The heartbeat beneath their feet shook loose pebbles from the cavern walls. Lin Moyan braced himself against the trembling stone, his root-woven arm pulsing in time with the ominous rhythm. The golden light beneath his skin had intensified until his veins looked like molten metal beneath parchment. Each throb sent jagged shadows dancing across the ancient carvings that spiraled down the tunnel walls - images of great trees and kneeling figures, of roots drinking deep from black pools.
Jian Luo wiped black ichor from his claws, his amber eyes reflecting the eerie glow of the root-beings clustered around them. "So we're just going to stand here until the giant underground monster decides to—"
The ground lurched violently, cutting him off mid-sentence. A shower of dirt and small stones rained down from the cavern ceiling as the fissure before them widened another finger's breadth.
Haiyu's fingers moved in sharp, urgent signs. "Not monster. Gardener." She pointed to the small root-creatures who had gone completely still, their tendril hands pressed flat against the stone floor. "They're waiting for permission."
Moyan's breath came in short gasps as another pulse reverberated through the cavern. This time, the vibration carried meaning - a single word that echoed through his bones like the tolling of some great bell:
*Come.*
Not an invitation. A summons written in his very blood.
His boots scraped against loose stone as he took an involuntary step toward the yawning fissure. The blackness beyond seemed to breathe, exhaling air that smelled of wet stone and something far older - the scent of deep earth undisturbed for centuries.
Jian Luo's clawed hand clamped down on his shoulder with enough force to draw blood. "You can't be serious." His voice had lost its usual mocking edge, replaced by something raw and unfamiliar. "That thing down there just called you like a dog to its master."
Moyan shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's not like that. The roots...they remember something." He pressed a hand to his chest where the seed had embedded itself, feeling the unnatural pulse beneath his fingertips. "Something we've all forgotten."
Haiyu stepped between them, her transformed wrist glowing faintly as the vines beneath her skin writhed in response to the underground pulse. Her fingers moved deliberately: *We follow the small ones or we die here. The way back is already gone.*
As if summoned by her words, the root-beings began moving toward the fissure in perfect unison. Their silver glow illuminated the jagged path downward, revealing handholds worn smooth by countless passages - too regular, too precise to be natural formations.
Jian Luo bared his teeth, the amber glow in his eyes flickering like a guttering candle. "Fine. But when this goes to hell—"
"It already has," Moyan interrupted. He turned toward the fissure, his enhanced vision picking out details in the darkness - symbols carved beside each handhold, their meanings lost to time. "That's why we're here. To fix what broke long before we were born."
The descent was easier than it should have been. The spiral grooves in the rock fit his fingers perfectly, as if carved for this exact purpose. Above them, the root-beings moved with eerie grace, their tendril feet finding purchase where no human could climb.
Deeper they went.
The air grew thick and heavy, tasting of minerals and something faintly sweet - like sap from a tree long dead. The heartbeat grew louder until Moyan felt it in his teeth, in the roots woven through his bones, a rhythm older than memory.
Then—
The tunnel opened abruptly into a cavern so vast its ceiling vanished into darkness. The root-beings fanned out along a narrow ledge, their combined glow illuminating only fragments of the space below.
Jian Luo sucked in a sharp breath. "Well. That's...unexpected."
The cavern floor was a living tapestry of roots - thick, ancient cords pulsing with golden light, woven into intricate patterns that formed concentric circles around a central pool of black water. And at its edge...
A throne.
Not carved but grown, its living wood twisted into the shape of a seat meant for something far larger than a man. The arms ended in curling tendrils that twitched occasionally, as if dreaming.
Empty.
For now.
The black pool stirred.
First ripples, then waves as something massive rose from its depths. The root-beings fell to their knees in unison, their tendril hands pressed flat against stone in obvious reverence. The heartbeat sound intensified until Moyan's vision blurred with each pulse.
Moyan's pulse hammered in his throat as the water parted.
The Gardener emerged slowly, water cascading from a form composed of roots so ancient they had turned black with time. Silver flowers bloomed along its limbs, their petals opening and closing in time with the cavern's pulse. Where a face should have been, only smooth bark and a single vertical slit glowed with golden light.
Jian Luo took an involuntary step back, his claws scraping against stone. "Okay. That's...significantly larger than I was imagining."
The Gardener turned its faceless gaze toward them, and Moyan's world exploded in pain.
The roots in his chest writhed as knowledge flooded his mind—unfiltered, unbearable truth:
The Verdant Abyss had never been meant for humans.
The great trees had once touched the sky, their roots drinking from deep wells of power.
The Wardens were never guardians.
They were a corruption.
A mistake that had festered for generations.
Haiyu gasped as her wrist vines went rigid, pointing toward the Gardener like compass needles finding true north. Jian Luo's transformation reversed before their eyes—his claws retracting, the webbing between his fingers receding—as if the Gardener's presence undid the changes forced upon him by the false Wardens.
Moyan tried to speak.
Couldn't.
The Gardener raised one massive hand, and the roots in Moyan's body locked him in place. The golden slit where its face should be pulsed brighter, and a voice that wasn't a voice vibrated through the cavern:
*You carry the mark of the intruders.*
The accusation burned worse than the roots twisting through his flesh. The seed in Moyan's chest convulsed violently, its own voice rising in protest:
*We were meant to tend!*
The Gardener's response was a single pulse of golden light. The cavern's roots blazed to life, their glow intensifying until the entire space shone like daylight.
Images formed in the air between them, painted in light and shadow:
The original Gardeners moving through vast forests, their root-woven hands coaxing mighty trees toward the sun.
Humans coming with silver seeds and hungry blades, their eyes bright with stolen knowledge.
The first Warden kneeling before the great trees, always kneeling, as something precious was taken and twisted.
Jian Luo staggered as the visions struck him. "That's...that can't be right." His voice broke on the last word. "The Sect taught us—"
Haiyu's hands trembled as she signed: *The roots remember truth. The Wardens were thieves.*
Moyan's knees hit stone. The pain in his chest was unbearable now—the seed's roots tearing at his insides as it fought against the Gardener's presence. Blood trickled from his nose, his ears, the corners of his eyes, each drop sizzling where it struck the cavern floor.
The Gardener moved.
One moment it stood by the pool, the next it loomed over them, its massive form blocking out the cavern's golden light. The vertical slit widened, and Moyan saw—
Not a monster.
Not an enemy.
A grieving parent come to reclaim stolen children after centuries of waiting.
The roots in his chest went terribly still.
The seed's final whisper echoed through his fading consciousness:
*We were the poison all along.*
Then the Gardener reached out.
And the world went gold.
The pain vanished. The cavern vanished. Time itself seemed to hold its breath as Moyan floated in a space between moments.
When awareness returned, he found himself standing at the center of the root-woven patterns, the Gardener's massive hand resting lightly atop his head. The golden light had changed—no longer just illumination, but something living that flowed between them.
The Gardener's voice, when it came, was softer now—not just in his bones, but in his mind:
*The mark remains, but the purpose changes.*
Moyan understood. The roots in his body weren't being torn out—they were being rewritten. The false Warden's legacy burned away, replaced by something older, truer.
Around them, the cavern trembled. The root-beings rose from their kneeling positions, their song changing to something brighter, fuller. The pool's black water cleared, revealing depths that shimmered with reflected light.
Jian Luo collapsed to his knees, his human hands trembling as they pressed against the stone. "What...what did it do to you?"
Moyan turned, and knew without looking that his eyes now glowed with the same golden light as the Gardener's. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of the roots' long memory:
"It showed us the way home."
Above them, the cavern ceiling split open, revealing a sky they hadn't seen in years—true blue, untainted by the Abyss's eternal green haze. Sunlight streamed through the opening, painting the ancient roots in colors they hadn't known for centuries.
The last Gardener lifted its face toward the light, and for the first time since their descent, the cavern fell completely silent.
No heartbeat.
No song.
Just the quiet, patient sound of roots growing toward the sun.