"You are not worthy... No. 28," the ethereal voice echoed from the Mother Root statue, crouched low before him. Its hollow gaze locked onto Aether, who was desperately trying to pull that thing buried deep under the ground.
Aether's eyes blinked in disbelief, a sharp tremor running through his spine as he realised the Root Statue was... moving. Slowly, with an eerie grace, the statue lifted itself up. The roots wrapped around its body cracked and strained, snapping like old bark torn by time.
It stood—not like a construct, but like something alive—like a person had returned to that form.
Aether frowned, his jaw tightening, "Not worthy?" he muttered under his breath, fingers clenching tighter around the object he couldn't yank free. He pulled again, his muscles tensed—but it refused to move, not even an inch.
Whatever it was, it wouldn't budge.
"Told you... No. 28," the Root murmured, voice laced with amusement. It turned its head slowly toward the rotating Ebon Stone.
