Beneath the dream

Emily had never felt the earth beneath her so alive.

It wasn’t the warm thrum of life she had once known—the steady pulse of a heart, the sound of breath, the flow of blood. No, this was something deeper. Something older. The roots that wrapped around her limbs were like cold fingers, pulling her downward, drawing her into a place that wasn’t just buried—it was forgotten.

Her body, broken but still clinging to its last breath, hovered in a sea of darkness. The surface above her was distant, unreachable. She didn’t know how long she had been trapped beneath the roots of WildWood. Hours? Days? Time had stopped making sense the moment the ritual had gone wrong. The moment the seed had split, and the part of Marellen that she had thought to silence was unleashed.

And now, it called to her.

“Emily…”

Her name wasn’t a voice. It was an echo. A presence. It surrounded her, threading through her thoughts, winding around her bones.

She had thought the forest’s hunger was quenched. But the truth was, WildWood had never been satisfied. It had only been waiting for the right moment to break free. To grow.

And she was its anchor.

Her breath hitched. The roots constricted around her. They twisted tighter, not to hold her, but to mark her. Her blood had become part of the earth, and in doing so, she had allowed the seed to sprout. The entity now known as Marellen was not simply an ancient force of nature—it was the embodiment of something else, something that had taken root beneath WildWood long before the forest had begun to claim its victims.

But the seed wasn’t just part of Marellen. It was tied to something darker, something not of this world, something that didn’t belong. The very thing that had torn through the binding Clara had tried so desperately to set in place.

And it wanted her.

⸻

Above the surface, Clara couldn’t shake the feeling that they had done something irrevocable.

It wasn’t guilt that gnawed at her. It was knowing. The pieces were scattered, like fragments of an ancient puzzle, and every day, more of the image became clear. They had taken action, yes. They had closed the rift, bound the worst of the corruption, but in doing so, they had unknowingly triggered something else. Something that wasn’t part of Marellen’s body at all.

The creature that was still reaching out to Emily was not Marellen. It was something far older, older than the Yanuwah, older than the humans who had dared settle near WildWood. A force that predated even the forest itself.

Clara paced the lighthouse, her mind racing. They needed to find Emily. But how could they reach her, when the earth itself had claimed her?

Ashani entered quietly, her movements careful, as though she too sensed the weight of what had happened.

“We need to get to her. Now,” Clara said, without looking up. “Before it takes her completely.”

Ashani nodded. “I’ve been studying the map. There’s a passage beneath the cliffs—the one no one’s ever found, not even the Yanuwah. It leads deeper into the earth, into a place where the roots don’t stop growing.”

Clara’s eyes lifted. “And you think it can take us to her?”

Ashani looked uneasy. “I don’t know. But it’s the only place the earth hasn’t bent yet. The one part of WildWood that hasn’t twisted. Maybe we can use it to find Emily.”

Clara grabbed her coat and turned toward the door. “Then we don’t have time to waste.”

⸻

The descent into the bowels of WildWood was a labyrinth.

Unlike the cave system they had navigated before, this was not a place that had been made by hands. The tunnels were not carved—they had grown, winding into the earth like veins. Everywhere Clara stepped, the floor beneath her seemed to pulse, as though the ground itself was alive.

“I should have seen this,” she muttered. “The roots—this is how it all began. The Yanuwah bound the forest to the earth, but they never finished it. They never sealed the seed.”

Ashani was beside her, silent but focused, her blade now slung across her back. She wasn’t certain whether she could fight what was coming, but she was ready to try.

Isla followed them, clutching the relic they had recovered, her eyes wide as she stared at the shifting walls. The deeper they went, the stronger the sense of wrongness became. The air was thick with salt and something else—something too ancient to be named.

“We’re close,” Clara said. She could feel it. The subtle tremor in the earth that spoke of something primal, something that had never been meant to be disturbed.

⸻

Back in the darkness beneath WildWood, Emily screamed.

Her body was a prisoner, held by the ever-growing roots that reached into her, tethering her to the creature that had slithered beneath the surface. Every time she tried to break free, the roots tightened, dragging her back into the abyss. It was no longer pain—no, this was something worse.

It was a voice.

Not in her ears. Not in her head.

In the very marrow of her bones.

“Emily…” It whispered again, low and slow. “You are mine.”

The darkness around her began to shift, and suddenly, she wasn’t alone. Shadows formed, twisting into figures that resembled those lost to WildWood—the lost souls, the ones that had vanished, their lives stolen by the roots. They whispered, but their voices were hollow, indistinct. Just echoes of things long dead.

And then she saw it.

The seed.

It pulsed within her. Not beneath her skin, not in her blood, but at the very core of her being. It had taken root in her soul, and the thing that lived inside of it was stretching, feeling its way out. Its hunger grew with every breath she took.

“I’m… part of you,” it said, not with words, but with memory. “I was always meant for you. You are the bridge. The key.”

The roots tightened around her chest. Her breath faltered. The seed was alive, and it was drawing the world into its nightmare.

But even in the overwhelming darkness, she felt something. A tug. A light.

It was Clara. Calling to her.

Emily fought it, fought the dark thing that was rising inside her. She wouldn’t let it win. She couldn’t.

She wasn’t just a prisoner of WildWood.

She was its last chance.

⸻

Clara, Ashani, and Isla finally reached the heart of the labyrinth.

The walls opened into a vast underground chamber. Above them, the sky was visible through cracks in the earth—twilight—and the roots above seemed to pulse in time with their heartbeat. The chamber was alive. The very air was thick with the stench of decay and salt.

And there, at the center, Emily stood.

Her hair tangled, her face pale, but her eyes—

Her eyes were filled with the force of something other. Something that wasn’t hers.

“Emily,” Clara whispered.

Emily turned. But it wasn’t Emily. Not anymore.

The seed was inside her.

And it was awakening.