Chapter 14 — Roots of the Past

The forest trembled.

Kael stood before the barrier of living vines, their thorns dripping with mist and mana. The elders’ voices echoed through the clearing, cold and final.

“You are forbidden to enter. The humans broke their promise. None of your kind may step foot in our sacred lands again.”

The vines twisted higher, sealing the way completely. Lyren’s eyes shimmered with helplessness.

“I thought they might still listen…” she whispered.

Before Kael could answer, her knees buckled. He caught her as she collapsed, her skin pale and trembling.

Dark veins snaked up her neck — black lines pulsing faintly as if alive. The air thickened with miasma, foul and cold.

“Lyren?” Kael’s voice hardened. “Damn it—”

The corruption seeped out of her, curling like smoke. Kael adjusted his grip, glaring at the vines before them.

He hated doing extra work. He hated using too much power. But watching her like this stirred something deeper than his usual laziness.

“You’re in my way,” he muttered.

Frost burst beneath his feet.

A wave of freezing air tore through the clearing, coating the vines in glimmering ice. The barrier cracked, shrieking as it froze solid. Kael pressed forward, every step heavy, every breath white with frost.

The forest resisted — roots surged, branches struck, and vines lashed like serpents. Kael’s eyes sharpened, cold and focused. His body blurred through the storm of thorns, carrying Lyren close to his chest.

“You can hate me later,” he muttered, “but you’re not dying here.”

His magic flared brighter — trails of frost following his movements, ice blooming wherever his boots touched.

He had never used this much before. Not since the memories he couldn’t recall.

And then—

A figure appeared before him.

She stepped out of the mist barefoot, her hair like pale birch leaves, her skin softly glowing with emerald light. The vines halted instantly, bending away from her presence. Her eyes — ancient, deep, and green as the oldest moss — fixed upon Kael.

A Dryad.

Kael tensed, shifting his stance slightly, ready for anything.

The Dryad ignored him and looked at Lyren.

She stepped closer — her aura calm but commanding — and placed her hand gently on Lyren’s chest. The miasma hissed and recoiled. The black veins faded slightly, though not completely.

Kael blinked, lowering his guard just enough. “…You’re helping her?”

The Dryad’s voice was soft as wind through leaves.

“She carries a curse not of this world. The forest remembers her… but it mourns her too.”

Kael exhaled, the frost on his arms dimming. The vines stopped moving, the forest itself falling into silence.

“Follow me,” the Dryad said. “The elders must answer for what they’ve done.”

⸻

The Elven Village

The Dryad led Kael through glowing trees into a vast clearing where the elven village stood — elegant homes woven from living wood, glowing faintly with mana light. When Kael stepped into view, whispers rippled through the crowd.

A human… carrying an elf.

He ignored the stares, his only focus on Lyren’s fading breath. The Dryad guided him to a massive ancient tree at the heart of the forest, its trunk wide enough to hold a castle. Within, vines formed natural walls that shimmered with green light.

“Lay her here,” the Dryad said.

Kael lowered Lyren onto a bed of moss, placing a pillow beneath her head. He turned as footsteps approached — a group of elders entering the chamber, faces stern and composed.

The Dryad faced them, her tone soft but sharp.

“You refused her. You denied the exiled child of your own forest. Explain yourselves.”

An elder spoke, his voice trembling slightly.

“She broke our laws. She brought humans where none were allowed. The forest’s will—”

“Silence.”

The word echoed like a gust of divine wind.

Two more Dryads stepped into the chamber, joining their sister — three figures radiant and distinct: one calm and nurturing, one fierce as a storm, one quiet as the roots below.

The elves bowed deeply. The Dryads did not. They were the forest’s voice — minor deities who ruled beside the council, not beneath it.

The first Dryad stepped forward. “You cast out your own princess.”

The elders stiffened, some lowering their eyes.

They did not look surprised. They already knew.

The Dryad’s voice grew cold. “You knew she carried royal blood. You knew she was the last daughter of your High Matriarch. And still, you turned your backs.”

Another elder spoke weakly, “Her actions endangered the balance—”

“Her actions saved lives,” the second Dryad cut in. “She helped the humans when your pride forbade it. And for that, she was punished.”

The chamber doors creaked open.

A woman entered — tall, graceful, and calm. Her hair shimmered like white gold, her eyes deep emerald. The Head of the Council of Elves. Though she looked young, her presence carried the weight of centuries.

“Enough,” she said quietly.

The elders fell silent.

Her gaze swept over the room, then to Kael, then down to Lyren. Something faint and sorrowful crossed her expression. “The forest told me you had returned, child.”

Kael’s eyes narrowed. “Returned? She’s barely alive.”

The elder’s eyes met his. “We did what we thought necessary to protect our people.”

Kael’s mana stirred — frost crawling over the floor, air turning sharp.

“Protect?” His voice was low, controlled, dangerous. “You protected yourselves. That’s all.”

The Dryads glanced at one another — tension thick in the air. One of them stepped closer to Kael, placing a delicate hand on his arm.

“Enough,” she said softly.

Her touch was cool, calming — like the breath of the forest itself. The frost halted mid-spread. Kael exhaled through his teeth, forcing his rage down. “Fine.”

The first Dryad turned back to the council.

“Prepare the rites. Sylwen’s Bloom will awaken again. The forest must judge whether she is to be forgiven — or reclaimed.”

The Head of the Council nodded slowly, sorrow shadowing her composure. “So be it.”

Kael sat beside Lyren, watching the faint rise and fall of her chest.

“You’d better wake up soon,” he murmured. “I didn’t just freeze half your forest for nothing.”

The Dryad nearest him smiled faintly. “You carry an echo of something old, human. The forest feels it.”

Kael looked up lazily. “If it’s trouble, that’s about right.”

She chuckled softly. “Perhaps. But not all trouble is born evil.”

Kael leaned back, resting his head against the tree wall. As he exhaled, something flickered behind his eyes — faint, fragmented.

A cold room.

A circle drawn in blood.

Voices whispering.

“He’s stabilizing… The vessel holds…”

“No, his mana output’s too high—!”

“Contain him—!”

Then — a man with dark brown hair reaching out to him, shouting his name through the chaos.

“Kael, run—!”

The image shattered. Kael blinked, the memory gone as quickly as it came.

He sighed. “…Weird dream,” he muttered, half to himself.

Outside, the forest whispered again — the vines stirring with life.

Something ancient had awakened.

And this time, it wasn’t just watching.