The forest quieted as we approached Haustrasill. The air felt heavy, yet alive. Though the World Tree had towered on the horizon for days, its size grew with every step. Its trunk rose miles into the sky, a true monument. None of us spoke for a moment.
---Underoot---
Wint finally exhaled. “Hell, makes a man feel small.”
“How do you think I feel?” Pip said.
We followed the path upward until the roots thickened and curved over us like tunnels. The smell of sap and cool rain followed our climb, reflections of light in beads of dew moving with the slow rhythm of the tree.
Before anything else, we had to deal with Orwin.
He could barely stay conscious by the time Underoot came into view. The small village sat tucked between massive roots where the tree met the soil. There were a handful of homes, small gardens, and cooking fires. It seemed like a quiet and safe place.
Two Fivelli healers noticed Orwin right away.
“Bring him,” one said, guiding us into a long hut built from thick bark.
We set him on a low bed while they checked the wounds. The dark edges didn’t surprise them.
“The corruption leaves its mark,” one murmured. “But he’s got fight in him. He’ll rest here.”
Orwin forced a smile. “Go on. You have bigger things to deal with.”
Wint pointed a finger at him. “Don’t die. I didn’t carry you all that way for nothing.”
Orwin let out a weak chuckle. “I’ll be fine.”
We left him in their care and stepped back into Underoot’s quiet paths. It felt like a small-town stop in the middle of nowhere.
An alchemist’s shop was nearby, marked by a wooden sign. Inside, shelves of potions, herbs, and tools lined the walls. The smell of lavender and sulfur hit immediately.
Birch Hollowbrook, a spry middle-aged Fivelli with wild black fur, looked us over. “New faces. Tired ones. Brave of you to be traveling out there these days.”
“I don’t know if I’d call it brave,” Allura said.
Birch tapped a shelf. “Either way, you’ll want supplies that keep you upright. Stamina draughts. Wound salves. A tonic for when the forest tries to tear you down.”
We picked out what we could afford. Roe asked how far the corruption had spread.
Birch’s ears folded back. “Closer every month. Haustrasill slows most of it, but it’s pushing harder than ever.”
When we finished, she handed me a small bundle of dried herbs. “Burn these when the air turns stale.”
We thanked Birch and headed out the door, leaving the quiet village behind. The path climbed toward the massive base of the World Tree. The large, ornate metal gate marked the only entrance. It creaked open as we approached.
---The Root Market---
Inside, the Root Market stretched wide and tall. Stalls built into the inner bark. Walkways crossing the hollow center. Travelers resting on platforms above and below. Merchants shouted over each other. Fivelli sellers waved fruit and tinctures. Karnal traders argued loud enough to shake dust. If Underoot was a village, the Root Market was a city.
Allura paused to listen to a musician playing near a fountain carved from living wood. “Still playing the old songs.”
Pip drifted toward a fruit cart until Roe grabbed his collar. Wint accepted every free sample offered.
Most people didn’t travel deeper into Haustfyr. This was where they stopped. Where they felt safe.
We kept climbing.
---The Center Shoots---
Past the Root Market, the crowd faded. Bridges turned into narrow tunnels grown from bark. Glowing moss lit our way. Rest platforms appeared every few miles.
By the time we reached the Center Shoots, the day was nearly gone. A sign pointed to the 100 Rings Inn. We stepped inside briefly. Lanterns hung like fireflies, and the smell of stew drifted from the kitchen. It was a warm reminder of normal life.
At the far end, the path split. Those with official Sayer business took the lift, a hollowed root humming with magic. Others took spiral stairs carved into the bark. We chose the lift. It carried us upward smoothly, veins of golden light sliding past as we rose.
---The Sayer Canopy---
The landing at the top felt quiet and thin.
A small Fivelli in green robes waited, his fur streaked with silver.
“Welcome,” he said. “I am Rowan, Keeper of the Canopy. The Sayers have been expecting you.”
He studied us closely. “I came to Haustrasill two years ago, when the first signs appeared. I thought learning enough would help fix it. But I was wrong.”
Wint frowned. “So I take it’s been a rough two years?”
Rowan nodded. “Long enough to feel the energy of the land change. Places where the Sooth used to be loud have gone quiet.” The wall’s bark pulsed as he rested a hand on it. “It still listens, but something is suffocating it.”
His voice lowered. “It sounds different now. Deeper. Darker.” He watched the wood for a moment, then turned. “You’ll understand soon.”
He led us down a corridor of living vines.
“The Sayers keep this place together,” he said. “Come, Maple will explain what she can.”
The corridor opened into a chamber lit by the soft pulse of the tree’s inner light.
A table grown from the floor sat at the center.
“Please have a seat,” Rowan said. “She’ll be here soon.”
The air felt thick. Familiar, but strained.
Maple entered quietly, a small and calm Fivelli with a twisted wooden staff and large mushroom hat. Her robes draped on the floor.
“You’ve arrived at last. You carry the scent of blood and river water,” she said with her nose twitching. “You’ve survived more than most.”
“The corruption took over Greatfall,” I told her. “It’s spreading faster than anyone said.”
Rowan nodded. “We feared that.”
“Two years ago, Arad began to show signs of struggle,” she said. As she spoke, she raised her staff. Magical light spiraled upward, forming images of dark forests and burning groves.
“His strength holds this land together. Something started hurting him, weakening him. When that happened, the corruption pushed in. The Arcury were pulled back into the capital city of Caladhel. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. We sent our best Sayers to the Eastern Grove, but none returned.”
A quiet settled.
Pip shifted. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go to the Eastern Grove!”
Maple’s face tightened. “The land east of here is where the corruption is heaviest. The path to the Eastern Grove is the most dangerous stretch in all of Haustfyr. Twisted ground, shifting trees, the Sooth barely reaches it anymore.”
She lowered her staff slightly.
“And even if you reached the grove, no one knows what waits there. Every scout we sent vanished. It’s too risky. We can’t throw more lives into that darkness until we have the proper support.”
Rowan slid a parchment across the table. “Which brings us to you.”
He pointed west. “We need you to go to Caladhel. Speak with Mayor Nokrom Eldemont and convince him to send the Arcury. We’ll need their strength if we’re to stand a chance of purifying Haustfyr.”
Maple tapped her staff. “Once we have them, we can turn our attention east and face whatever is crushing Arad.”
Wint crossed his arms. “So we talk first…”
“…and then fight,” Maple said.
She looked at me. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The Sooth calling stronger. It knows you, and now it needs you.”
I didn’t answer. The hum in my chest said enough.
Roe sighed. “So, Caladhel first.”
I nodded. “If that’s what gets us to the Eastern Grove, then yes.”
Rowan bowed. “It was great to meet you all. Good luck.”
Maple finally lowered her staff, and the room brightened around us. “Now go! Haustfyr will remember your courage.”
We rose from the table and stepped back into the soft light of the chamber.
The others talked quietly as we made our way toward the exit, but their voices blurred at the edge of my hearing.
For a moment, I stayed still.
The pulse of the tree moved through the floor and into my boots, steady and strained. I thought about Arad fighting alone. About the Eastern Grove swallowed in darkness. About Orwin lying in a healer’s hut, trusting we’d make a difference. I thought of Baron making his stand in Greatfall, refusing to leave his people behind, and wondering if he’s okay.
All of them were counting on something to change.
At the same time, I wondered where I stood in all of this.
I wasn’t just a member of the HARP Expedition anymore. Every step forward pulled me deeper into something I barely understood. Arad was hurting, the land was calling, and whatever was in the east knew my name.