Chương 5: Chapter 7: What Still Grows- Part III

The feeling unsettled me more than it should have. For years, silence inside my own thoughts had meant survival. In distance and isolation, it is easier not to remember voices that no longer existed. Now warmth spread quietly beneath my ribs where only exhaustion and Nemain's whisper had lived for far too long and the sword hated it. Its pulse sharpened hard enough against my hip that even Garrick noticed.

"That thing's getting louder," he muttered uneasily. Nemain vibrated once beneath the scabbard, hungry and angry. The whisper slid faintly through the back of my thoughts again. Stoooop… Leeeave thiiis plaaace… I pressed one hand firmly against the black hilt without looking away from the sapling.

"No." The word left my mouth quietly. Not spoken to Garrick or Aibell. The sword recoiled faintly anyway. Aibell noticed immediately.

"You can hear it." I nodded once.

"What does it say?" I considered lying for once, but decided against it.

"That this is a mistake." Garrick folded his arms near the gate.

"That's encouraging."

"It's a sword possessed by a demon," I replied.

"Its intentions are questionable."

"That explanation somehow improved nothing." Garrick muttered. The garden shifted softly around us again. A faint breeze moved through the enclosed walls despite the still afternoon air beyond them. Tiny shoots continued pushing carefully through the dark soil while the moss spreading across the cracked stones brightened faintly into deeper green. The life beneath the earth was answering faster now, not because of power but because it had been waiting.

Usually neglected ground, forgotten things and abandoned places always listened hardest but it wasn't so here. I closed my eyes briefly and let my breathing slow alongside the pulse beneath the soil. The old language rose again naturally afterward. Quieter this time.

"Aen'vhal enora…" The sapling trembled gently. Roots spread outward beneath the garden floor in delicate threads I could feel brushing against stone and sleeping earth alike. The sensation flowed back through me in return; cold water deep underground, insects stirring beneath moss, stubborn roots refusing to die despite neglect. Aibell watched the garden with open wonder now.

"I thought druid stories were exaggerated."

"They usually are," I replied. Aibell glanced toward the pale light spreading faintly through the roots beneath the earth.

"This doesn't feel exaggerated." I rested one hand quietly against the sapling's thin trunk.

"That's because most stories forget the quiet parts." The important parts, anyone could imagine storms and monsters and ancient power. Very few understood that life usually returned slowly. One root, one leaf, one stubborn beginning at a time. The warmth beneath my palms deepened suddenly then, from below the sapling. I frowned faintly and pressed my hand deeper into the soil, stone. Buried beneath layers of earth and roots. Something carved. Garrick noticed my expression immediately.

"What is it?"

"There's something under the garden," I said quietly. Garrick closed his eyes briefly like a deeply tired man reconsidering his career choices.

"That sentence has never improved a situation in history." Carefully, I brushed dirt aside near the sapling's roots until pale grey stone emerged beneath the soil. Smooth. Worn with age. Thin lines carved faintly across its surface beneath years of neglect. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Aibell leaned closer carefully.

"Is that writing?"

"No." I brushed more soil away slowly. The shape revealed itself piece by piece beneath the dirt, a symbol. A circle split by branching lines in the shape of roots. My breath caught slightly. Garrick frowned near the gate.

"You recognize it."

"Yes." Aibell looked toward me immediately.

"From your grove?"

"No," I replied quietly. That unsettled me more because the symbol belonged to older groves. The first circles, ancient even before Elarion existed. The realization sent cold unease quietly through the warmth spreading beneath my ribs. This garden had not simply been abandoned. It had been forgotten purposely or due to loss, is something I am still not sure of. Aibell crouched beside the exposed stone while Garrick remained near the rusted gate with his arms folded tightly across his chest.

"You recognize it," Aibell said quietly. I nodded once as I brushed more dirt away from the carving.

"The mark belonged to the First Circles."

"That sounds important," Garrick muttered.

"It is." He waited for further explanation. When none came, he sighed heavily.

"You really do treat answers like expensive currency."

"Experience taught me moderation."

"That sentence annoyed me long enough." Fair enough. I rested my palm fully against the stone, warmth answered immediately beneath the earth. The feeling traveled upward through my arm and settled heavily in my chest. It felt old, worn thin with time, but still alive beneath the ruined garden. I closed my eyes instinctively and let myself follow the sensation deeper. The remnants of a grove still lingered here only faint traces, ancient roots buried beneath stone and soil.

Old pathways where life had once gathered and grown strong before the place had been abandoned or hidden. The sapling beside me responded almost immediately. Its roots spread deeper through the loosened soil while pale green light shimmered faintly beneath the bark. Aibell leaned closer.

"Kaelen?"

"The grove remembers this place," I said quietly. That answer seemed to unsettle Garrick considerably.

"I'm becoming less comfortable every minute."

"You've handled this remarkably well so far."

"I'm a professional." The ancient warmth beneath the stone pulsed again while cracks slowly spread across the carved symbol under my hand. Something shifted beneath the center of the circle. I frowned slightly and brushed more soil away. Seven small seeds rested inside the hollow space beneath the carving. Aibell inhaled softly beside me.

"What are those?" I carefully lifted one into my hand. Its shell carried thin silver veins beneath layers of dust and age, and despite how old it should have been, warmth still lingered inside it.

"Heartwood seeds," I said quietly. Even Garrick recognized the weight in my voice then.

"You thought they were gone."

"So did everyone else." The realization settled heavily over me while I stared at the seeds resting in my palm. Whoever had hidden them here had intended this place to survive long after the grove above it disappeared. Nemain pulsed sharply against my side. The reaction was immediate and violent enough that Aibell looked toward the sword at once.

"It really hates this," she murmured.

"Yes." The whisper crawled faintly through the back of my thoughts, restless and angry, but it sounded distant now compared to the warmth rising through the garden. I ignored it and pressed the seeds gently into the awakened soil surrounding the sapling. The garden answered slowly at first. Then roots stirred beneath the earth. Tiny green shoots pushed carefully through the dark soil near the heart tree while the vines climbing the old walls brightened with fresh color.

Moss spread through the cracks in the ruined stone paths, and somewhere deeper beneath the garden, I felt ancient roots shifting for the first time in centuries. Aibell stared openly now as the garden changed around us.

"They're growing already."

"The grove is feeding them," I replied. Garrick looked around uneasily while fresh leaves slowly unfurled across the nearest vines.

"How visible is this going to become?" I glanced toward the spreading roots beneath the soil and answered honestly.

"Very." That silence carried more concern than surprise. The grove wanted to grow. I could feel it clearly now. The old foundation beneath the garden had awakened fully, and the heart tree was drawing strength from it faster with every passing moment. I rose slowly from the soil, but exhaustion hit hard enough that my balance shifted briefly beneath me. Aibell caught my arm immediately.

"Easy."

"I'm fine," I muttered.

"You look terrible," she replied.

"That assessment lacks optimism."

"It lacks blindness," Aibell replied flatly. Garrick stepped closer while studying both the growing garden and the spreading roots beneath the stone.

"What happens now?" I looked back toward the heart tree. It already stood taller than before, its silver-green branches stretching slowly upward while new leaves continued opening along the limbs. The seven buried seeds had begun taking root around it, forming the first threads of what would eventually become a network.

"It needs time," I said quietly.

"And energy." Aibell frowned slightly.

"What does that mean?"

"It means the grove is still unstable. If I stop now, it may die before the roots settle properly." Garrick's expression darkened.

"How long?"

"A few days." That answer earned another silence. The wind moved softly through the garden while fresh leaves rustled faintly overhead. Aibell looked toward me carefully.

"You're planning to stay here the entire time."

"Yes."

"With that sword?" Garrick asked.

"The grove weakens its influence while I remain connected to it," I explained.

"If I leave too early, I risk damaging both."

"That's somehow the least reassuring thing you've said today."

"I've had a busy morning." Neither of them looked amused. I rested one hand lightly against the young heart tree beside me. Warmth answered immediately through the bark beneath my palm, steady and alive in ways I had not felt since Elarion burned. For the first time in years, something connected to the grove still existed in the world. And this time, I intended to protect it.