Chương 6: Chapter 8: The Heartwood Awakens- Part I

The first night inside the garden passed slowly. The grove did not resist me but it remembered too much. I sat beneath the growing heart tree with one hand resting against the roots while the old foundation beneath the garden continued waking around me. The seven buried seeds had already begun sprouting through the awakened soil surrounding the central tree, their roots spreading carefully through ancient channels hidden beneath the district.

The grove was feeding from what remained of the First Circle beneath Fallowspire and in return, it was feeding me. The sensation still felt unfamiliar after so many years carrying only Nemain's presence inside my thoughts. The sword remained at my side beneath the tree, wrapped tightly in cloth and resting against the old stone marker where the seeds had been hidden. It hated this place. I could feel the irritation pulsing steadily from the blade every time the roots deepened or another branch unfurled overhead.

Good. The garden had changed considerably by dawn. The ruined stone paths remained visible in places, but moss and fresh vines had begun reclaiming them rapidly beneath the spreading roots. The dead thornbushes surrounding the walls now carried green shoots along their branches, and pale silver leaves rustled softly overhead where the heart tree stretched wider through the morning light. Not large enough to form a true canopy yet but growing faster than any natural forest ever could.

I leaned back carefully against the exposed roots near the center of the grove while exhaustion dragged heavily through my limbs. The awakening had taken more strength than I expected. Every pulse of growth demanded energy in return, and the grove drew it through the connection forming steadily between us, sharing. Nemain disagreed with what I was doing. The whisper crawled faintly through the back of my thoughts while dawnlight filtered through the growing branches overhead. Weaaak… Drraaaining… Leeeave…

I ignored it and pressed my palm more firmly against the roots beneath me, once more warmth answered immediately. The grove no longer felt like a mere collection of trees. It felt aware in the same quiet way old forests often did. Not conscious in the way most people imagined, but connected deeply enough that intention and instinct blurred together beneath the roots. The First Circle remnants beneath the garden strengthened that feeling further.

I still did not understand why they had hidden heartwood seeds here beneath Fallowspire centuries ago. Perhaps the grove had once stood openly before kingdoms pushed druidic circles deeper into the wilds. Or perhaps someone had simply refused to let the old ways disappear entirely. Either way, the grove had survived, barely. A soft crack echoed nearby, I opened my eyes immediately. One of the seven saplings had split fully through its shell during the night.

Thin silver-green roots spread through the soil beneath it while the first pale leaves slowly unfolded toward the morning light filtering across the garden. Then another answered nearby and another. The grove was accelerating. I rose slowly despite the ache pulling through my body and stepped toward the nearest sapling. The soil beneath my boots already felt different compared to the dead ground surrounding the outer district beyond the walls.

It felt softer and alive, rich with energy rising through the old root network. The heartwood trees fed one another as they grew. That was the true strength of a grove, connection. The seven saplings had already begun forming it beneath the soil. I crouched beside one of the younger shoots and brushed dirt gently away from its roots. Tiny strands had already intertwined with the larger heart tree at the center of the garden. That was fast, faster than they should have.

The old grove beneath the city was still carrying more strength than I realized. That possibility brought both relief and concern. Because if the First Circle remnants had survived this long beneath Fallowspire, something else may have sensed them too. The corruption spreading beyond the walls did not move randomly. It must have followed old power, forgotten places and in that it must have found weakness. But now the grove was awake again. Nemain pulsed sharply beside the stone marker, in a warning.

I straightened immediately and listened. At first, I heard only the city beyond the walls waking for morning; distant wagon wheels; voices drifting faintly across the eastern district. Somewhere beyond the garden, metal clanged against stone as guards changed shifts along the walls. Then the grove answered. A subtle tremor passed through the roots beneath my feet. Something had touched the outer edge of the district. I rested one hand against the nearest sapling and closed my eyes briefly.

Through the awakened roots spreading beneath the garden, I could feel the corruption lingering near the edges of the eastern district. The sensation moved faintly through the soil like stagnant water pressing against weakened stone, searching for a way inward. Much too close for my liking. The grove reacted immediately. The roots tightened deeper beneath the earth while the young branches overhead rustled softly despite the still morning air.

The response carried an instinctive protectiveness that felt ancient and immediate, as though the grove had recognized a threat long before understanding what it truly was. A faint smile crept onto my face before I noticed it. Nemain noticed too. The sword pulsed irritably from where it rested wrapped in cloth beside the stone marker near the heart tree.

"You'll survive," I muttered toward it. The whisper answering through the back of my thoughts sounded deeply unconvinced. I ignored it and focused again on the grove spreading around me. The seven saplings had grown noticeably through the night. Their roots already intertwined beneath the soil while pale silver-green bark brightened softly whenever the old foundation beneath the garden pulsed with energy.

The canopy had started forming overhead as the branches stretched gradually toward one another, weaving scattered patches of shade across the ruined paths. The abandoned garden no longer felt abandoned. Life reclaimed spaces quickly once it found room to grow. I crouched beside the central heart tree and rested both hands against the roots surrounding its base. Warmth spread steadily through my chest as the connection deepened again.

Through the grove, I could sense water moving beneath the district, buried stone beneath old streets, and the steady pulse of the seven young heartwoods feeding one another through the shared root network. I could also feel the strain settling into my own body. The grove demanded energy while it stabilized, and most of that energy flowed through me. My muscles ached from the constant drain, though the exhaustion felt cleaner than the hollow fatigue I had carried since Blackthorn.

At least this weariness built something. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

"You're demanding," I murmured quietly. The leaves overhead rustled in answer. By midday, the garden had changed enough that even Garrick probably would have struggled to recognize it. Vines climbed thick across the old walls while moss spread over the cracked stone paths beneath the forming canopy. The seven saplings now stood nearly waist-high around the central tree, connected beneath the soil through roots that thickened with every passing hour.

The growth would slow once the grove settled fully into the old foundation beneath the city. For now, the remnants of the First Circle still carried enough strength to sustain the awakening. A knock sounded softly against the rusted gate. I opened my eyes to find Aibell standing near the entrance with a satchel slung over one shoulder. She stared at the garden for several moments before finally speaking.

"You were gone one day."

"I've had productive morning," I replied.

"That's not a garden anymore." She stepped carefully inside while looking upward through the silver-green branches spreading overhead. Sunlight filtered through the forming canopy in scattered patterns that shifted gently with the leaves.

"Garrick thinks half the eastern district is going to start worshipping trees before the end of the week," she said.

"That feels optimistic," I replied. Aibell glanced toward the spreading canopy overhead.

"He sounded concerned."

"That sounds more accurate," I muttered. Aibell stopped beside one of the nearest saplings and rested her fingers lightly against the bark. Her expression changed almost immediately afterward.

"You can feel it," I said.

"A little," she admitted quietly.

"It feels warm." The grove responded softly around her. Leaves stirred overhead while the roots beneath the soil shifted faintly through the earth, interesting. I studied the reaction for a moment before shaking my head.

"The grove seems curious about you." Aibell slowly lowered her hand from the sapling.

"That sentence should probably worry me."

"It mostly means you're tolerated."

"That's comforting in a deeply unsettling way," she muttered. Aibell crossed the garden toward the heart tree and lowered the satchel beside the roots near me.

"Merrow threatened Garrick when nobody checked whether you were still alive."

"Thoughtful," I replied. Aibell opened the satchel and handed me a wrapped loaf along with a small flask.

"She also sent food."

"That's significantly more thoughtful." Aibell settled beside the roots and looked around the grove again while the branches overhead continued weaving slowly together.

"It's beautiful," she said quietly. The words settled heavily in my chest because I had spent so many years remembering groves only through fire and ruin that I had forgotten what they felt like while alive. The air beneath the forming canopy carried warmth and quiet that the rest of the city seemed unable to reach. The heartwood leaves rustled softly overhead while sunlight filtered through silver-green branches that continued stretching toward one another.

For the first time since Elarion burned, the memory of a grove no longer ended with ash. Aibell remained beside the roots for a while after speaking, her eyes drifting repeatedly toward the canopy overhead as though she still expected the grove to vanish the moment she looked away. I understood the feeling. The heartwood branches, now taller than me, continued weaving slowly together above us while sunlight filtered through layers of silver-green leaves that had not existed a few days ago.

The abandoned garden Garrick first brought me to had almost disappeared beneath new growth. Moss spread across the old stone paths, vines climbed the walls in thick curtains, and the seven young heartwoods stood connected through roots that now stretched far beyond the garden itself. The grove was settling into the city. That thought carried equal parts comfort and concern. Aibell eventually glanced back toward me.

"You've barely slept, haven't you?"

"Technically inaccurate," I replied. Aibell folded her arms loosely across her knees.

"That answer immediately makes me think you haven't slept at all."

"I closed my eyes several times."

"That isn't how rest works."

"I disagree."

"You would," she muttered. I unwrapped the loaf Merrow had sent and tore off a smaller piece while Aibell continued studying the grove around us with open fascination.

"The district already feels different," she said after a while.

"Quieter."

"The grove dampens things," I replied. Aibell raised an eyebrow faintly.

"That sounds ominous."

"It's mostly environmental." She stared at me for a moment.

"That somehow explained nothing." I considered elaborating, decided against it, and ate in silence for a few moments instead. The truth was difficult to explain properly unless someone had spent time inside a living grove before. According to the stories, heartwoods changed the spaces around them gradually, noise softened beneath the canopy, air cooled during heat and held warmth longer during rain, animals grew calmer, soil strengthened, water carried fewer impurities.

Over time, even people unconsciously adjusted their voices after entering. The old groves were never built as fortresses. They simply became places where the world settled differently. Aibell rested her arms against her knees while watching the branches overhead sway gently.

"It feels safe here." The words landed harder than she probably intended because I realized, after a moment, that I agreed. The corruption still moved beyond the city. Nemain still whispered from beside the roots whenever the grove grew too quickly. Something still searched for me somewhere beyond the valley. But now safety no longer felt impossible. The grove answered faintly to the thought. Leaves rustled overhead while warmth pulsed softly through the roots beneath the soil.

Aibell noticed my expression shift slightly.

"You can actually hear it, can't you?"

"In a way." Aibell adjusted slightly against the roots beside her.

"What does it say?" I rested my hand lightly against one of the exposed roots before answering.

"It doesn't really use words." Aibell frowned faintly.

"That sounds inconvenient."

"It's mostly impressions. Instincts." I paused briefly.

"The grove knows the city is wounded." Aibell frowned slightly at that.

"Because of the corruption?"

"Yes. But not only that." The eastern district alone carried enough neglect to make the point obvious. Half-abandoned homes. Broken roads left unrepaired. Families pushed closer to the walls while wealth gathered deeper within the safer districts. Cities wounded themselves long before monsters arrived.

"The grove wants to protect it," I said quietly. Aibell looked around the garden again after that.

"Can trees even want things?"

"Yes," I replied.

"That answer came disturbingly fast."

"I grew up around forests that argued with people." Aibell stared at me flatly for a moment.

"That feels medically concerning."

"Probably," I admitted. Aibell laughed softly beneath her breath and leaned back against the roots beside the heart tree. The sound blended strangely well with the grove around us, peaceful. I had almost forgotten what peaceful sounded like when it lasted longer than a few minutes. The realization lingered quietly while afternoon light shifted gradually through the canopy overhead. Then the grove stirred sharply beneath my hand in awareness.

I straightened slightly as the roots beneath the garden pulsed once through the soil surrounding the eastern district. Someone approached the outer gate and it is more than one person. Aibell noticed the shift in my posture immediately.

"What is it?"

"The grove felt movement near the entrance," I replied quietly. Aibell frowned faintly.

"That's either deeply useful or deeply unsettling."

"Yes." Footsteps sounded faintly beyond the vines covering the ruined walls a few moments later, followed by Garrick's familiar voice somewhere near the rusted gate.

"Before anyone complains," he announced loudly, "this was not my idea." Aibell blinked once.

"That sentence never brings good news."