The city stank of iron and incense.
Kael stood at its gates, his boots sinking into mud turned rust-red by the evening light. The walls loomed before him, ancient stone veined with creeping ivy—though none of it moved at his approach. Not yet.
Ahead, the guards barely glanced at him as he passed beneath the archway. One yawned. The other scratched at a scab on his neck.
Mortal.
Fragile.
Kael's lips twitched.
The root inside him stirred, tasting the air.
So many hearts beating.
So much blood.
The streets coiled like intestines, narrow and pulsing with life. Merchants hawked rotting fruit. Beggars clutched at his cloak with hands missing fingers. A child darted past, her eyes wide and hollow.
Kael let his gaze linger on her throat.
Just for a moment.
Then he moved on.
He needed a place to rest. To plan.
The inn he chose was nameless, its signboard hanging by a single nail. The air inside was thick with smoke and the sour tang of spilled ale.
The innkeeper didn't look up as Kael approached.
"Room?" the man grunted.
Kael set a coin on the counter. It was slick with something dark.
The innkeeper palmed it without wiping it clean.
"Third floor. End of the hall."
Kael took the key.
The stairs groaned beneath his weight. The walls breathed with the whispers of a hundred past tenants, their secrets trapped in the cracks.
His room was small. A cot. A basin. A window smeared with grime.
Perfect.
Kael set his pack down and flexed his fingers.
The root beneath his skin answered, tendrils unfurling.
Show me, he thought.
Show me what this city hides.
He drew the knife from his belt.
A flick of his wrist, and his palm split open.
Blood welled. Dark. Thick.
Alive.
Kael let it drip into the basin.
[Bloodscry: Active]
The blood shivered.
Then it moved.
Threads of crimson coiled and twisted, weaving themselves into shapes—faces, streets, a spire of black stone rising from the city's heart.
A temple.
No—
A cage.
Something pulsed inside it. Something old. Something hungry.
Kael's breath caught.
The vision sharpened—
A man in robes the color of dried blood. A knife in his hand. A child on an altar—
Then the blood screamed.
The vision shattered.
Kael staggered back, his pulse roaring in his ears.
The basin was empty.
His blood was gone.
Consumed.
A knock at the door.
Kael stilled.
"Hello?" A girl's voice, light and curious. "I—I saw your light. Are you… are you a traveler?"
Kael turned.
The door creaked open without his touch.
A child stood there. The same one from the street. Her eyes were too large for her face. Her fingers clutched a doll made of sticks and twine.
She tilted her head.
"You smell like flowers," she whispered.
Kael smiled.
"Do I?"
Behind him, the shadows twisted.
[Root System Synchronization: 19%]
Growing.
Always growing.