CHAPTER 455: BENEATH (5)

He approached the pool slowly. The mana there pulsed faintly, each beat slower than the last. It wasn’t natural energy, it was heart energy, condensed life-force. Whatever creature this belonged to had been massive, ancient, and powerful enough to be part of the World Tree’s very roots.

And something had been draining it.

Ashwing’s tail lashed nervously. "That... doesn’t feel right. It feels like me, but wrong. Twisted."

Lindarion knelt, resting a hand just above the surface. His eyes flared gold.

[System Notice: Partial Core Sync Possible.]

[Warning: Risk of Resonance Cascade — Proceed with Caution.]

He didn’t hesitate.

Energy surged upward, lashing through his body like wildfire. For an instant, his vision split, he saw through the roots, through the flow of the World Tree’s veins, through Lorienya itself. He saw energy streams bending, turning, and vanishing into black holes along the western horizon.

Then, a glimpse, an enormous shadow, distant but vast enough to blot constellations.

He snapped back, gasping, as light flickered out of the pool.

Nysha caught his arm. "What did you see?"

"Something feeding. Something older than the World Tree. It’s siphoning mana from everything connected to it."

"Then we destroy it."

Lindarion shook his head, eyes narrowing. "No. If we destroy the channel before finding its end, we’ll sever the World Tree’s lifeblood. Lorienya will wither."

Nysha’s expression tightened. "Then what do we do?"

He stood, sheathing his sword, golden light still flickering faintly in his hair and eyes. "We trace it. Quietly. Before anyone else feels the tremor."

Ashwing’s wings flared briefly. "You mean before Dythrael does."

Lindarion looked toward the ceiling, where faint vibrations still hummed through the roots. "Yes," he said softly. "Because if this power was ever his once... he’ll come for it again."

The chamber shuddered, a faint, echoing pulse spreading outward through the tree’s veins. Above them, far above, the branches rustled as if in unease.

And deep beneath the roots, something ancient stirred, just faint enough to remind them that the line between life and decay had never truly been drawn.

By the time Lindarion and Nysha resurfaced from beneath the World Tree, the first rays of dawn had split the forest canopy. Light filtered through the leaves like liquid gold, serene and soft, but to Lindarion, the air felt different. Thicker. Restless.

He could feel the hum of the World Tree still pulsing beneath his feet, but now it carried an undertone, a subtle, dissonant tremor like a heartbeat off rhythm.

Something had been awakened.

Ashwing, perched on his shoulder again, grumbled. "So... we just ignore the big dying pool of dragon juice under the forest and pretend everything’s fine?"

Lindarion adjusted the clasp of his cloak as they stepped onto the high bridges connecting the city’s treetop platforms. "No. We wait. And we watch who notices."

"Which is the same as pretending everything’s fine."

Nysha followed a few steps behind, arms crossed, cloak sweeping the air. "You’re too calm for someone who just found an ancient reactor feeding on the World Tree’s veins."

He didn’t answer immediately. His eyes tracked the forest below, guards patrolling, children gathering in study circles, merchants already opening their morning stalls. Lorienya looked unchanged. Peaceful. Eternal.

But he knew better.

"Because panic doesn’t serve purpose," he finally said. "And purpose is what keeps power from turning to ruin."

Nysha gave him a sidelong look. "You sound like your father."

Lindarion’s steps slowed just slightly. "Eldrin spoke sense, even when it wasn’t convenient."

"I didn’t say it was a bad thing," she murmured.

They reached the central plaza, where the morning sun spilled across the broad wooden platforms. The city guards were beginning their first drills of the day, rows of archers lined along the railings, sparring partners exchanging measured blows, the rhythmic clash of metal and chant of commands filling the air.

It should have been comforting.

Instead, Lindarion felt the subtle drag of the mana flow twisting through the space, tugging faintly at the roots below.

He clenched his fist.

Nysha noticed. "It’s spreading."

"Yes," he said. "Slowly. Whatever is siphoning energy isn’t close, it’s threading its way through the network, masking itself."

"And we can’t tell the council?"

"They’ll seal the roots and draw attention. If this thing has awareness, if it’s listening, that could trigger it."

Nysha’s jaw tightened. "Then what’s the plan?"

He looked out toward the horizon, where the canopy thinned and distant mist marked the border between Lorienya and the outer wilds. "We follow the pull. I’ll trace its path from above."

Ashwing groaned. "Great. Flying into mysterious, life-draining mana currents again. Totally safe."

But there was no humor in Lindarion’s gaze.

He felt something deep inside, a resonance that wasn’t just from the World Tree, but from himself. The golden light that Elyndra had awakened now hummed faintly beneath his skin, answering the dissonant current below.

It wasn’t merely reacting. It was opposing it.

That meant the source wasn’t just corruption. It was familiar. Kin to the same ancient force that created the Tree itself, and twisted in ways that mirrored creation’s own laws.

He turned away from the plaza, his cloak flaring faintly. "Tell the council I’ll be gone until nightfall. Alone."

Nysha caught his arm. "Lindarion—"

He paused.

Her grip tightened. "You can’t keep doing this. Flying into danger like it’s routine. We’re not dealing with a band of raiders anymore, this is something old."

His gaze softened, but only slightly. "I know. That’s why I can’t bring anyone else."

She frowned, but before she could argue again, Ashwing expanded in a shimmer of black-and-silver light, his body stretching into his true draconic form. The wooden platform creaked slightly under his weight.

"Try not to blow up the forest while I’m gone," the dragon muttered.

Lindarion stepped onto his back, steady and silent. "No promises."

Ashwing beat his wings once, and the pair rose through the canopy. Leaves scattered like gold dust as they pierced the morning air, ascending higher and higher until the treetop city became a glittering web of light below them.

From above, Lorienya looked like a living constellation, veins of the World Tree glowing beneath its soil, threads of mana interwoven like rivers of molten sun.