The Keeper’s gaze lingered on Aric for a moment longer than necessary. Its tendrils twitched — not with hostility, but with the wariness of one predator recognizing another. Then, without another word, it turned and sank into the darkness beneath the bridge, leaving only the low hum of the air between the stone arches.
The girl didn’t let go of his arm.
“You were gone for… for too long,” she whispered. “I thought the roots took you.”
“They did,” Aric said. “And they gave me back.”
She tilted her head, confused. “You don’t look different.”
Aric didn’t answer. He didn’t need to — because he could feel the difference.
The amber warmth from the root’s gift still pulsed in his chest, slow and steady, like a second heartbeat. It wasn’t just heat; it was awareness. He could sense the bridge
