CHAPTER 454: BENEATH (4)

They stood there as the sun began to set, casting gold fire through the canopy. The world below them glowed in shades of amber and emerald, serene and unbothered, the calm surface of an ocean that hid a chasm beneath.

Lindarion’s hand drifted to the hilt of his sword, the steel pulsing faintly with its own inner rhythm, the same rhythm as the World Tree, as if both answered to the same unseen call.

Ashwing tilted his head, sensing his unease. "You’re thinking too loud again."

"Am I?"

"Yeah. About big things. Dangerous things. Things that usually end in ’and then Lindarion had to fix it’."

The prince almost smiled. "Then I’ll make sure it ends differently this time."

The dragon’s tail coiled around his shoulder. "You always say that, too."

Night began to descend. The lights of Lorienya came alive across the city’s hanging bridges and treetop dwellings, flickering like fireflies caught between stars. The wind carried faint laughter from the lower quarters, children chasing illusions through the branches.

For a heartbeat, Lindarion let it fill him, the peace, the light, the unbroken music of this sanctuary. It reminded him what he fought to preserve.

But far beneath, the pulse of the World Tree trembled once more. A deeper rhythm. Older. Hungrier.

Lindarion opened his eyes. "It’s starting."

Ashwing’s head lifted. "What is?"

"The waking," he said quietly. "And this time, I don’t think the forest will be able to sleep through it."

The wind shifted, carrying the scent of burning roots, faint, but real.

And though Lorienya still shone like paradise above, the first cracks of an ancient memory had begun to spread below, echoing the steps of a prince who had once promised the gods themselves that he would not kneel.

The scent came again before dawn, faint, metallic, threaded with the whisper of burning sap. Lindarion woke before the sun, golden eyes flashing open in the dim half-light of the canopy.

The forest was restless. The air hummed with pressure, a low vibration that no ordinary ear could have heard but that struck him like a heartbeat through stone.

Ashwing stirred beside him, grumbling. "It’s too early to be heroic."

Lindarion sat up, fastening his armor with precise, unhurried motions. "Something’s wrong with the lower roots. The mana current feels... fractured."

"That’s a terrible word. Can we have breakfast before you fix it?"

"Later."

Ashwing sighed, stretching his wings before shrinking back into his small form, hopping onto Lindarion’s shoulder. "You’re going to start a habit of skipping breakfast, and then where will we be? Malnourished. Unhappy."

Lindarion smiled faintly but said nothing. His mind was already elsewhere.

He stepped out onto the terrace. The early mist wove between branches, scattering sunlight into drifting ribbons of gold and green. Below, Lorienya’s treetop city still slept, lanterns dimmed, guards shifting lazily on their platforms. Only the World Tree’s pulse, deep and low, throbbed steadily beneath it all.

But that rhythm was different now. It wavered.

The prince’s expression sharpened. He leapt down from the terrace, landing soundlessly on a lower bridge. In a few strides, he was already descending the outer stairways that spiraled toward the forest floor.

"Going alone again?" came a voice from behind.

Nysha appeared, her cloak trailing like smoke, eyes narrowed.

"You shouldn’t move through the roots without an escort," she said, crossing her arms. "The captains were clear about that."

"I wasn’t asking their permission."

"I wasn’t offering mine."

Their gazes locked. For a moment, silence balanced between challenge and familiarity. Then Ashwing broke it with a chirp. "Can we all agree to go together before you start glaring holes in each other?"

Lindarion exhaled. "Fine. But stay close."

They descended into the undercanopy, where the upper roots of the World Tree met the earth in massive, living arches. The air was thicker here, heavy with ancient mana that shimmered faintly between the vines. Dew gathered on the roots like molten gold.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

Birdsong had vanished. No hum of insects, no rustle of small life.

Only the hum. The pulse.

They reached the lowest point where a crystal vein split open across a fallen root, glowing dimly. Lindarion knelt beside it. The mana there was wrong, sluggish, like blood congealing in a wound.

"Something’s feeding on the current," he murmured.

Nysha crouched beside him, shadows flickering around her fingertips. "Could it be Maeven’s corruption spreading this far?"

He shook his head. "No. Maeven’s power bleeds chaos. This is organized. Intentional. Like a siphon carefully built."

He pressed a hand against the root, feeling the vibration beneath.

[System Notice: Environmental Mana Stream Detected.]

[System Alert: Foreign Construct Interference — Signature Unknown.]

[Trace Analysis: Fragment Resonance—Compatible.]

Lindarion’s pulse skipped. His fragment of the original system, the one he had integrated deep beneath the temple, was reacting.

He frowned. "There’s something beneath this layer."

Ashwing tilted his head. "Beneath? Like, under the biggest tree in existence? That sounds like the dumbest place to dig."

"Or the safest," Lindarion said softly. "If you wanted to hide something no one should ever find."

He unsheathed his sword. The blackened steel shimmered faintly with veins of light. With a single strike, he sliced through the hardened crust of root. The cut didn’t bleed, it sighed, releasing a gust of energy that smelled faintly of ozone and dust.

The ground trembled.

Nysha took a step back. "Lindarion—"

Before she could finish, the root split open completely, revealing a narrow fissure glowing faintly from within. Steps. Stone steps. Ancient and carved with draconic script.

Lindarion’s heart slowed. He recognized that language. He’d seen it on the walls of the demi-dragon ruins days before.

"This shouldn’t exist here," he said.

Nysha drew her blade, eyes narrowing. "Then we find out why it does."

They descended.

The stairway spiraled down into a hollow chamber lit by veins of glowing sap running through the walls. It was both organic and crafted, a fusion of life and stone.

The carvings were ancient, depicting dragons entwined with elves, their forms blending as if once they were the same.

At the center of the chamber lay a pool of liquid mana, dense, golden, still as glass. Above it, a faint shimmer hovered, barely visible.

[System Notice: Residual Core Detected — Classification: Draconic-Origin Mana Reactor.]

[Warning: Instability Threshold—Critical.]

Nysha’s eyes widened. "Is that... alive?"

"No," Lindarion said. "It’s dying."