The Roots Remember
736 Words
The moment she stepped through the living wall of vines, Zaphira’s breath hitched in her throat.
The jungle pulsed. Not with noise, but presence. Roots shifted softly beneath her boots. Trees bowed just slightly—not from the wind, but in recognition. Leaves rustled like whispered greetings, and golden motes danced in the air, catching in her dreadlocks and crystal charms.
Kailo stood ahead, barefoot in the dark earth. The light that broke through the canopy wrapped around him like old friends.
He didn’t speak at first.
He just listened—to the hum of insects, the thrum of the trees, the breath of the vines.
Then, he looked at her, green eyes glowing with calm intensity.
“I felt you coming,” he said.
Zaphira’s brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”
“It means we don’t have much time,” he said, already turning. “We need to meet the others.”
“What others?”
He smiled gently. “You’ve dreamed of them, haven’t you? Maybe not clearly. Not yet. Meditation will help unlock it.”
She didn’t argue. Something about his voice—so still, so certain—cut through her usual defiance.
They walked.
The jungle didn’t fight them. It made space.
Vines parted. Flowers turned their heads. The very system of life breathed in time with Kailo’s stride.
Zaphira glanced around, wide-eyed. “It’s like the forest knows you.”
“It does,” he said. “I was born from it. The vines cradle me when I sleep. The roots hum when I speak. I don’t bend the jungle. It bends with me.”
They walked for what felt like hours, time tangled in sunbeams and pollen. And yet, she didn’t feel tired. Only… curious.
When they finally broke through the thickets, a village unfolded—tucked among the trees, built into bark and root and canopy.
People looked up as they passed. Some in awe. Others in fear.
Zaphira’s heart skipped.
“Are they staring because of me?” she asked quietly.
Kailo shook his head. “No. Not you.”
She turned to him. “Then…?”
He stopped and faced her fully.
“They fear what they don’t understand,” he said. “But they are good people.”
“But… this is your village. Your tribe. How can you be feared by your own?”
He smiled again—but this time, it was tired. “Even in a family… fear grows where knowledge is absent.”
She hesitated. “You sound like you know what that’s like.”
“I do,” he replied. “I know your village elders fear you too.”
Zaphira looked away. “That obvious?”
“You’re the strongest,” he said simply. “I’m not wrong.”
She didn’t reply.
The Venyari village council met in a hut formed by the hollow of a massive root—twisting overhead like a natural cathedral. The air was damp and heavy with incense.
Five elders sat in a half-circle, eyes shadowed under frond-woven hoods.
Kailo stood tall before them, Zaphira at his side.
“I bring word,” he said. “A threat stirs. A darkness long buried. We must act before it rises.”
One of the elders leaned forward. “And what do you expect us to do, Forest Son?”
“Accept her,” Kailo said, gesturing to Zaphira. “A bender of crystal. One of the Eight. We must find the others. Together, we stand a chance.”
Whispers rose like wind in dry leaves.
“Dangerous.”
“She’s untrained.”
“She will bring the Maw to our doorstep.”
Then one voice, sharp and full of warning:
“The prophecy is becoming true.”
Zaphira stiffened.
What prophecy?
She opened her mouth to speak, but the elder looked directly at her, eyes pale and unblinking.
“You are walking the thread of fate now, girl,” he said. “You cannot step off it—not even if you want to.”
Zaphira felt the pull again—that soft voice in her dreams, that whisper in the mines, that urge to run not away—but toward.
“What… did I get myself into?” she breathed.
Kailo reached for her arm gently.
“You didn’t get yourself into anything,” he said. “You were born into it.”
- Writer
