The twisted roots and jagged stones crowding the leyline's center clawed at the earth like something hungry for more than just space. It wasn't simply a tangle — it was a crushing weight, a slow grinding that threatened to squeeze everything soft into dust. Verek's boots sank slightly in the churned soil, the ground feeling alive beneath him, pressing in with a cold, patient hunger. This place wasn't just old; it was waiting.
The air tasted sharp, as if the world itself resented their breath. Electric with threat, it bit through the fabric of Verek's cloak, scraping his lungs raw with every inhale. The map, clipped to Ezreal's belt, pulsed beside him, a stubborn heartbeat that tugged relentlessly forward. That crooked rhythm kept pulling them deeper, into a place that didn't just exist—it watched, it remembered, it judged.
Verek's fingers curled around the haft of his axe. He scanned the shadows, his gaze snapping from root to root, every twitch making his skin crawl. "Feels like we're stepping into a beast's jaws," Caylen muttered nearby, voice rough as gravel. "Like the dirt's just waiting to snap shut."
Verek didn't argue. The knot of unease in his gut tightened. This wasn't natural. Not by a long shot.
Dax's hand flexed around his sword, steel gleaming faintly in the dull light. "Good," he said with a fierce edge, "Let it wait. We'll break its teeth."
Verek's eyes flicked to Ezreal, slow and deliberate in his pace, like each step had to be earned. The crystal on Ezreal's belt wasn't steady—it jittered, sputtered, as if in pain under the roots' creeping grasp. Those roots writhed and twisted, like sentient claws curled tight around something precious.
The leyline's hum was ragged, a low snarl beneath the earth. It wasn't welcoming. It was warning.
Suddenly, the silence fractured—sharp and brutal, like bone snapping. A root groaned beneath Caylen's boot, not earth but breath, slow and deliberate. And then the roots lunged.
Glowing vines exploded upward, coiling like a waking snake, slow but unstoppable. They moved with a patience bred of certainty. Verek's heart hammered. This was no wild growth. This was a trap.
"Roots," Ezreal barked, blade flashing white as he yanked free his dagger. One vine snaked up, wrapping tight around Ezreal's ankle, jerking him down. Cold fire bit into his calf, heat that singed the soul.
Verek moved instantly, gripping his axe with both hands, carving into the grasping vines with hard, hungry swings. "Hold steady!" he shouted, voice low and commanding. "Don't let them wrap you up!"
Dax moved in like a storm unleashed, his sword blurring in wide arcs of death. "Move your feet!" he barked. The sound was raw and unyielding—no room for hesitation here.
Caylen twisted free from a vine's grasp, snarling, magic flaring beneath his skin like crackling lightning. "This isn't just nature. It's alive. Enchanted. Furious."
Verek's gaze snapped to the shard nestled in Ezreal's side pouch. It pulsed with a cruel rhythm, matching the wild beat of the vines. The shard was calling this out. Or maybe it was waking something worse.
"We don't stop," Verek growled. "Not now. The shard's close."
The deeper they pushed, the heavier the air pressed down, thickening until it felt like it would suffocate. It slipped under their skin, seeped into their thoughts. Voices whispered just beyond hearing—laughter, pleading, twisting their minds. Shadows flitted at the edge of vision, half-formed and wrong.
Then a roar shattered the tension—a sound like stone breaking under siege.
From the darkness, it tore free.
A monstrous thing, limbs of twisted bark and root, joints cracked and leaking molten sap that glowed like fire trapped in wood. Its eyes burned like embers, empty and merciless.
"Hold the line!" Dax shouted, stepping forward, sword raised like a challenge.
Verek met the creature's charge head-on, axe swinging in brutal arcs that bit into its flesh of wood and flame. Bark cracked, chunks flew, but it barely flinched. The creature was a force of nature, slow but devastating.
Caylen fired arrows into its glowing joints, pinning it where he could, but the thing lashed out. A thorned limb caught Caylen's arm, ripping through leather and skin. Blood welled dark and hot.
"Shit," Caylen hissed, stumbling back.
Verek's axe sang through the air again, each strike a desperate plea for survival. Sweat carved cold tracks down his temples as he fought not just the monster, but the creeping dread that this battle was just the beginning.
"We end this here," Verek growled. "No leaving empty-handed."
Dax didn't hesitate, driving his blade deep into the beast's chest. Sap sprayed like poison. The creature's final howl shattered the clearing before it collapsed, lifeless.
Roots snapped, vines withered. The magic stuttered, then faded.
Silence fell again, thick and suffocating.
Verek breathed hard, eyes scanning the ruined ground. The leyline still thrummed beneath them, uneasy and restless.
"This place isn't just cursed," Verek said low, voice rough with exhaustion. "It's guarding something."
Caylen pressed a hand to his bleeding arm, grim and silent.
"The shard," Verek added, voice tighter now. "It's beneath us. I can feel it."
Their steps slowed, nerves fraying as the leyline's magic thickened. The clearing cracked open, scorched red and pulsing from below.
At the center, half-buried and glowing with stubborn life, was the shard.
Ezreal stepped forward, hand reaching out, then stopped as a voice sliced through the air.
"You seek what should stay buried."
From the treeline stepped a figure, cloaked in ash-gray robes, eyes glowing faintly with a dying fire. The cold spilled into the clearing, sharp and biting.
"I am the guardian," the figure said, voice like carved stone. "Turn back or pay the price for unrooting what must remain sealed."
Dax stepped up beside Verek, sword low, eyes flint-bright.
"We're too far in," Verek said, voice steady and hard. "The shards are moving, whether we like it or not."
The guardian's gaze didn't waver.
"Then nothing ahead will be kind."
Verek tightened his grip on his axe, eyes locked on the figure.
"We're not chasing power," he said quietly, "We're stopping something worse."
The guardian studied them long, then stepped aside.
"You may take it," the guardian said. "But each shard carries the weight of gods. Every one you claim drags you deeper into a storm no mortal walks out of clean."
Verek watched as Ezreal crouched, fingers brushing the shard.
It was hot. Wrong. Alive.
"We'll carry that weight," Verek said, voice low but fierce. "Because no one else will."
Red light spilled across their faces as Ezreal lifted the shard.
Beyond the roots and shadows, the forest wind whispered, knowing what they'd done.
The shard was theirs.
But the storm was coming.