The deeper Lysara led him into the Glades, the more wrong the air felt.
Not dangerous exactly—just aware. Every shifting branch, every faint pulse of light, every rustle of unseen leaves made Miles feel like the forest was adjusting itself around the two of them. Watching their movement. Interpreting it. Judging it.
The trees grew massive here—towering things with pale spiraling trunks and roots thick as walls. The canopy above blocked most of the sky, letting only slivers of silver-blue light spill through. Strange vines hung from the branches, their tips glowing like dim lanterns, pulsing in a steady rhythm that reminded him disturbingly of a heartbeat.
Lysara slowed near one of the titanic trees, its trunk so wide Miles couldn't have circled it with ten people linking arms.
"This Heartroot is old," she said quietly, placing a hand against the bark. The tree pulsed faintly under her palm. "Even the elders of my kind do not know its first seed."
Miles blinked upward. The branches stretched so high he couldn't see where they ended. "It feels… big."
"That is one word for it." She stepped toward a sweeping arch formed by one of the tree's colossal roots. "Come. Beneath, it shelters."
"Shelters from what?"
She didn't answer.
Miles followed anyway.
The entrance was narrow, forcing him to duck beneath a thick curtain of moss-like fibers. The moment he stepped through, the temperature dropped into a cool, comforting chill. The air smelled of sap, earth, and something clean and sweet—like the inside of a cedar chest mixed with rainfall.
Light glowed from natural veins of luminescent resin streaking through the wood. The hollow itself was roughly circular, the floor smoothed either by tools or time. Bundles of dried leaves and herbs hung from knots in the bark. Shelves, carved directly into the tree, held strange trinkets and polished stones. A shallow pool in the center glowed with soft, turquoise light, casting pale reflections on the interior walls.
It felt like stepping into a living sanctuary.
Lysara set her bow and quiver onto a carved rest. "Rest. The Heartroot accepts us for now."
"Accepts us?" Miles echoed. "Do I want to know what happens if it… doesn't?"
"It folds its roots inward," she said simply. "And crushes the intruders. Slowly."
He stared. "…Got it. Careful not to offend the giant murder-tree."
She gave a soft exhale that might have been amusement.
Miles sat on one of the flat stone slabs arranged around the glowing pool, rubbing his arms as the last adrenaline shakes from the Shadehounds worked their way out of his system. "Those things… they weren't normal wolves, right?"
"No." Lysara crouched by the pool, cupping her hands in the glowing water and drinking. "Shadehounds are part flesh, part shadow. They hunt disruptions. Distortions. Paths changed by a stranger's presence."
He swallowed. "So they were hunting me."
She didn't deny it.
Miles pressed his palms to his face. "This place is insane."
"Not insane," she corrected gently. "Alive. And unkind to the careless."
Before he could reply, a flicker shimmered at the edge of his vision like a glitching hologram.
The System.
[Adaptive Crafting Activated]
[Environmental Materials Identified Nearby]
[Lumishard Sap — Reactive / Condensable]
[Gladefiber Bark — Flexible / Bindable]
[Miststone Fragments — Stable Conductor]
Miles lowered his hands. "It's scanning the room."
Lysara looked up. "The System?"
"Yeah. It's labeling stuff on its own."
He pointed at a patch of soft glowing resin along the wall. "That… what do you call that?"
"Lumishard. It binds things when exposed to heat and glows when submerged in water. Unstable on its own." She stood and walked closer. "It is used for mending or sealing wounds on wood."
The System chimed:
[Hazard Rating: Mild]
[Material Compatible with User Skill]
Miles pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's like… like having a built-in crafting HUD."
"A… hud?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Uh—like instructions." He gestured vaguely. "Hints. Advice. But it's not like it tells me exact steps. More like… intuition ramps up when I touch something."
Lysara studied him with renewed interest. "Show me."
Miles hesitated, then stepped to a small wooden rack. A strip of thin bark hung from one peg, faintly shimmery.
The System highlighted it.
[Gladefiber Bark — Unshaped Potential Detected]
[Durability: Low | Flexibility: High]
[Suggested Use: Binding / Weaving]
He reached out.
The moment his fingers touched the bark, a sensation spread through him—like invisible lines had formed between his mind, his hands, and the material itself. Shapes formed behind his eyes, possibilities blooming in soft outlines.
He could feel how the bark wanted to bend, twist, and fold.
Lysara leaned closer, golden eyes intent. "You sense its form?"
"Not sense," Miles said slowly. "More like… imagine clearly. It's telling me what it could be. Or what it wants to be."
"That is the art of many craftsmen," she murmured. "Learned through decades."
"Pretty sure mine is cheating."
"Perhaps. But useful cheating."
Miles sat on one of the stone slabs and held the bark in his lap. Slowly, carefully, he folded, twisted, and looped it, following the intuitive nudges. Each movement felt almost obvious. Natural. Like assembling a puzzle with half the pieces already in place.
Lysara watched, silent and unblinking.
Within a minute, Miles held a small woven harness with braided cords and fitted notches.
He stared at it.
"What… is this?"
"A burden sling," Lysara said softly. "For carrying herbs or small prey. Efficient. Balanced." She took it from him gently. "You made this with one piece of bark."
"And no tools."
She exhaled through her nose—something like disbelief and respect mingling. "Your System gifts you with more than warnings."
Miles tried not to be unnerved by how light and strong the thing felt. "This still freaks me out."
"It should," Lysara said. "Power always should."
The System flickered again:
[Skill: Adaptive Crafting — Level Increased]
[New Insight: Shape Recognition]
[Objects with Structural Weakness or Enhancement Potential Will Highlight]
A faint shimmer lit the edge of one of the tools on the wall.
Lysara followed his gaze. "You see something."
"Your knife," he said. "The handle's cracked."
She blinked once. "Yes. I have not had time to mend it."
"It's… glowing. A little."
She stepped to the rack and pulled down a small knife. The blade was clean and sharp, but the wooden handle had a thin split running along its side.
"If the System encourages you," she said, offering it, "fix it."
Miles held the knife gingerly. "What if I screw it up?"
"You will not," Lysara said. "The System would not show you a path that leads to ruin."
"Bold claim."
She gave a small shrug. "Magic rarely wastes its breath."
He knelt by the glowing pool, the knife resting in his hands. The shimmer intensified. Instinct whispered: something nearby will help repair this.
He scanned the hollow.
One material pulsed with soft, inviting light: a cluster of Lumishard sap beads gathered inside a small stone bowl.
"Is that safe?" he asked.
"Lumishard?" Lysara inspected the bowl. "Yes. It adheres, hardens, and fuses. Used properly, it strengthens wood."
Miles dipped his fingers into the resin. It was cool and jelly-like, glowing faintly at his touch.
Immediately the System reacted:
[Material Acquired: Lumishard Sap]
[Action: Repair Enhancement]
[Difficulty: Low]
[Projected Result: Handle Reinforcement + Minor Stability]
Miles's heart picked up speed. He aligned the sap over the crack and pressed.
Warmth spread through the handle—not heat, not burn, but something else. Something alive, responsive. The sap flowed into the fissure like liquid light, filling it, bonding with the wood.
He felt the material shift under his hands.
Strengthen.
Solidify.
Set.
The sap hardened quickly, sealing the crack seamlessly. The glow faded, leaving the handle looking nearly new.
Lysara leaned down to inspect it. Her eyes widened a fraction. "That repair is… cleaner than anything I could have done."
Miles handed her the knife. "It feels better."
She tested the grip, flicked the blade with her thumb, then slid it smoothly back into its sheath.
"You improved it," she said simply. "This is more than a skill. It is potential."
Miles sat back, breath shaking slightly. "I didn't even know I could do that."
"Few ever do," she murmured.
He stared at his hands. "Adaptive Crafting… feels like cheating. But also like… like I'm supposed to build something."
Lysara studied him with a depth he couldn't quite decipher. "The System marks you as Nobody. Yet gifts you with ability. Perhaps that contradiction is the root of its purpose."
Miles rubbed his palms on his pants, nervous energy buzzing through him. "Is that… good?"
"Good or bad," she said, "depends on who sees it."
The forest outside the hollow rustled faintly, shadows shifting—but not in the way normal leaves moved. The sound was too rhythmic. Too deliberate.
Miles stiffened. "Did something move?"
Lysara's hand went to her bow immediately, though she didn't draw it. "The Heartroot stirs. It senses alteration."
"You mean my crafting?"
"Yes." She looked toward the hollow's entrance. "The Glades do not ignore change. Even small."
The System flickered again.
[Status Update: Skill Integration Success]
[Environmental Response Detected]
[Tracking Signal Strengthening]
Miles's stomach dropped. "Tracking? From who?"
Lysara's eyes hardened. "Not Shadehounds. Something older."
"Older than shadow wolves?"
"Yes."
Miles's pulse pounded. "We need to move?"
"No," she said. "Running will stir the Glades more. We stay quiet. We wait." She set a hand on his shoulder—firm, steady. "Tonight, you remain in the Heartroot. It will not kill those under my protection."
"That's comforting," he muttered.
"It should be." She stepped back, golden eyes narrowing. "Because whatever follows you… is not done."
Miles swallowed hard.
And the forest outside shifted again.
Whatever waited out there was getting closer.
And it wanted him.