\[Rotland's Fungal Fortress: Palace of Decay]
Notarus stirred.
The Penicillin Knight groaned, mold-flecked breath wheezing through the cracks of his dented helmet. Fungal fluid pooled beneath him as he tried to rise. Around him, the aftermath of the battle lay scattered: shattered stone, burnt spores, and the unmistakable scent of courage.
"He's still breathing," Blake whispered, stepping back.
"No. He's... looking at us," Nathen corrected, lowering his weapon.
Mark clenched his jaw, readying another vial.
But Notarus did not attack.
Instead, he knelt. Not to collapse—but in reverence.
"You fought like kin of the deep woods," the knight rasped. "You earned more than death."
Mark blinked. "What... are you saying?"
Notarus slowly removed his helmet, revealing a withered face crisscrossed with bioluminescent veins.
"Tell me your tale," he said. "Let this old warrior hear why the fire in your eyes rivals that of the ancient wars."
The boys exchanged glances, unsure. But Nathen stepped forward and spoke of Elias, of the realm they stumbled into, of soul stones and stolen balance. He spoke of their journey, their losses, and the fight ahead. His voice cracked once, but he never stopped.
Notarus listened in silence, the fungal lights dimming as if the fortress itself were leaning in to hear.
When they finished, he bowed.
"The rot is not my king's alone," he said. "He was once noble. Now corrupted. I will not follow the madness."
He removed his armor piece by piece and offered it to them, along with his weapon—a bone-carved greatsword infused with fungal resilience.
"Use this," he said. "And when you strike him... make it a blow worthy of the forest."
Blake stared at the massive sword. "This... this is real, right?"
"As real as the war you now fight," Notarus answered, then leaned back against the wall. "Go. And tell the roots... Notarus remembers who he was."
---
\[Pteris Border: A Nymph's Regret and a Human's Hope]
Elias and Elowen continued their trek, the Temple of Symbiosis vanishing behind dense fern-thick mist. The land beneath their feet was soft with moss, whispering with every step.
"Where now?" Elias asked, voice strained.
Elowen drew a deep breath. "To Crysthorn. Lichen country. The last known echo of the Lichstone's spirit lies buried beneath its cliffs."
He nodded. Still guarded.
"You don't trust me," she said again.
"I'm walking beside you, aren't I?"
"But not with me."
He paused. Looked at her. "Then give me a reason."
Elowen hesitated, then reached into her satchel and handed him a carved seedstone.
"My mother gave me this. Said if I ever forgot who I was... it would remind me. You should hold it now. If I change, or lie again... crush it."
Elias stared at the object. It pulsed faintly with green light, like a heartbeat caught in time. His fingers closed around it.
"Crysthorn it is," he said, and they walked on.
---
\[Pteris Village: Fog and Determination]
Emma wiped dew off her cheeks as she followed the overgrown trail. Her stomach growled, and her legs ached. Still, she pushed forward.
"Stop, girl," came a gruff voice.
The Pteris village chief stood ahead, holding a satchel.
"Your friends walked into deeper woods. You won't last an hour without food or guidance."
Emma narrowed her eyes. "Then help me. I won't abandon them."
The chief sighed, his bark-lined skin glinting faintly in the foggy light. "You have fire. Dangerous, but sometimes needed. Take this."
He handed her dried roots wrapped in birch leaf, a folded moss-map, and a vial of glowing sap.
"Follow the crescent-shaped roots by moonrise. They'll guide you toward the Crysthorn cliffs."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Just don't die."
---
\[Earth: Greywood Forest Trailhead - Nightfall]
Ranger Lang Straw adjusted his rifle strap as Sam reviewed his notes again.
"You're sure about this tunnel?" Lang asked.
"No. But it's breathing," Sam said.
They both stared at the hollow in the tree—a twisted, root-ringed chasm hidden under rotting leaves. It exhaled mist.
"We call for backup. Then we wait," Lang said.
"No," Sam replied. "You call for backup. I'm going in."
Lang stepped forward. "Like hell you are. Alone?"
"I don't think I'm supposed to wait."
Lang looked into the mist, then at Sam. "Then I'm sending a drone. And if you're not back in six hours, I'm burning the forest down myself."
Sam smirked. "Deal."
He stepped inside.
The roots closed behind him.
---
[Underground Tunnel: Between Worlds]
The roots that sealed behind Sam shimmered faintly, like muscle tissue flexing under skin. Darkness swallowed the air, but Sam's flashlight pierced through, revealing a narrow, pulsating corridor lined with tendrils.
Each step echoed wetly.
He turned on his body cam, whispering, "Lang, if you're getting this… this isn't just a tunnel. It's something alive."
The walls around him twitched slightly, and from the ceiling, droplets of glowing amber fell like tears. Sam crouched and dipped his gloved fingers into one. The substance buzzed faintly with heat.
Suddenly, a soft voice whispered through the tunnel: "He watches."
Sam froze.
"Who's there?" he barked, swinging the light. Nothing. Just the warped twist of root and lichen-covered bark.
He moved forward, deeper, until he reached a fork—one side led down into blue haze, the other up toward flickering red spores.
"I hate decisions," he muttered, before choosing the upward path.
---
[Crysthorn Outskirts: The Shivering Clefts]
Elias and Elowen arrived at the edge of a massive drop. Crysthorn stretched before them like the skeleton of a dead titan—ragged cliffs lined with fossilized lichens and luminous crevices humming with unknown life.
Elowen inhaled. "This place... it doesn't forget."
"You've been here before?" Elias asked.
"When I was very young. My father took me here to hear the Lichstone's chant. It only speaks to those who've lost something to the forest."
Elias looked over the ridge. "Then it'll be screaming for us."
Suddenly, the wind shifted, and a faint chant, layered in many voices, drifted upward from the cliffs—unsettling, melodic, and impossibly ancient.
Elowen's eyes widened. "It's already awake."
---
[Pteris Trail - Emma's Journey]
Emma moved fast, breath fogging, the crescent-root trail glowing faintly under moonlight. Her fingers gripped the moss-map like a lifeline. She paused only once to sip the glowing sap, warmth rushing through her body like firelight in winter.
A rustle in the woods. She spun.
From the underbrush, a creature emerged—small, hunched, with fern-fronds for limbs and eyes that blinked with mirrored silver.
"I mean no harm," Emma said.
The creature sniffed, then tapped its head and gestured forward.
"You know where they went?"
It chirped and darted ahead. Emma followed.
---
[Rotland Fortress - Ruins Beneath]
Blake, Mark, and Nathen now stood over the crater left by Notarus' fall. Nathen examined the greatsword, feeling its pulse.
"This weapon's alive," he muttered.
Mark nodded. "So are we now. No more running."
Blake looked to the stairs spiraling downward into darker fungus.
"What lies beneath?" he asked.
"Vrathkul," Mark said. "And whatever he's hiding."
They descended, unaware of the obsidian eyes watching through every spore.
Vrathkul's voice echoed faintly from below:
"Come, children. Come and burn… so I may rise."
[To be continued]