The tunnel breathed. Ethan could feel it beneath his boots—faint pulses that echoed through the stone, like a living heartbeat buried deep within the earth. Each throb sent a gentle vibration up his spine, reminding him he was no longer walking through the remains of a ruin but the veins of something alive… something ancient.
Beside him, Selene moved without fear, her steps silent. The glow of the root-veins illuminated her sharp features and shimmered along her silver-threaded braid.
"The Tree is near," she whispered. "Can you feel it?"
Ethan nodded, eyes scanning the way ahead. The walls were smooth here, almost glass-like, inscribed with spiraling runes that shifted when he looked too long. Some looked like stars. Others resembled the faces of people he'd never met—but felt as if he should know.
"This place…" he murmured. "It's like it remembers everything."
Selene didn't answer. She didn't need to.
They walked for what felt like hours, deeper into the earth, until the tunnel opened into a chamber so vast it swallowed the world.
The Heart of Avalon, it was a forest underground.
Massive roots, thick as towers, coiled and intertwined around a central pillar that stretched into the darkness above and below. It wasn't wood—it looked like crystal, glowing with a shifting spectrum of color. Between the roots, waterfalls of light cascaded into empty air, vanishing into nothing.
At the center of it all floated the Tree of Realms.
It wasn't what Ethan expected. There were no leaves, no branches. Just a towering spiral of glowing root and crystal, suspended by nothing, humming with power.
He took a step closer—and the world shifted.
His vision blurred, and suddenly he was standing on a battlefield. A sea of bodies. Soldiers in Serpent armor. Ember Guard fighters. Civilians. Fire everywhere. Screams. Smoke. Blood.
And at the heart of it—Vaelen Drakar, cloaked in black flame, holding a blade of burning root and steel. Ethan blinked—and he was back in the chamber. Gasping. Sweating.
"What… what was that?" he rasped.
Selene's voice was barely a whisper. "The future. Or one version of it. The Tree shows you what may come. What will come—if it's left unguarded."
The Seed of Power
At the base of the Tree, nestled between roots, rested a single seed—small, glowing faintly gold. Ethan felt its pull.
Selene noticed. "It's the Seed of the Realms," she said.
"It's what allows the Tree to anchor the boundaries between worlds."
"And Vaelen wants this?"
Selene nodded. "With the seed, he can overwrite reality. Destroy the veil between realms. Collapse time. Forge a world ruled only by power… his power."
Ethan knelt beside the seed.It pulsed as he touched it—and in that moment, he saw Earth. Skyscrapers crumbling under alien skies. Rivers flowing with red. Technology dying as magic surged unchecked. And Avalon—burning.
He pulled his hand away, panting.
"I can't let him have this."
"Then you must choose," Selene said.
"Take the seed, and he will come for you. Or leave it, and he may find it first."
Ethan stood.
"No more running."
He reached down—and took the seed. The Tree screamed. Not aloud—but inside his mind. A surge of raw energy tore through his chest. His vision flooded with images. Worlds. Timelines.
Infinite versions of himself—dying, living, failing, triumphing. And one moment, frozen in time:
A child with silver eyes standing at the edge of a realm he did not belong to.
Then silence. The seed pulsed in his palm, now cool, now still.
"It's done," Selene said. "You've become its Keeper."
Ashen in the Balance
Back in Ashen, Lyra stood at the gates as a second wave of refugees arrived—more than they could house. Tensions were high. Food supplies were running low again, despite Ethan's Earth shipments.
But the worst had just arrived.
A corpse had been found in the well—poisoned, face contorted in agony. Mira knelt beside it, inspecting the remains.
"The water's been tainted," she said.
"Someone wants a plague."
"More sabotage," Lyra growled. "The spy wasn't alone."
She looked over the village. Families. Children. Tired eyes. If panic broke out, the fragile order they'd built would crumble.
She turned to Tavren. "Shut down the wells. Get water from the mountain spring. And double the guards."
"What about the trader's ring?" Tavren asked
"We caught one. There might be more."
Lyra's voice hardened. "We root them out. All of them."
The Keeper of Worlds
Ethan sat beneath the Tree, staring at the seed in his hand. It no longer glowed. But something inside him did.
He could feel time differently now. Not as a line, but as a river—branching, forking, weaving endlessly through possibility. He could sense Avalon. He could sense Earth. He could even sense a presence watching him from afar—Vaelen.
But there was something else. A voice. The God of Creation again—whispering through the light of the Tree.
"You are the hinge between worlds now. Where you go, time follows. Choose your next step carefully, for it will echo across realities."
Ethan stood, his fingers tightening around the seed. He knew what had to be done. It was time to return to Ashen. And prepare for war.