Lahat ng Kabanata ng A Night at Wildwood: Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

The Core of WildWood — Where the Rift Bleeds Through They stepped out of the tunnel and into a cathedral of rot. Above them, the sky was wrong — not made of clouds, but of tangled roots pulsing like muscle, and torn open to expose a void beyond comprehension. Below, the altar Emily had once bled upon now crackled with black fire. The vines had formed a crude throne where a figure sat hunched, spasming in fits of unnatural movement. Vareth’kaal. Or what remained of him. He was unraveling. Smoke bled from his seams. His limbs twitched in broken, uneven rhythms. From his chest leaked streaks of golden light, not his own, but stolen — borrowed — from Emily. Her essence. Her defiance. It was killing him. Clara gripped the bone key tighter. Lucas whispered, “Do you see that? His chest— It’s like something’s trying to burn its way out.” Devon, pale with awe, added, “It’s her. She’s still inside.” Vareth’kaal rose from his throne, taller than before — but less stable. One of his

Hello! Before diving in I was just hoping to say I hope everyone has liked or enjoyed the story so far.. I know it’s changed a lot! I have decided this is the turn the story will take and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I have while working on it! Thank you all for the support! Now back to the book!! ————————————————-Long Ago — Before the Founding of Terrell The forest did not yet have a name. It breathed with the quiet of sacred things, watched over by those who knew the rhythms of root and sky, who spoke to stone and river as kin. The people — the Yanuwah — did not fear the woods. But they respected it. And they never went beyond the Hollow Hill after dusk. Not even the elders. Because something had fallen there, long before even their time — not a god, not a demon, but something stranger: a dream left unfinished, still writhing beneath the earth. And its name was Kaarayael. The Dreaming Root. It whispered in the soil. ⸻ The Healer and the Flame Ishtaya was

Ranger Station – Just Before Dawn Clara hadn’t slept. She sat at her desk surrounded by books — some borrowed from the Terrell Historical Society, others from the dusty back shelves of the town’s near-forgotten library, and one, far older, bound in worn deer hide. It was a gift. Left anonymously at her door six months ago. No note. No return address. Only a title burned into the cover in no language she could read. But tonight, when she flipped to its center, the same split tree symbol was there. Beneath it, in delicate, angular script: “Kaarayael. The Forgotten Root.” Clara exhaled, slow. The name vibrated in her skull. Just like the whisper from the forest. A call from below. She kept reading. ⸻ The Fragmented Record – Translated Excerpts “Before the settlers came, the Yanuwah spoke of two spirits: the Guardian and the Dreaming Root. One kept the balance. The other longed to become something else.” “The Root was not evil… but incomplete. Hungry. It did not understand dea

Old Creek Crossing – Near Dusk Clara hiked back from Hollow Hill with the fire still burning inside her. It hadn’t faded. If anything, it had rooted itself deeper, spreading through her veins like wildfire stitched into bone. Every step she took left a tingling print of heat in the soles of her feet. The forest no longer whispered to her — it watched. Aware. Wary. She stopped at Old Creek Crossing to refill her canteen. The stream there had dried up years ago, but a narrow vein still trickled under the broken bridge. As she leaned down, she caught a reflection beside her own: A face. Painted. Eyes like flint. Clara spun, reaching for the blade on her hip — but the woman had already stepped back, hands raised in peace. “You’ve awakened it,” the woman said. Her voice was low, sharp. “I felt the ember flare from half a valley away.” Clara didn’t lower the blade. “Who are you?” The woman stepped closer. Late thirties, maybe. Hair braided tight, feathers laced through in the ol

Deep WildWood — The Edge of the Threshold The ground had changed. The further Clara and Ashani moved into the WildWood’s heart, the more the forest stopped resembling anything earthly. Trees leaned at impossible angles. Bark had gone from deep brown to a pale gray, like the skin of something long dead. The leaves overhead no longer rustled — they hung still, as if holding their breath. The old ranger paths had vanished. Now, only roots marked the way — wide, veinlike things coiling through the dirt like exposed arteries. “We’re close,” Ashani murmured. “I can feel it pulling.” Clara nodded. The ember inside her had begun to burn hotter. Her chest felt tight — not from fear, but pressure, like something wanted out. “Clara…” Ashani paused, then lowered her voice. “What if what we find… isn’t Emily anymore?” Clara didn’t answer right away. Her eyes scanned the warped horizon, the way the trees bent away from some central point ahead, as though recoiling from something too ancient