The wind turned feral.
Leaves didn't dance—they fled. A cyclone of emerald light ripped through the clearing, and from its heart stepped a figure no longer quite a boy… not yet a god.
Dryad.
Barefoot. Breathless. Unrecognizable.
He stood taller than memory dared allow. His once-grey hair now shimmered with green strands, catching the moonlight like moss spun into silk. Freckles were constellations mapped across his cheeks. Bark curled around his shoulders like armor. Blossoms pulsed along his collarbones, and vines slithered behind him like loyal familiars. His metallic shield gleamed at his side, forged in a dull shimmer that seemed older than steel itself. And his eyes—green-gold—burned as if lit by the heartwood of the world.
The Nymph's royal mark glowed faintly down his throat—a half-divine, half-forgotten lineage. Both outlawed. Both inevitable.
Luna's voice cracked the stillness. "Dryad…?"
Beside her, Sniffia's mother raised an eyebrow. "Another one of my daughter's lovers?"
Dryad didn't respond.
His gaze swept across them like a feral storm, unsure where to land. Wild. Frantic. Lost. His breath stuttered. His lips trembled. Then—
The ground exploded. A sound like bones shattering under pressure.
Time fractured.
Pamela reeled backward as a thick root surged from the earth—aimed straight for her chest like a harpoon.
Dante moved.
Faster than thought, faster than desperation. He snatched Pamela mid-fall, his arms scooping her from death's grasp. In a single bound, they blurred across the moss-slick terrain and tumbled into a new clearing—unfamiliar, silent, area really far from where they were before.
"You're okay," he gasped, cupping her face. "You're safe."
But time had not returned to normal.
Everything around them hovered in impossible slow motion. Branches trembled in midair. Dust floated like constellations trapped in amber. Pamela's terrified eyes reflected the silence... and then Dante felt it.
A cold kiss curled around his ankle.
Roots—impossibly fast, impossibly sentient—had already claimed him. Here. Far from the initial rupture. It made no sense.
"How...?"
There was no time to ask.
The ground devoured him in a heartbeat, leaving only silence and a Dante-shaped imprint in the moss.
Milliseconds later—
Back in the Forest of Giants, roots erupted from the soil, whipping like serpents. Vines lunged toward Luna, her sisters, Lazarus, the Kirin—even Sniffia's mother.
Thorns sank in.
Venom hissed.
The forest didn't ask. It swallowed.
Sniffia and Peirce didn't need explanation.
They sprinted toward the chaos, their instincts screaming louder than the vines.
Peirce reached Luna first, catching her arm just before the vines yanked her under. His muscles strained. Thorns pierced his ankles, blood soaked his calves—but he didn't let go.
Sniffia dropped beside her mother, claws lit silver. Her mother's head was nearly submerged. Sniffia plunged her hands into the dirt and pulled, growling like a beast cornered by fate.
Beneath them—horrors pulsed. A living net of serpentine vines writhed below, dragging bodies into the earth.
"Where am I?!" Dryad shouted. His voice cracked like splintered glass. "Who brought me here?!"
Sniffia's mother, nearly buried, raised her chin. "We didn't summon you, boy. You came of your own will. Release us. Now."
Dryad's shield trembled. "Lies! I was imprisoned! Suspended in liquid! A glass coffin—I remember trees above me… but too tall. Too loud!"
Luna, half-buried, exhaled. "You vanished, Dryad. Right after your kind discovered who created the Creepers… you simply disappeared. Which means—someone broke you out. You escaped."
Dryad's glowing eyes narrowed. "Dryad… Is that my name?" His lip curled. "Why do you say it like you own it?"
Node landed beside Peirce, crouching low. "What in the nine roots is going on?" he muttered.
"Don't touch them!" Peirce barked. "They paralyze—!"
Too late. Vines locked tighter around Peirce's calves. His fingers were raw from dragging Luna free.
Sniffia snarled. "Release. My. Mother!" Her claws ripped through root after root. Power shimmered under her fur, beast form rising to the surface.
Dryad ignored her.
His eyes landed on Peirce.
He stepped forward. The air folded around him.
The vines thickened with every step.
"You…" he growled. "What are you?"
Peirce blinked.
Dryad inhaled sharply. "You feel like her."
Peirce frowned. "Her who?"
"A memory," Dryad whispered. "Wren. Yes—how is she inside you?"
Luna stiffened. "You can sense her? From him?"
Dryad lunged. In an instant, his hands gripped Peirce's face.
The shield clanged to the ground.
Node tried to move—but couldn't.
"You're merged," Dryad whispered. "Intertwined. What are you?!"
Lightning tore the sky.
Then Node swung his twin swords.
Just as the sharp, pointed vines whipped toward him, the shockwave from the vines blast tore through the air, blasting Node's long hair violently backward.
Frozen, he stared down the deadly tendrils aimed straight at him.
Sniffia's claws tore deeper, relentless and savage. She hadn't stopped fighting, not for a second. Her breath came in ragged gasps, every inhale a sharp stab of pain. Her furry body strained against the tightening vines that coiled around her like cold steel—but still, she never loosened her grip on her mother.
Blood streamed down her arms, warm and sticky, mixing with dirt and sweat. Yet she clung tighter, her eyes blazing with fierce determination.
"You—I will kill you if you don't release her now!!" Sniffia roared, her voice raw with desperation and rage.
But something snapped inside Dryad.
He vanished.
FLASH.
He reappeared beside Sniffia and slammed his shield into her chest.
BOOM.
A crater split beneath her. Dust spiraled. But when it cleared—
Sniffia was still standing. Shaking. Bleeding. Unbroken.
She released her mother's wrist just before the shockwave could dislocate her shoulder, using her own body to shield her from the violent force. Her mother's form slowly sank into the ground, a wicked smirk curling at the corner of her mother's lips.
Sniffia snarled, eyes blazing with fury.
"I won't say it again," she growled, voice low and deadly. "Let them go."
Peirce yanked the last vine from Luna's arm. His hands shook. Blood streamed from his knuckles.
The earth screamed again.
A tree-sized vine launched upward, slamming Peirce backward into a cedar that exploded on impact. Vines caged him in.
Node rolled, barely dodging a thorn-laced whip.
FLASH.
Dryad blinked again—now airborne above Sniffia.
CRACK.
His shield hit the earth where she'd just stood. She twisted, claws flashing—too slow.
Dryad vanished again.
FLASH.
Node was next. His swords met Dryad's shield, but the force threw him through three bushes.
Sniffia's silver fur bristled. Her lips curled.
"You blink fast…" she growled. "But I listen faster."
Behind her—BOOM.
She ducked.
Her tail whipped out—slamming Dryad mid-air. He flew through two trees. She chased. They crashed through a boulder—it detonated.
But from the rubble, a massive vine shot upward and impaled her side mid-pounce.
She was flung across the clearing—blood spraying. Her body ragged.
Mid-flight, her wounds began closing.
She landed, skidding through shattered roots. Rising, slow, panting.
"I thought you two were leaving me to fight this alone," she muttered without looking back.
Behind her, Node and Luna emerged.
Then came Peirce—shirtless, soaked in blood and mud. His fists and bare feet pulsed with glowing green. Each step melted the grass beneath him. His eyes lit like twin forest lanterns.
"Oh, my bubbles… chai... not again," Peirce muttered.
Luna exhaled, stunned. That same phrase again…
Could it be? Is he truly the boy the Seer urged the princess to find?
Peirce turned to her. "Lazarus... Your mother. The others. Are they…?"
"They're not dead," Sniffia said, panting. "I can sense them. Trapped—being used as anchors."
She frowned. "But… two of the Humanes aren't down there."
Luna blinked, confused. "Huh…?"
"We don't have time to figure that out right now," Node growled, his voice sharp. "We need to snap him out of it."
Peirce cocked a brow. "Since when do you use weapons?"
Sniffia echoed, "Yeah—swords?"
Node smirked. "You're not the only ones with secrets."
Luna stood quiet.
These three—chaotic, reckless, loud—yet here they were, calm in the face of danger. She could sense it: they had been through more than most could imagine. Pain, loss, battles fought in silence, and storms weathered in the shadows. Their calm wasn't born from fearlessness—it was carved out of survival, shaped by hardship, and hardened by everything they'd endured.
Her gaze lingered on Peirce.
So… is this the boy the Seer spoke of?
The ground shook.
Dryad surged again—vines screaming across the terrain.
And the air itself shifted—heavy with what was about to begin.