The path through the garden wound downward, sloping into a patch of earth shaded by tall beans and pepper stems. Fern brushed aside a curtain of dangling roots, revealing a small wooden sign half-buried in moss. The letters, carved in looping strokes and inlaid with sap, read:
"Greenthorn Borough."
Fern: "We're here."
The entrance wasn't much to look at—just a hole in the soil framed by thick moss and curling roots—but something about it felt welcoming. Beside the opening, a pair of pale mushrooms stood like lanterns, their caps faintly glowing though the daylight still poured strong. The glow was soft, barely visible under the sun, but Noah could imagine how bright it would look after dark—like stars guiding the way home.
Noah (quietly): "Feels like the earth is alive here."
Sprint (grinning): "That's because it is. Wait till you see the inside."
They ducked through the opening one by one, the air instantly cooling around them. The tunnel sloped gently downward, walls slick with moss and tiny filaments of glowing fungus. Their footsteps echoed softly as they went.
After a few minutes, the tunnel widened into a vast cavern that opened like a secret heart beneath the garden.
Noah stopped in his tracks. "Whoa."
The chamber shimmered with faint gold and green light. Dozens of mushrooms and amber resin pods were nestled into the walls, casting a warm glow that made everything seem alive. Ten or so homes circled the cavern's interior, their roofs made from dried leaves layered like tiles and their walls built from twigs, bark, and polished wood pieces. Each home was sealed with a glossy material that gleamed faintly when light touched it.
Noah: "What's that shine?"
Fern: "Resin. The stingless bees give it to them."
Sprint (nodding): "Good folk, the bees. Keep the Borough safe and dry."
A group of Gardenlings passed by carrying baskets of pollen dough. A few children laughed as they chased glowing beetles, while others tended to mushroom clusters near the cavern's far wall. The air smelled sweet—like nectar and soil after rain.
One villager, her apron dusted with pollen, looked up and smiled. "Travelers! You've come from Rootvale?"
Fern: "Yes, on royal business."
Villager: "Then you'll want the chief. He's been expecting company—though not from aboveground, I'd wager."
She waved them toward the largest hut at the far end of the cavern. Its roof curved like a seedpod split open, and faint trails of smoke rose from tiny vents near the top.
The trio entered the chief's hut and were immediately surrounded by the scent of herbs and sap tea. The walls glowed with lines of dried moss woven into circular patterns, and at the center sat an elderly Gardenling with a beard of silver-thread moss that almost brushed the floor.
He looked up, eyes twinkling.
Chief Budlen: "Visitors from Rootvale. My, that's rare these days."
Fern (bowing slightly): "Chief Budlen. Forgive the sudden visit. We seek passage to the stingless bees."
Budlen (smiling faintly): "Ah, Queen Nela's folk. You aim high, child."
He motioned for them to sit on small stools made from carved nutshells. Sprint did so gratefully; his legs were beginning to complain after the morning's march. A younger villager brought cups filled with clear golden liquid. The aroma was sweet and citrusy.
Sprint (sniffing): "What's this?"
Budlen: "Nectar tea. A gift from our bee friends. It warms the heart and sharpens the mind—at least, that's what they tell me."
Noah took a sip and smiled. "It's… amazing." It tasted like honey with heavy flowery taste.
Budlen's expression grew thoughtful. "Few outsiders ever come this way. The path beyond the chilli grove is dangerous, you know. Ant scouts prowl the roots, and the soil near the eastern ridge is thin. But if you must go to the bees, you'll want the old tunnel. My people still use it to trade pollen and resin."
Fern leaned forward. "Where does it start?"
The chief's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Beneath the potato beds."
Sprint blinked. "You mean… the potatoes we eat?"
Budlen: "Precisely. You'll find one that's hollowed through the middle. The bees helped us carve it years ago—it's stable enough to walk through if you're careful. Follow it east, and it'll bring you out near a chilli stalk. From there, the bees' hollow isn't far."
Fern (bowing): "Thank you, Chief Budlen. Your help means more than you know."
Budlen (smiling gently): "May the roots hold firm beneath your feet, young travelers. The garden watches those who respect it."
He stood, placing one mossy hand over his heart in farewell. They bowed in return, and the trio set off toward the far exit of the cavern.
The tunnel began at the back of the cave, where the ground rose into a mound dotted with fine roots and pale sprouts. A single opening gaped at its side, circular and smooth, the inside lined with fibrous skin that gleamed faintly under their lights.
Sprint (incredulous): "We're really doing this?"
Fern (dryly): "Unless you know a faster way to the bees."
Noah (grinning): "Well… at least it's organic."
The first step inside was squishy. The inner wall of the potato glowed faintly, golden veins pulsing like the threads of a living creature. The air smelled earthy and faintly sweet, like freshly cut roots. As they walked, their boots left soft imprints on the spongy floor.
Tiny droplets of sap clung to the ceiling, catching the light like strings of pearls. Every few steps, a worm tunnel branched off to the side, narrow and twisting, leading who-knew-where.
Sprint: "Feels like we're walking through someone's lunch."
Fern (smiling): "Be grateful it's not walking back."
Noah (touching the wall): "It's warm…"
Indeed, the potato walls radiated a faint heat, the rhythm of life moving through them even though the plant had long been cut from the sun. It was eerie and comforting all at once.
The tunnel sloped downward, then rose again. After what felt like half an hour, they began to notice fresh air filtering through—a hint of spice and sunlight.
Fern (relieved): "We're close."
At last, light appeared ahead—a narrow slit in the soil framed by red-green stems. Sprint pushed through first, then Fern, then Noah. They emerged into brightness.
They stood beneath a forest of chilli plants. The air was sharp with the scent of capsaicin and pollen. Brilliant red pods hung like lanterns from the branches above, glistening in the filtered sunlight. Tiny white flowers bloomed among them, each buzzing with the faint hum of bees in the distance.
Sprint (squinting): "We're back aboveground."
Fern (checking her map): "And not far from the hive. Maybe a quarter day's walk."
Noah: "That's good, right?"
Fern: "Good enough—if nothing else finds us first."
They shared a weary but hopeful look.
Half a World Away
Sunlight glimmered through lace curtains in Rose's kitchen window. The smell of tea and buttered toast hung in the air. A clock on the wall ticked softly—half past noon.
Rose stretched, rubbing her eyes. "Goodness, I overslept."
She shuffled toward the sink, filling the kettle. The quiet in the house felt unusual. No clattering of dishes. No humming from Noah's room. She frowned faintly, listening. "Noah?"
Silence.
She climbed the short flight of stairs and pushed open his door. The bed was unmade, the window cracked open to the garden breeze. His backpack was still there, but the old leather journal—the one that belonged to Oak—was gone.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "He must've gone exploring again."Still, worry crept into her chest. She stepped to the window and peered out at the garden. The air shimmered faintly in the heat. Down by the flower bed, the old gnome statue stood just where it always had, half-hidden under a fern's fronds.
But for a second—just one—Rose thought she saw light flicker around it. A pale, silvery pulse, like moonlight trapped beneath the soil.She blinked. It was gone.
Rose (muttering): "I really should cut back on the coffee."
She turned away, shaking her head, missing the faint glow that rippled once more across the garden's surface—like a heartbeat deep underground.
While Rose sipped her tea, the faint shimmer by the gnome grew brighter. And somewhere beneath those very roots, Noah and his friends marched toward the hive — and whatever waited within.