The Seed of Legacy

The day after Riven’s return, the team gathered on the Sky Terrace of League Tower. Sunlight danced across the pristine greens below, the air calm, almost sacred. Riven stood among them, staff in hand, but the eyes of the team kept drifting elsewhere — to Zari.

She stood at the edge, her hands resting lightly on the railing, eyes closed, as if listening to something beyond hearing.

Mike stepped up beside her. “You’ve been quiet since we sealed the Corruptor.”

“I’ve been hearing… things,” Zari murmured. “Since that final putt. The greens whisper to me now — not just here, but everywhere. Even in my dreams.”

“Whispers?” Nova asked, approaching with arms crossed. “Like what?”

Zari turned, her eyes glowing faintly green. “A name. Again and again.”

The team leaned in.

“Verdara.”

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Later that night, Zari wandered the Hall of Roots — the Tower’s lowest chamber. Few entered here. The roots of the League Tree twisted through this place, ancient and humming with unseen life.

She touched the stone slab that bore her family name: Zari Elen’tael. Below it, a faint glyph had begun to glow — one she had never noticed before.

A vine slithered out from beneath the floor and curled around her wrist — not threatening, but guiding.

With a pulse, the glyph split open like a seed pod.

A hidden door revealed itself.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Inside was a garden like no other — a hidden sanctum, untouched by time. Floating flowers bloomed midair. Greens twisted into shapes not bound by physics. In the center, on a pedestal of woven branches, rested a glowing orb of grass and light.

She reached out.

Images exploded in her mind.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

She saw her ancestors — the First Gardeners. Not warriors. Not champions. Caretakers. They hadn’t forged the game. They’d nurtured it, shaped the greens with song and patience.

And at the heart of it all was Verdara — the original realm. The birthplace of the Game. A place of wild greens and living fairways, untouched by rules, where play had been pure instinct.

But something had happened.

Verdara had vanished, sealed away after a betrayal.

And the key to unlocking it… was in Zari’s blood.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Zari gathered the team the next morning.

“I know where we need to go,” she said. “And I need your help to get there.”

She led them to a place most had forgotten — The Obsidian Wedge, an ancient, abandoned course that bent through mountain and shadow.

At its center was a dormant portal — a green so warped it never ended, looping in on itself. A course with no flag.

Zari stepped forward and knelt, placing the orb from the hidden sanctum onto the tee box.

The earth trembled.

The greens reshaped themselves — rising, spiraling, folding into a massive gate of woven turf and light.

On the other side, they saw glimpses of a realm not touched by this world — vines curling through sky, trees shaped like spirals, greens floating through clouds.

Verdara had awoken.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

The team stepped through.

Instantly, they felt it — the rawness of the realm. There were no holes here, no cups or flags. Just an endless flow of living, breathing green, and a sense that something watched.

Clunk beeped nervously. “Environment lacks regulation. Detection systems… overwhelmed.”

Mira’s echoes flickered in and out. “It’s like the course is shifting around us.”

“It is,” Zari said. “This isn’t a place to beat. It’s a place to understand.”

Suddenly, the terrain beneath them moved — a massive green serpentine fairway uncoiling like a living dragon. It invited them.

Mike raised his club. “Well… let’s play.”

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

They didn’t play against Verdara.

They played with it.

Shots arced across moving terrain. Nova lifted them over canyons where waterfalls ran upward. Flix and Jax synchronized their swings, creating harmonic vibrations that calmed turbulent sandstorms.

Riven’s staff glowed brighter with each strike — sensing the balance of old and new power.

But it was Zari who truly led.

She didn’t play to move forward. She played to grow the course itself. Her shots didn’t just land — they bloomed, awakening flowers, reshaping hazards into bridges, turning obstacles into paths.

The realm responded.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

But not all within Verdara welcomed them.

In the tenth hour of play, a ripple cut through the greens. From the heart of the realm, dark vines shot up, twisting into humanoid shapes.

The Thornbound.

Creatures of rot and resentment, twisted echoes of Gardeners who had refused to let go of control. They had tried to cage Verdara in form and rule — and been consumed.

“Your blood opened the gate,” one hissed to Zari. “Now you will kneel before the forgotten roots.”

They attacked, warping the realm around them, turning greens into traps and shadows.

The team scattered.

Nova fought with swirling forcefields. Mira split into ten, confusing the attackers. Clunk transformed into a spinning mower of mayhem.

But the Thornbound were relentless — feeding off every moment of doubt.

Riven stepped forward, raising his staff.

“I know corruption,” he shouted. “You can’t twist what’s already come clean.”

He slammed the staff into the green — and a burst of radiant energy pulsed outward, stunning the creatures.

Zari didn’t hesitate.

She dropped her club, stepped barefoot onto the living turf, and knelt.

“I’m not here to control,” she whispered. “I’m here to listen.”

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

The greens pulsed.

The Thornbound froze.

Vines recoiled.

And then — from the sky — came a sound like the ringing of a cosmic bell.

The realm recognized her.