The Rootbound loomed over the grove, its voice shaking the earth like a drumbeat of doom. Vines lashed out, tearing through mushrooms and moss, leaving rot in their wake.
Cinder-ant stood firm, mandibles tight, antennae raised. “You were once a protector. I call on what’s left of that.”
The creature roared, swinging a massive branch-limb. Cinder-ant darted aside, drawing a shard of crystal sap given by the Myco-Moth Oracle.
Berry-leg hurled a bomb made from fermented bark beetle slime, exploding into a puff of healing spores. The Rootbound hesitated—groaned—and vines writhed in pain.
Then Cinder-ant drove the sap-shard into its core.
A blinding light.
Silence.
When the spores cleared, the Rootbound had collapsed. Breathing. Sleeping. Free.
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