Chapter 16 - Chapter 16: The Green Gambit

Alaric slipped into the gardens at dusk, the sky bruising purple over Eldrathia's spires, the air thick with the scent of jasmine and the distant hum of crickets. Torchlight flickered from the palace walls, casting long shadows across the flowerbeds. He'd dodged dinner—too many nobles asking about the thrall—and needed space to think. The Greenheart's pulse thrummed in his veins, a restless itch he couldn't scratch. "Fine, let's play," he muttered, vines sprouting—seventy now, their tips glowing with emerald light. He evolved them into spears, their points shimmering, and slashed a tree, bark flying in a shower of splinters that pattered against the stone path. "Not bad," he grinned, then wove them into a net, snagging a low-flying hawk that squawked in protest. "Caught you, feather-brain," he said, releasing it with a flick. "I'm a plant ninja with extra steps."Mira joined him, her sword drawn, her boots crunching gravel. "Spar, weed boy," she said, her voice a challenge. He sighed, vines lashing—some tripped her, roots erupting to snag her ankles, others parried her blade with a clang that echoed through the garden. She ducked a thorn burst that shredded a rose trellis, then tackled him into a bush, thorns pricking them both. "Pinned you," she teased, her scar crinkling as she grinned, her weight pinning him in the dirt. He blushed, vines retreating. "Cheater." She laughed, pulling him up, her hand lingering on his arm. "You're fun, slacker. Don't change."A scout attacked then—claws slashing from the shadows, its roar shaking the leaves. Alaric's vines swarmed—eighty now—spearing its chest with glowing tips, thorns blinding its eyes in a spray of ichor. "Nap time, campfire!" he yelled, finishing it with a root that crushed its skull. Mira nodded, wiping her blade, her grin fierce. "You're growing on me, weed boy." He groaned, sap dripping. "Don't say that—I'm the plant here. Bad puns are my job."