Unscramble Roots Novels & Stories

shhh' Did he just shuh me? Ladies and gentmen he did again before I could say anything, what..... Oh dear. 'Don't move' he whispered. 'O..okay..' I would never believe what I am currently seeing a plant with moving roots?! We stood still the root like snake passed us, funny how something beautiful could be dangerous. The roots had red flowers on it, I watched as it snaked around little animal before withdrawing. 'What is that?!' ' Shh' He seems to like that word, he looked around for any trace of the moving root, I looked to not looking forward to be dragged by moving roots!

' she sharpened her mind cutting off every superfluous thought as she crouched on the edge of the cavity. she slowly pushed her and began climbing deeper into the cave. the skin on her back and feet was scraped by something which moved faster than lightening. sara immediately moved in it's direction. as she went over it, she grabbed in its direction and steadily held on it. the root was elastic and it stretched when sara's weight fell on it, yet it didn't break. sara was relieved seeing that the root could support his body and hastily looked in her next direction to find a new one.

I said to the others as I made my way to the tree. “Of course, the big spoony tree is the answer.” I heard Vanessa mutter. We all rushed to the trees and began to examine it. Its roots were thick and tangled with each other, weaving into the earth. Something about it felt… alive. Vanessa knelt next to me and ran her hand along one of the roots. “Wait… it's hollow underneath.” Rowan wasted no time in bringing out his sword and driving it in between the roots. I heard a…shriek.

When they were all in position, Loria nodded once. Each of them dropped to their knees, palms pressed to the earth. The wind fell quiet. Then—life answered. Roots surged from the ground, not chaotic but deliberate. Thick, strong—like the spines of great oaks. Trees began to rise, drawn upward by ancient energy, their trunks wide and their bark rough like aged ironwood. Their leaves shimmered with dusky green and silver hues, like moonlight through armor. Some trunks twisted gently around one another—interwoven, like the pack itself.

Cassian swore under his breath. That was not comforting. Roots burst from the snow behind me. The path back began to close. Mara screamed my name. I spun. Black trunks slid together between me and my people. Slow. Steady. Immovable. “No.” I ran toward them. A root wrapped around my ankle and yanked me down. My knees hit the frozen ground. Pain shot up my legs. I slashed at the root with my knife, but the blade bounced off as if striking iron.

I put the pen down. The conclusion ends with Roberta and Robert at the maple — the same image the book opened with, returned to now with the full weight of the argument assembled beneath it. A child telling a younger child about roots. The roots doing their work underground, invisible, permanent, without requiring acknowledgment to be real.

The hollow shook as though the earth itself recoiled from the Root-Heart’s fury. Its sphere throbbed, vast and merciless, every pulse a hammer driving into my chest. Roots writhed in endless cascades, walls of living wood clawing toward us, their tips splitting into jagged teeth slick with sap. Each breath carried the stench of rot so thick it coated my tongue.

They were the roots of the Chain, the infrastructure that made the law enforceable, the mechanism that made escape impossible. They shattered not from force but from resonance, from the frequency of the Chain's glow matching the frequency of the roots' rigidity and canceling it out. The iron roots had never encountered a frequency they could not absorb, a force they could not withstand. They had anchored the weight of countless debts, countless obligations, countless souls who had tried to flee and found themselves dragged back by the irresistible gravity of unpaid balances.

Killian's tone left no room for argument. She hurried off and returned moments later with a pair of thick cleaning gloves. I pulled them on and carefully reached into the maid's apron pocket. The bundle was light. I unwrapped the cloth slowly, revealing several dried plant roots and leaves. My breath caught. "What is it?" Ken leaned closer to look. I held up the roots, examining them carefully. Dark, twisted, with a distinctive thorny texture. "Blackthorn roots." "Are you certain?" Killian moved to my side, studying the plants.

" I lifted the dead plant. The soil was bone dry, and every leaf had yellowed or fallen. I had bought that pothos on the day I moved into the new house, and Marcus had helped me water it for the first time. He had said, "Jules, this plant is like us. Once it takes root, it never moves." Roots. He had torn every one of mine from the ground.