They walked hand in hand through the recovering forest, the air still touched by corruption but no longer suffocating. Flowers cautiously opened again, as if testing whether the danger had truly passed. Spirit-insects hummed in drifting spirals of gold and blue.
Lyriana stayed close, more than she had before. Her fingers laced with Evan's were not hesitant, not accidental—they were warm, deliberate. She glanced at him often, pretending she wasn't doing it, and each time he caught her eye, she flushed faintly and looked away.
He couldn't help teasing. "Are you always this quiet?"
"I am assessing our surroundings," she said quickly.
"I was going to say cute."
She inhaled sharply and walked right into a low branch.
Evan laughed under his breath and brushed a leaf from her hair. "Just saying. It's a good look on you."
Lyriana's ears glowed pink, but she didn't pull away. "Do not get used to it."
"I think I already am."
She squeezed his hand, soft and sure, and led him deeper into the trees.
Hours later, rising mist glowed ahead—silver, pale green, and pearly white. Living arches formed from vines and woven bark spiraled upward, marking an entrance.
"Is that—?"
"Celestgrove," Lyriana said, and pride warmed her voice. "My home."
What unfolded was a city grown, not built: elegant structures rising from living wood, crystalline mosses lighting the walkways, waterfalls spilling gracefully from high platforms in the canopy. Bridges intertwined like flowering branches, glowing faintly with ancient enchantments.
"It's… incredible," Evan whispered.
Lyriana smiled at his awe. "I wished to show it to you."
But not everyone shared her warmth.
Whispers rose as they passed. Guards stared. Elders glanced sharply at Evan as though he carried plague. A few stepped back entirely when the faint glow of Bloomfire brushed the air around him.
"Why do they all look like I'm tracking mud into the house?" Evan muttered.
Lyriana exhaled slowly. "Because you are a human carrying the Bloomfire. And because some can sense your Concept." A pause. "Ignition is rare—especially in one not born of the forest."
"So I'm exotic."
"Dangerous," a stern voice cut in.
A tall elf clad in ceremonial armor approached—Captain Aerell, Lyriana's superior. His gaze held Evan with thinly veiled suspicion.
Lyriana stiffened. "Captain. Report to the council that—"
"The council already knows." His tone was chilly. "They demand your presence. Both of you."
Lyriana's back straightened. "We do not answer demands, not when corruption spreads unchecked."
"Which is why they wish to question the source," Aerell said smoothly, eyes narrowing at Evan.
Evan raised a hand. "I can talk. I'll try not to accidentally set anyone on fire."
Lyriana pinched his arm. Hard.
The captain led them through elevated pathways to a breathtaking amphitheater formed from spiraling roots and luminous crystal. Elders sat in a half-circle, cloaked in robes alive with shifting sigils.
The central elder, an austere woman with moon-pale eyes, spoke first.
"Lyriana Dawnsent. Ranger. And you, bearer of Ignition."
"Evan," he corrected gently.
She ignored that. "Your presence coincides with corruption outbreaks we have not seen in centuries. You carry the Bloomfire. And you have drawn the notice of something far darker."
Lyriana stepped forward instantly. "Honored Elders, Evan saved my life. He saved many lives today. He is not the cause of—"
"We will determine what he is," another elder snapped.
Evan felt Lyriana trembling beside him—not from fear, but anger barely held in place.
"Show us your Concept," the first elder said. "Ignite it."
Lyriana immediately objected. "No. His control is still unstable. He evolved too quickly after Bloomfire—"
"I can do it," Evan whispered.
She caught his arm. "Evan—"
He stepped forward and raised his hand.
Bloomfire unfurled—not a violent burst, but a swirl of crimson-gold petals lifting into the air like a gentle storm. Warmth and purity washed across the grove-hollow. Elders gasped. One reeled back.
Another whispered, horrified, "A Soulpetal blessing…"
"He was chosen by the First Bloom," Lyriana said sharply, stepping in front of Evan protectively.
A ripple of uproar rose among the elders.
"Impossible!"
"No human has been chosen in millennia!"
"He draws danger to us!"
"Or he is meant to save us!"
The lead elder raised her voice, silencing the hall.
"Lyriana. Step away from him."
"No."
The grove went absolutely quiet.
Evan touched her shoulder, gentle. "It's okay."
Lyriana didn't move at first—then stepped closer to him instead of away.
One elder observed quietly, "You fear for him."
Lyriana exhaled shakily. "I care for him." The room erupted again, louder than before.
The lead elder studied Evan with unreadable eyes. "Human… your presence may be salvation or catastrophe. Your connection to the Pale Warden is undeniable."
Evan grimaced. "It whispered to me."
"Then it has marked you. And that cannot be ignored. "She pointed toward the distant canopy." Corruption blooms in the Outer Canopies—near the Shattered Roots. A forbidden region."
Lyriana inhaled sharply. "That place has been sealed for generations."
"Which is why you will investigate," the elder said. "And he will go with you."
Evan nodded slowly. "Fine. Who else is coming?"
A new voice spoke from the shadows.
"Me."
A woman stepped forward—tall, composed, wrapped in midnight-blue robes etched with silver sigils. Her hair fell like ink, braided with living thorns. Arcane energy shimmered faintly along her fingertips.
Lyriana's entire posture changed—stiffening, wary.
"Seren," she whispered.
The spellweaver offered a graceful bow.
"I am Seren Valeheart. The council has chosen me to accompany your expedition. "Her eyes slid to Evan, assessing, curious, too calm." And I am… very interested in studying your magic."
Her gaze held him a moment longer than polite.
Lyriana's hand found Evan's and clasped it with sudden, unmistakable firmness.
Seren noticed. And smiled—slowly, knowingly, beautifully dangerous.
Whatever lay ahead in the Shattered Roots, between corruption, ancient Wardens, and the mystery surrounding Evan's evolving Concept…
The journey had just grown far more complicated.
They departed Celestgrove in early twilight, when the canopy glowed faintly with drifting lights and the air smelled of dew. Lyriana walked close to Evan, fingers brushing his as if she wanted to hold his hand openly but didn't want to seem unprofessional in front of Seren.
Seren, for her part, walked a few paces ahead—gliding, really—her robes whispering across the mossy ground. Her posture was perfect. Her stride silent. Every now and then she glanced back at them, her eyes lingering on Evan longer than they should have.
Lyriana noticed every single time.
"You are staring again," Evan murmured softly to her.
"She is staring at you," Lyriana whispered sharply.
"Well… that's not my fault."
Lyriana's voice dropped into a lower, muttered tone. "It is absolutely your fault."
But she slipped her hand into his when Seren wasn't looking, giving it a quick squeeze before letting go.A quiet claim.
They traveled through winding paths, through whispering leaves and ancient roots that formed natural tunnels. Seren kept silent most of the time, but when she finally spoke, her voice sounded like flowing water.
"You wield a curious magic, Evan. Your Concept resonates oddly with the forest."
Lyriana shot her a glare. "He does not need to be examined like some alchemical specimen."
"I never said he did," Seren replied mildly. "But when something unprecedented stands before us, it is foolish not to understand it."
Evan cleared his throat. "I'm, uh… right here."
Seren smiled at him—gentle, but with a spark of amused danger. "Yes. That is why I am speaking."
Lyriana's footsteps thudded noticeably harder.
They continued onward until the forest shifted. The air grew colder. Even the spirit-lights dimmed, their glow paling as if reluctant to enter further. Roots jutted from the ground at odd angles, twisting unnaturally. Vines hung like withered veins.
Lyriana slowed, voice tightening. "We're near the Shattered Roots."
Evan swallowed. "Looks friendly."
"This place is tainted," Seren said quietly. "Even I can sense the corruption here. It's old. Far older than recent outbreaks."
Evan felt it too—a crawling sensation at the base of his spine. A heaviness, as though the air itself pressed inward.
Lyriana took a breath. "Stay close. Both of you."
She led them deeper, stepping lightly across cracked roots. The corruption had warped everything—the trees bent into unnatural shapes, their trunks hollowed by shadow. The ground pulsed faintly with dull violet veins.
They reached an opening.
And stopped.
A massive chasm torn through the earth stretched before them—roots snapped and dangling like broken ribs. At the bottom of the ravine, a pool of semi-liquid corruption churned, glowing faintly with a sick, otherworldly hue.
Evan stared. "What… caused this?"
"Something powerful," Seren murmured. "Corruption this dense doesn't appear naturally."
Lyriana's posture straightened. "We need to find a source. A core. Something that explains why this region awakened."
They circled the chasm until they found a narrow bridge formed from a fallen tree. Lyriana tested it carefully with her boot.
"It should hold."
Evan stepped forward—
But Lyriana grabbed his arm. "I will go first."
He didn't argue—not after what happened last time.
She crossed gracefully. Seren followed with casual ease, barely disturbing the moss. Evan made it two-thirds of the way before the log trembled under his weight.
It cracked.
"Evan!" Lyriana's voice snapped through the air.
He froze as the log tilted.
Seren raised a hand. "Do not move."
Lyriana reached the end of the log and extended her arm. "Take my hand."
He reached for hers—but the log gave way entirely.
Lyriana dove forward, catching his wrist with a gasp.
And the two of them slammed back onto solid ground together.
Evan coughed. "Ow."
Lyriana hovered over him, face inches from his, breath trembling. "Are you hurt?"
"Only my pride."
She pressed her forehead to his for a brief, fierce second. "Do not fall."
"Working on it."
Seren cleared her throat pointedly. "If the two of you are finished nearly dying and… doing whatever that was… there is a disturbance nearby."
Lyriana slowly stood and pulled Evan up—perhaps more roughly than necessary, given Seren's tone.
They continued deeper.
At some point, the corruption pulsed.
Once.Twice.Then—
A scream tore through the woods.
Not human.Not animal.
Something in between.
Lyriana and Seren exchanged a sharp look, and all three sprinted toward the sound.
They broke into an open hollow where the ground sagged inward like a crater. A young elf—barely more than a boy—lay trapped beneath thick corrupted roots. His skin was pale, eyes wide with terror.
Lyriana gasped. "That's—Firen? He's only a novice scout!"
Evan immediately moved to help, but Seren extended an arm across his chest.
"Wait."
She stepped forward—and the corruption pulsed aggressively toward her.
"It's feeding on fear," she whispered. "Trying to complete the transformation."
Lyriana's face hardened. "We're not losing another one."
Evan could feel heat building in his chest, climbing into his throat. Bloomfire called to him, responding instinctively.
"I can purify it," he said.
Lyriana nodded. "I'll keep the roots from closing. Seren—?"
"I will hold its mind back," Seren said, kneeling beside the elf. "The corruption tries to drown consciousness. I can anchor him."
Evan stepped forward and let Bloomfire rise.
Flames blossomed around his hands—not violent, but warm, glowing, alive. The Soulpetal in his satchel pulsed, harmonizing with the fire. Evan pressed his palms to the corrupted roots.
They sizzled.Shrieked.Reeled back like burned flesh.
Firen sobbed in relief as Lyriana cut through the retreating vines, pulling him into her arms. Seren whispered steadying words, weaving soft blue sigils around the boy's temples.
Evan exhaled, feeling the exhaustion hit him like a physical weight. He staggered.
Lyriana was at his side instantly. "Evan!"
"I'm fine," he lied.
"No, you're not." She caught him by the shoulders, supporting his weight.
Seren approached, her expression softened—just a little. "You pushed your Concept too far."
"I had to." Evan looked at the rescued scout. "He would've turned into… whatever we saw earlier."
"Yes," Seren said quietly. "You saved him."
Lyriana helped Evan sit beneath a tree as Firen slowly regained consciousness.
The young elf looked at Evan with wide, frightened gratitude. "You… you burned the darkness…"
He passed out again, but peacefully this time.
Seren rose. "We cannot return him to the city. The elders will want answers before we have them."
Lyriana nodded. "We move forward. The corruption source must be close."
Evan rested for a moment, Lyriana kneeling beside him and checking his pulse even though he kept insisting he was fine.
"You scared me," she murmured, brushing his hair back.
"I'm getting used to that," he joked weakly.
She didn't smile. Not this time.
"Evan," she whispered, her voice trembling just a little. "You can't keep burning yourself like this. I can't—"
She stopped, unable to finish.
Evan put his hand on hers. "I'm not going anywhere."
Her breath hitched. For a moment she leaned in—forehead brushing his temple—in a soft, intimate near-embrace she didn't quite finish.
Siren watched from a few steps away, arms folded, expression unreadable.
"We should go," the spellweaver said gently, almost respectfully. "We are close. I can feel… something ahead."
They helped Firen to his feet and guided him back toward safer ground, leaving him hidden in a protected root-shelter.
Then the three continued alone.
The air grew still.Cold.Expectant.
The trees thinned into an eerie clearing.
At the center lay a cracked stone obelisk—ancient and humming with violet light. Corruption poured from its fractures like bleeding shadow.
Evan stared. "What… is that?"
Seren's eyes widened. "This is no natural formation. This is a seal-stone."
Lyriana whispered, horrified, "A seal-stone for what?"
Seren's jaw tightened. "Something that predates even the forest elves."
The obelisk pulsed again—louder, stronger—as if answering her question.
Evan's Emberheart throbbed painfully.
Lyriana grabbed his arm. "Evan? Evan!"
He stumbled, gasping as Bloomfire flared uncontrollably in his veins.
Seren stepped forward, eyes widening. "His Concept—"
A voice—cold, ancient, familiar—whispered through the clearing, vibrating through the roots.
"Ignition…"
Lyriana's grip tightened on him.
Seren's expression darkened.
The Pale Warden had found them.
And the seal-stone was waking.