Seren’s POVFor a long time, she dreamed of nothing but roots.Roots that bound, roots that breathed, roots that listened.They had grown through her bones and blood, whispering of all that had come and all that would come again. She should have been afraid. But fear was a luxury of the living, and she had long since become something else.When Seren’s eyes opened, the world bled red.The roots pulsing around her glowed faintly, alive with power that was not her own. Beside her, Theron lay still, half-buried in the same living cocoon. His chest rose and fell in a slow, unnatural rhythm — the Bloodwood’s breath keeping him tethered.She turned her head, the effort agony, and saw her reflection shimmering on the inner surface of the roots. Her face was pale, ethereal, her veins glowing silver beneath the skin. The mark of the Goddess still lingered on her throat, faint but unbroken.Alive. Somehow, impossibly, alive.The Bloodwood hummed a question in her mind.Why do you still fight, c
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