered. "You think you can just blow up the hallway and everyone forgets? You embarrassed me in front of everyone, freak."
Billy's hands curled into fists. "Walk away, Marcus."
Marcus shoved him. "Or what? You'll grow me a flower?"
Something inside Billy snapped. The earth trembled faintly. The grass near his shoes started to ripple.
Marcus laughed, but his voice cracked. "What the hell…?"
Billy felt his heart pound — the same pulse as before. His veins lit faint green under his skin.
"Defend yourself," the whisper urged.
"They would hurt you again. Show them."
"No…" Billy muttered. "Not again."
Marcus shoved him again — and that was it.
The pavement cracked.
Vines shot up from the cracks, coiling around Marcus's legs, yanking him backward. He screamed, clawing at the ground. The others ran, terrified.
Billy stumbled back, horrified. "Stop! Let him go!"
The vines didn't listen.
Marcus's eyes were wide with panic as the vines dragged him toward the edge of the road — toward a parked car.
Billy threw out his hands. "STOP!"
The vines froze — inches from impact. Then, slowly, they unraveled, slithering back into the ground like they'd never been there.
Marcus lay there gasping, staring up at Billy in terror.
He scrambled away. "You're not human!"
Billy didn't argue. He just turned and walked away.
The crowd that had gathered whispered, filming, pointing.
"Did you see that?"
"He's a monster."
"Mutant kid's gonna kill someone next."
Billy ran. He didn't stop until he reached the alley behind his apartment. There, he sank to his knees and punched the wall, hard.
"I didn't mean to… I didn't…"
But deep down, part of him wasn't sorry. Part of him felt relieved.
For the first time, he hadn't been the one getting hurt.
Across town, in the abandoned subway, Maskborn watched the footage on a cracked monitor.
The mask hummed against Draven's face. "He grows stronger. The connection is solidifying."
Draven said nothing. He was staring at the screen, rewinding the moment Billy's eyes flashed green.
"The energy signature," he muttered. "It's similar to the root-core readings."
The mask chuckled. "Of course. The boy's power is nature's rebellion. Pure, primal chaos. It answers to no one."
Draven turned, glaring at the wall of notes behind him — sketches, equations, energy diagrams. His lab glowed with the same green light as Billy's veins.
"I can harness it," he said quietly. "I just need to build the stabilizer."
"Or," the mask purred, "you could become the stabilizer."
Draven's hands tightened. "You mean… fuse with it?"
The mask smiled, voice low and hungry. "Imagine it. You, not just wielding creation… but commanding it. A new god, born of science and earth."
Draven hesitated. "And the boy?"
"Let him ripen," the mask whispered. "Power tastes better when it fears itself."
That night, Billy sat on his rooftop again.
He stared at his glowing hands, tears streaking down his cheeks.
The vines in his veins pulsed softly, almost like they were breathing.
He whispered to the stars, "If this is a gift… why does it feel like punishment?"
The wind carried no answer.
Only the faintest whisper, deep inside him:
"Because all roots… must break the soil before they grow."
He looked out at the skyline — at the city he loved and hated all at once — and something in him changed.
For the first time, he wasn't afraid of his power.
He was afraid of what would happen if he stopped using it.