POV: Ethan Cole
Word Count: ~1,750
Tone: Training montage → political tension → revelation
Hook: "The Concord wasn't unified. It was fracturing."
Ethan didn't sleep.
He tried.
Found a hammock woven from soft vines in a quiet corner of the sanctuary. Lay down. Closed his eyes.
And immediately saw the birch-man's face cracking open.
Heard the moss-woman's scream.
Felt the vine-cultist exploding under his hands.
He opened his eyes.
[LE: 324/500]
[Regeneration active: +5/min (sanctuary boost)]
[Trauma processing: 2%]
[You're going to need so much therapy. 😊]
Ethan sat up.
Around him, other Users slept.
Some peacefully.
Others thrashing. Muttering. One woman was crying softly, vines growing from her tear ducts, curling down her cheeks like wet roots.
No one helped her.
They just... slept.
Like this was normal.
Ethan stood.
Wandered through the sanctuary.
The garden was quiet. The bioluminescent vines overhead pulsed gently, mimicking a day-night cycle. Fake stars.
He found Mira near the training area.
A cleared space at the eastern edge of the chamber. Dirt floor. Woven root dummies standing in rows. Targets made of compressed moss.
Mira was fighting one of the dummies.
Not with weapons.
With vines.
They erupted from her forearms—controlled, precise—whipping out to strike the dummy's head, chest, legs. Each impact left glowing green marks. LE burns.
She moved like water.
Fluid. Efficient. Deadly.
The dummy collapsed.
Mira stood over it, breathing steady, vines retracting back into her skin.
No wounds.
She'd done this so many times her body didn't even bleed anymore.
"You're up early," she said without turning.
Ethan stepped closer.
"Couldn't sleep."
"Good. Sleep is a luxury." Mira turned to face him. "We start now."
"It's four in the morning—"
"Thorne doesn't care what time it is." She gestured toward the dummies. "Hit one."
Ethan stared at her.
"I don't—"
"You killed three cultists last night. You know how to channel LE into an attack. Do it again. Controlled this time."
Ethan approached the nearest dummy.
It was shaped like a person. Crude. Faceless.
He raised his hand.
"I don't want to—"
"Irrelevant." Mira's voice was cold. "You think the next Thornbound squad will care if you don't want to fight? You think Thorne's kill team will ask nicely?" She stepped closer. "Hit. The. Dummy."
Ethan closed his eyes.
Felt the LE pooling in his chest.
Warm. Alive. Hungry.
He thought about the birch-man.
The way his life had felt sweet going down.
Ethan's stomach turned.
"I can't—"
"HIT IT."
Ethan snapped.
His hand shot out—LIFE DRAIN—and slammed into the dummy's chest.
The LE surged.
But wrong.
Uncontrolled.
The dummy didn't drain.
It exploded.
Roots detonated outward, splinters flying, moss spraying across the dirt.
Ethan staggered back.
[LE: 298/500]
[-26 LE discharged (uncontrolled burst)]
[Accuracy: 12%]
[You just murdered a training dummy. Congratulations. 😤]
Mira walked over.
Looked at the remains.
Looked at Ethan.
"Again," she said.
"What—"
"Again."
They trained for three hours.
By the end, Ethan had destroyed eight dummies.
Learned to control his LE output—barely.
Managed one successful Root Snare that actually restrained a target instead of ripping it apart.
His LE dropped to 203.
His hands were shaking.
His forearms were covered in tiny puncture wounds where thorns had tried to sprout during combat.
Mira handed him a canteen.
"Drink. LE-infused water. You need to stabilize."
Ethan drank.
It tasted like pond scum and battery acid.
[+47 LE]
[Current: 250/500]
He handed back the canteen.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked.
Mira raised an eyebrow.
"Teaching you to survive?"
"Helping me at all. You don't know me. I'm just—just some random guy who touched a weird seed—"
"You're a Tier-3 Conduit," Mira interrupted. "You're not random. You're valuable." She paused. "And I've seen what Thorne does to valuable people."
Something flickered in her expression.
Gone in a second.
But Ethan saw it.
"You lost someone," he said quietly.
Mira's jaw tightened.
"We all lost someone." She turned away. "Get cleaned up. Concord council meets in twenty minutes. You're required to attend."
"Why—"
"Because they're going to vote on whether to keep you or hand you over to Thorne."
Ethan's blood went cold.
"What?"
Mira glanced back.
Her expression was unreadable.
"Welcome to sanctuary politics," she said.
And walked away.
The council chamber was a root-woven dome at the sanctuary's northern edge.
Smaller than the main garden. More claustrophobic.
Seven people sat in a circle.
Sylvia Chen. Mira. And five others Ethan didn't recognize.
All of them had the glow.
All of them looked tired.
Ethan stood in the center.
On trial.
"This is insane," said one of the council members—a man, thirties, with bark-textured skin and eyes like wet leaves. "We can't protect a Conduit. Thorne will obliterate us."
"They'll obliterate us anyway," Mira shot back. "Giving up Ethan just delays the inevitable."
"Delays means survives," another council member snapped—a woman, older, her hair literally made of flowering vines. "Forty-three people live here. You want to sacrifice them for one boy?"
"That one boy has more LE than all of us combined," Sylvia said calmly. "If we can train him—"
"If." The bark-skinned man leaned forward. "And if we can't? If Thorne comes before he's ready? We all die. For nothing."
"He's already killed three Thornbound," Mira said.
Silence.
The council members stared at Ethan.
"Is that true?" Sylvia asked.
Ethan swallowed.
"Yes."
"How?"
"I—I don't know. I just... reacted."
The vine-haired woman laughed.
Bitter. Sharp.
"Reacted. You hear that? He doesn't even know what he's doing. And we're supposed to bet forty-three lives on instinct?"
"Better than betting on cowardice," Mira said coldly.
The woman stood.
"I am not a coward—"
"Then stop acting like one."
"ENOUGH."
The voice came from the back of the chamber.
Everyone turned.
A man stepped forward.
Old. Seventy, maybe. Skin like polished walnut. His eyes were white—not blind, but overgrown—covered in a thin film of pale lichen.
But when he looked at Ethan, Ethan felt it.
Like being seen through.
Down to the roots.
"I am Elder Kaito," the man said quietly. "I have lived in this sanctuary for sixteen years. Since before the Awakening. Since before the Verdant even existed." He stepped closer to Ethan. "I have seen many Conduits. Tested. Trained. Buried."
He stopped two feet away.
"May I?" he asked.
"May you what—"
Kaito reached out.
Touched Ethan's chest.
The world shifted.
Ethan was standing in a forest.
Not the sanctuary.
A real forest.
Ancient. Primordial.
Trees the size of skyscrapers. Roots like highways. The canopy so thick the sky was just a green blur.
And in the center—
A tree.
No.
The Tree.
Massive beyond comprehension. Its trunk was wider than a city block. Its roots stretched to the horizon.
And it was alive.
Breathing.
Pulsing.
Watching.
Ethan fell to his knees.
"What is this—"
"The First Forest," Kaito's voice echoed. "The Primordial consciousness. The source of all Verdant power." He appeared beside Ethan, translucent, ghostly. "Most Conduits carry a fragment. A seed. A branch."
He pointed at Ethan's chest.
"You carry roots."
Ethan looked down.
His chest was transparent.
Inside, he could see his heart.
And wrapped around it—
Roots.
Living roots. Glowing. Pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
Growing into his heart.
Becoming part of it.
"Oh god—"
"The First Forest didn't choose you by accident," Kaito said quietly. "It chose you because you can carry it. Host it. Become its anchor in this world."
He leaned closer.
"You're not a Conduit, Ethan Cole."
"You're a Seedbed."
Ethan gasped.
The vision shattered.
He was back in the council chamber.
Kaito's hand still on his chest.
Everyone staring.
Kaito withdrew his hand.
Turned to the council.
"We keep him," he said simply.
"Elder, if Thorne—"
"We keep him." Kaito's voice was iron. "Because if we don't, the First Forest will find another host. And the next one might not be as... reluctant to use its power."
He looked at Ethan.
"You feel it, don't you? The hunger. The pull. The urge to grow. Consume. Spread."
Ethan's hands were shaking.
"Yes," he whispered.
Kaito nodded.
"Then we teach you to control it. Before it controls you."
He turned back to the council.
"Vote."
Silence.
Then, one by one, hands rose.
Sylvia. Mira. Three others.
Five to two.
"Motion passes," Sylvia said quietly. "Ethan stays."
The vine-haired woman stood abruptly.
"Then you've killed us all," she said.
And walked out.
After the meeting, Ethan sat alone in the garden.
Staring at his hands.
[LE: 267/500]
[Primordial Integration: 34%]
[You're becoming less human every day. Fun! 🌱]
Mira sat down beside him.
"You okay?"
Ethan laughed.
It sounded broken.
"I have roots growing through my heart. Do I look okay?"
Mira was quiet for a moment.
Then: "I had vines growing through my lungs for six months. Couldn't breathe without coughing up sap. Thought I was going to die."
Ethan looked at her.
"What happened?"
"I learned to make them part of me. Instead of fighting it." She held up her hand. Vines slithered beneath her skin, visible through her veins. "It's not a curse, Ethan. It's just... different."
"Different," Ethan repeated hollowly.
Mira stood.
"Thorne's deadline is in 68 hours. We have that long to make you dangerous." She looked down at him. "Get some rest. Tomorrow, we escalate."
She walked away.
Ethan sat alone.
Feeling the roots around his heart.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
Growing.