The ties that bind are tested most when roots twist the deepest.
The portal pulsed—a swirling tear of deep emerald and violent black, humming as if alive. The roots had spread, creeping up the sides of Elias Grayee's old cabin, shattering the roof and walls with their relentless hunger. The friends—Emma, Mark, Nathen, and Blake—stood before it, hearts racing. The wind howled from the rift like a thousand breaths echoing from a forest grave.
Emma stepped forward first.
She hadn't spoken much since they found the cabin, long abandoned, its foundation overtaken by rot and bark. Her fingers brushed the broken wood, now thick with a fungal sheen. The diary page they'd discovered confirmed it: Elias had entered this rift weeks ago. And he hadn't returned.
"I'm going," she said firmly, her voice cracking but eyes clear.
"Emma—" Blake started, but she was already gone. Swallowed whole.
The others followed without hesitation. Mark last, clenching a hunting knife and a flashlight, whispering a prayer to gods he didn't believe in.
---
They landed in darkness.
The sky was a swirling kaleidoscope of greys and muted blues. Trees twisted in shapes that hurt to look at. Fungi pulsed on every surface. It was like the world itself breathed—slow, deep, wet.
"What is this place?" Nathen whispered.
"The dark realm," Emma murmured. "Makehsm."
They trekked through lichen-lit trails, trying to find clues—shreds of Elias's presence. Each of them recalled fragments of their time with him. Mark remembered childhood tree-climbing dares. Blake recalled their teen fights and eventual bond over hunting. Nathen missed their long, existential talks.
But Emma… she remembered the way Elias looked at the stars. The way he laughed when he didn't want to. How he carried guilt he never explained.
She loved him. Had for years.
---
Meanwhile...
Elias stood at the edge of the Pterid village. The ferns here grew in spirals, brushing the clouds of this veiled realm. Bioluminescent moss blanketed the pathways, lighting the steps of the villagers—tall, ethereal beings with features carved by the forest itself. The Pteris, protectors of the Pterid Shard.
Beside him, Elowen—the forest nymph—walked in silence, her skin shimmering with emerald undertones, her vines braided and adorned with silver-spored flowers.
The elder of the village—a being named Verrial—welcomed them.
"You walk with the scent of ancient sap," Verrial said, eyes glowing pale green. "The forest has marked you. You carry its awakening."
That night, Verrial offered them a small fern-grown cottage at the village's edge, nestled among towering fronds and glowing mushrooms. The walls were weaved from live vines, breathing and shifting gently, like the pulse of the realm.
Inside, it was warm.
A soft firefly-glow radiated from the floor, casting a silver hue on Elowen's face. She sat near the woven mat, curling her legs beneath her, her eyes flickering toward Elias.
"You have changed," she said.
"I feel it. Every hour I'm here, something in me wakes up. Like I'm... not who I thought I was."
Elowen smiled faintly. "You were never human alone. The forest called to you because you were born of it."
Elias met her gaze. "You've stayed with me through all of this. I don't know why."
"Because even the trees know when a soul is breaking."
Silence hung between them. Then, without thinking, Elias reached out. She took his hand.
Outside, the wind whispered through the trees like distant voices. Inside, Elias and Elowen leaned closer. Their foreheads touched. And the forest watched quietly as the night deepened.
They didn't speak more that night. No need.
As Elias lay on the soft woven mat beside her, her vines gently coiled around his arm—not constricting, just resting. Protecting. Trusting.
And in sleep, Elias dreamed of fire beneath roots... and voices calling his name.
To be continued.