THE WHISPERING ROOTS

The first thing that struck me was the warmth. Not the kind you get from the sun, but something softer, more humid, and alive, like the gentle breath of a sleeping creature.

I shifted slightly, wincing as a reminder of the tragedy I had endured shot through my side. The wound was no longer there.

I ran my fingers along my ribs, where the blade had once slipped between the bones, and all I felt was smooth skin beneath my touch.

The ceiling above me shimmered softly, with delicate veins of pale green light weaving through root-like strands. The room was circular, its walls entirely crafted from intertwined roots and bark, pulsing gently like a heartbeat.

I sat up, taking my time.

Tsarra was there, arms crossed, casually leaning against the curved wall. Next to her, on a low platform that seemed to grow from the wood itself, sat a bowl of steaming broth.

"You heal quickly," she remarked, her tone a mix of mild surprise and indifference.

I blinked away the haze clouding my vision. "How long was I out?"

"Two days. Honestly, I was surprised you were awake when I healed you."

I reached for the bowl, and Tsarra didn't stop me. The aroma was a blend of earthy herbs with a hint of sweetness.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"Don't mention it," she shot back, her tone flat. "Liora's the one who kept you from being tossed into the Hollow's spine."

I took a sip and almost choked. She grinned.

"An acquired taste."

I glanced around, taking in the room around me. Everything felt alive not just in a metaphorical sense, but genuinely. The roots seemed to shift slightly under my feet, almost as if they were responding to me.

"What is this place?" he asked.

Tsarra shrugged. "Home. At least for some of us. You probably won't get it just yet."

I studied her closely. Her eyes were distant, unfocused, yet somehow alert. It was the stillness of a fighter.

"What did you do to me? That green light... it didn't feel like magic."

She pushed off the wall and started toward the exit. "It's called Root Weaving. The Hollow heals what it wants. I just help it listen."

I stood up unsteadily. "Wait. I don't understand can I get a better explanation."

Tsarra stopped. " What's with the questions, your tone of talking is old."

"I'm sorry."

"Forget it anyway I was ordered to take you somewhere or a tour so let's go."

"Okay."

She's my age but she talks with a cold voice, I wonder what happened to her for her to act like this.

Following her through a narrow corridor of twisted vines. She would explain everything I wanted to know, and because I was arrogant when it became to questions she gave up on me.

Small lights pulsed within the walls, casting shifting shadows. We passed by villagers

Some stared. Others looked away.

"They don't trust me."

"They don't trust anyone," Tsarra replied. "Especially not someone who's from the outside."

I raised an eyebrow. " What does that mean I thought Liora said that everyone was from the outside."

" Yea your right but did you not see the mountain of corpses outside before entering."

I nodded in return.

"Apparently it was rumored that those bodies are from the heavens after getting their royal judgment."

"Royal judgment?"

"Yes, with that came the birth of the corpse beats created from the dead bodies."

"What about the dead animals?"

"I don't know maybe the same fate or just offerings who knows?"

"Tsarra do you believe in those rumors."

She stopped walking and gave me a glance. Then without notice she gave me a smile and said, "Nope not even a little who would listen to such crap."

Did she just curse, at five years old this place might have changed her. Will I suffer the same fate.

We stepped into a spacious chamber a gathering hall. Towering natural columns of thick roots stretched up to the dome above, where light streamed in from an unseen source.

In the center stood a man.

He was older than me, taller too. His skin bore mottled patterns reminiscent of lichen, and his white hair was neatly pulled back into a single braid. Though his eyes were obscured by bark-like growths, he turned toward me with the precision of someone who didn't rely on sight.

"So," the man said, his voice rustling like dry leaves. " Who might this be?"

Tsarra offered a slight bow. "Master Varun. This is Zeraius. The one miss Liora helped on the brink of death,"

"Helped?," Varun repeated, tilting his head thoughtfully. Then he gave a slight chuckle. " You must the outsider that I hear of."

I remained quiet.

Varun stepped closer, reaching out to place a hand gently against my chest. His palm vibrated with energy.

"Not one of us," he murmured. "But not entirely foreign either. Intriguing."

"Miss Liora asked that he learns along side me," Tsarra interjected.

"Did she now?"

I met the old man's covered gaze. Even thought I did not like the Idea but atleast I have to know of the place that saved me maybe I will know about the strange powers of this tree they speak off.

Varun offered a faint smile. "Then start with silence. The Hollow doesn't respond to noise. At dawn, you will sit at the Root of Stillness. If you can endure, you may stay. If not... the Hollow will make its choice."

I nodded in agreement.

"I will do my best."

Varun turned away. "Let him rest. Tomorrow, we'll discover what breaks him."