The soil ahead of them lifted in slow waves. Clods of dirt rolled aside. Thick roots twisted upward, shifting like the coils of a waking serpent. A tall shape pushed itself out of the ground. First came the shoulders, broad and covered in layers of bark that curved like armor. Then came the torso, built from intertwined roots that pulsed faintly with green light.
Ravel felt the sphere tighten inside his cloak, as if it leaned toward whatever climbed out of the earth.
The creature rose until it stood twice as tall as Seris. Its legs were trunks shaped into limbs, each step leaving a shallow crater in the soil. The torso bent forward slightly, supported by arms thick enough to crush a wagon beam. Its head was a large knot of wood with a smooth surface where a face should have been. Only a single horizontal slit ran across that smooth plane. Inside that slit, a gentle green glow pulsed like a slow heartbeat.
Seris steadied her stance. She lowered her sword slightly but did not sheathe it.
"A Deep Root Sentinel," she whispered. "Once protectors of the inner forest. They do not appear unless the land feels something significant."
Ravel's voice was weak. "And it came here because the Watcher chirped four times."
"That call was no simple alert," Seris said. "It was a summons."
The Sentinel turned its faceless head toward them. The green light inside the slit brightened. Ravel felt the air warm slightly, the same warmth that had passed through the ground. Despite its towering presence, the creature did not appear aggressive. Its posture lacked the tension of a hunter. It simply stood, observing.
Ravel tried to keep his voice steady. "What is it doing?"
"Listening," Seris said. "Sentinels do not judge with sight. They sense vibrations. They feel intention."
"Well, mine is mostly fear," Ravel said.
"That is not what it listens for," Seris replied. "It listens for what the sphere carries."
The Sentinel leaned closer. The sound it made was deep, not quite a growl, not quite a breath. A vibration rolled off it, moving through the air in slow waves. Ravel felt the rhythm in his ribs.
The sphere answered with a soft pulse.
The Sentinel reacted at once. Its head angled sharply, and the green light inside its slit brightened. Vines along its arms tightened. A gust of warm air pushed outward, stirring loose leaves on the ground.
Ravel backed away a few steps. "Seris. It knows the sphere."
"Yes," Seris said. She stepped in front of him, though even she looked small next to the creature. "But I cannot tell if that is good or bad."
The Sentinel reached out a massive hand. The fingers were thick roots twisted into a rough palm. It did not move to grab them. The hand hovered, open, as if offering or requesting something.
Ravel took a breath. "I think it wants to touch the sphere."
"Not without my approval," Seris said.
Another wave of sound rippled from the Sentinel. This one carried a more urgent rhythm.
Seris narrowed her eyes. "It is not asking for permission. It is stating its purpose."
Ravel grimaced. "What purpose?"
"To verify truth," Seris said.
Ravel pulled the sphere out slowly. The moment it returned to open air, the forest seemed to tilt toward it. The leaves rustled. The soil swelled slightly. The light inside the Sentinel flared brighter.
Seris whispered, "Hold it steady. Do not let fear twist your grip. Sentinels can sense conflict."
Ravel held the sphere in both hands, trying to keep his breathing calm. The red glow inside the sphere brightened, blooming outward like a slow ember.
The Sentinel leaned closer.
Its hand approached the sphere.
The moment the tips of its wooden fingers neared the surface, a thin pulse of energy spread outward. It was not painful. It felt more like a warm breeze brushing against Ravel's face.
The sphere reacted with a faint hum.
The Sentinel froze.
Ravel held his breath.
The green light inside the Sentinel's head shifted through several shades. Bright green. Pale yellow. Deep emerald. The rings of bark along its chest tightened, creaked, and loosened again.
Seris watched closely. "It is reading the sphere."
Ravel spoke softly. "What does that mean?"
"Forest spirits do not understand human language," Seris said. "But they understand memory. They can feel the echoes inside an artifact. They can tell if something holds life or death."
The Sentinel released a long rumble.
The ground answered with a low vibration.
Ravel felt the sphere grow warm again. The warmth crept up his arms and into his chest, steady and rhythmic. The sensation did not burn. It felt like being wrapped in a thick blanket on a cold night.
The Sentinel lowered its hand.
Then it stepped back.
Ravel let out a shaky breath. "So it is done?"
"No," Seris said.
The Sentinel dropped to one knee.
The impact sent a soft tremor through the soil.
Ravel stared. "Why is it kneeling?"
Seris's expression shifted from alertness to something close to awe. "Because the sphere is older than I thought. And because the Sentinel recognizes it. This is not a gesture of threat. It is a gesture of allegiance."
Ravel's voice caught. "Allegiance to who?"
"To whoever the sphere accepts," Seris said. She looked at him. "To you."
Ravel stepped back, stunned. "I did not ask for that."
"It does not matter what you asked for," Seris said. "The forest does not choose lightly. It sees you tied to something deeper."
The Sentinel lifted both hands, cupped together, as if presenting an invisible offering.
Ravel looked at Seris. "What does that mean?"
"It means it wants you to place the sphere in its hands," Seris said. Her voice carried caution now. "This step is dangerous. Whatever it plans to do, the sphere will respond. And there is no undoing that."
Ravel held the sphere tightly. His palms were slick with sweat.
The Sentinel waited, motionless.
Seris continued. "If you refuse, the Sentinel will leave. It will not harm us. But the forest will stay unsure of what you carry."
"And if I give it the sphere?"
"Then the Sentinel will unlock a memory inside it," Seris said. "One that might change everything."
Ravel stared at the sphere.
It pulsed once.
Slow.
Steady.
Almost as if calling him forward.
He stepped toward the Sentinel.
Seris did not stop him.
Ravel lifted the sphere and placed it gently in the creature's open palms.
The moment it touched the wooden surface, the Sentinel straightened its posture. Green light flared from its chest and head. A deep vibration filled the forest, shaking loose dirt from the tree roots.
The sphere responded with a flash of red light.
Trees bent toward the glow.
Birds fled the branches.
Ravel stumbled back as the sphere began to rise from the Sentinel's hands, floating in front of its wooden face. The glow from both sphere and Sentinel merged, weaving red and green threads of light through the mist.
Seris whispered, "It is awakening a memory."
Ravel shielded his eyes.
The sphere cracked open slightly at the surface. Not enough to break. Just enough for a glimpse of something inside.
A voice echoed across the forest.
Soft.
Ancient.
Neither male nor female.
"You have returned."
Ravel felt his knees weaken.
Seris froze.
The Sentinel lowered its head.
The sphere pulsed again.
The voice continued.
"The first signal stirs. The path opens again."
Ravel whispered, "What does that mean?"
Seris grabbed his arm. "It means your presence here is no accident."
The sphere dimmed slowly.
The light faded from the Sentinel.
The forest fell silent.
Only then did the sphere drift back down into Ravel's waiting hands.
It felt heavier.
Warmer.
Awake.
And whatever memory the Sentinel had stirred inside it had not settled.
It would rise again.
Soon.