"You," Gugwe-mok rasped, voice layered with wet bark and wind. "I thought your kind stayed hidden in stone."
Aestros didn't answer at first.
He stood still, towering, unmoving, a statue sculpted from broken foundation and burning will. The red lines pulsing along his arms and chest cast flickering light across the field of ruin.
His voice came low. Measured. Like the grind of bedrock beneath the earth.
"I've watched long enough."
Gugwe-mok snarled. Its limbs twisted, coiling and flexing against the hands that pinned it, but the stone would not yield. "Then you should have stayed buried."
"You should have stayed in root," Aestros replied. "But here we are."
The forest-beast let out a hiss, low and cold. "You don't understand. I didn't want this. I didn't choose destruction."
"You chose survival through it," Aestros said. "There is no difference."
A pause.
A gust of wind tugged at the scorched vines hanging loose from Gugwe-mok's body.
