The Heartwood was older than thought, older than the continent, older than even the wildest theories of arcane research. Its glow was not mere light; it was memory incarnate, pulsing with lifetimes of breath, growth, and death.
Zerrei stepped inside, and the air seemed to solidify around him. Every breath he drew felt like he was inhaling centuries of existence. Every heartbeat was answered with a pulse from the Heartwood, and the golden-thread mark burned hotter than ever, a tether anchoring him to what he was—and what he could never be again.
The chamber stretched impossibly upward, roots curling and twisting in infinite loops, forming spirals that defied Euclidean logic. The light shifted constantly, casting shadows that moved independently of any source, as though the Heartwood itself were breathing, watching, judging.
Zerrei's legs trembled. "It… it knows me," he whispered.
Lyra stepped closer, hand on his shoulder. "Then let it. But we're here with you."
Vessel Five lowered itself beside him, body coiled like a protective sentinel. Its blue cracks had faded, replaced with a faint golden sheen, as though Zerrei's Heartglow had begun to stabilize the hunter itself.
"…Zerrei… together… corelink stabilize…" the hunter whispered.
Zerrei nodded, pressing his palm over Vessel Five's head. "I won't leave you."
Arden muttered, arms crossed, scowling at the twisting roots. "I swear, if any of these stupid roots try to crush us, I'll…"
Lyra shot him a look that froze him mid-sentence. Arden's mouth clamped shut.
Oren stepped forward cautiously, eyes wide with awe. "The Heartwood… it's aware of everything. It's reading all our resonance signatures, particularly Zerrei's. This isn't just a test—it's an interrogation, a judgment."
Zerrei swallowed. "…I don't want judgment."
"You're not alone," Lyra said firmly. "You won't face it alone."
A deep hum thrummed through the chamber. It was low, resonant, impossible to ignore. Zerrei's Arcane Loop began to rotate, the mana along his spine glowing brighter, syncing with the Heartwood's rhythm.
Then the whispers began.
Not voices, not words, but waves of thought, impressions, memories that weren't his own but felt intimately familiar.
Fear.
Loneliness.
Hunger.
Desire.
Regret.
Curiosity.
Pain.
Power.
Each pulse struck Zerrei with crushing intensity, and his Heartglow wavered under the pressure. His wooden frame shivered. Every crack in his body thrummed with raw arcane energy.
Vessel Five stiffened beside him. "…Zerrei… I—cannot—shield entirely…"
Zerrei gritted his teeth. "Then we endure… together."
Lyra knelt beside him, placing her hand on his chest. "Focus on me. Breathe. Feel your Heartglow. This isn't him—this is you."
He closed his eyes.
The Heartwood's memory waves intensified, probing deeper into his identity, seeking the truth. It demanded recognition—not just of his existence, but of what he had become, of what he was willing to become.
"Zerrei…" Oren's voice shook. "It's… seeing your evolution… it wants to know if your selfhood can endure the next phase."
Zerrei shuddered. "…I don't know if I can."
"Yes, you can," Lyra whispered. "I believe it. We all do."
The Chamber shifted.
The roots twisted overhead, forming a cage-like structure. Light fractured across their surfaces, turning every surface into a kaleidoscope of memories, flickering like broken stained glass. The Heartwood spoke now—not in pulses or impressions, but directly into Zerrei's mind:
Child of wood and arcane.
Vessel Two.
Escaped.
Unknown.
Protector.
Destroyer.
Anomaly.
Zerrei's chest tightened. "I… I am… I am Zerrei…"
The Heartwood's response was immediate—a pulse of golden resonance that radiated outward, grounding him. Yet, intertwined with the pulse, a question lingered:
Can you survive what you are about to become?
Vessel Five growled low, muscles coiling in anticipation. "…Zerrei… heartglow amplify…"
Zerrei inhaled. His Heartglow flared—not fear-driven, not survival-driven, but will-driven. He centered himself, letting Corelink flow between Lyra, Arden, Oren, and Vessel Five. The golden threads intertwined into a net of stabilization, each pulse reinforcing his own identity.
The chamber shook. Light fractured into blinding brilliance. The Heartwood's branches reached toward him—not to harm, but to test, to measure, to weigh.
Do you accept yourself? the Heartwood asked, its voice resonating with every fiber of the forest. Do you claim your existence as your own, separate from your maker, separate from the forest, separate from all constraints?
Zerrei's Heartglow flared brighter than ever before. "…I am Zerrei. I am myself. I am not anyone's design. I am not the forest's. I am… ME."
A shockwave of golden light radiated outward. The roots of the Heartwood recoiled, then softened. The chamber vibrated. The pulses of memory stilled—but did not vanish.
Vessel Five shook. "…Zerrei… stable…"
Lyra exhaled. "You did it. You grounded yourself."
But Zerrei knew it was only the beginning.
A deep resonance filled the chamber—ancient, almost infinite. The Heartwood was speaking now to them all, not just Zerrei.
Those who enter the Heartwood must change.
Those who claim it must evolve.
Those who resist will break.
Zerrei's Arcane Loop spun furiously, his golden cracks spreading across limbs, chest, and face. He pressed both hands to the ground, anchoring himself. "…Then I will evolve… but on my terms…"
The Heartwood pulsed again, almost as if considering.
Very well, child of wood and arcane. Prove it.
A tremor surged through the floor. Roots split and reshaped themselves, forming intricate, moving staircases and bridges leading deeper into the Heartwood's core. Light fractured into a spectrum of pure mana, creating corridors of impossible geometry.
Lyra's grip tightened on Zerrei's shoulder. "Then we go. Together."
Vessel Five growled. "…Together…"
Arden muttered, "I hate everything, but yes. We go."
Oren's hands glowed faintly as he began mapping the mana currents. "This… this is beyond any calculation. But we follow Zerrei. It's him the Heartwood wants to test."
Zerrei breathed. His Heartglow expanded outward, golden threads connecting him to everyone around him. "…Then let's see what I'm made of."
And for the first time, the forest around him did not scream.
It did not tremble.
It waited.
Watching. Judging.
And perhaps, just perhaps… acknowledging.
Step by step, they advanced into the Heartwood's living core.
The judgment had begun.
And nothing—neither forest, nor vessel, nor human—would ever be the same again.