Chapter 1: Roots of Terror

Ryan’s words made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, icy and electric.

The air felt suddenly colder, and I felt a prickly dread crawl up my neck. For a heartbeat, none of us even moved—almost like the dark itself was holding us frozen.

We looked up, and that’s when we saw it: the tangled roots overhead were actually shifting, alive in the shadows.

At first, it was barely noticeable—a slow, unsettling movement, like the whole ceiling was waking up. The roots twisted and curled, weaving over each other, as if the earth itself had decided to come alive.

They writhed, snakelike, their motion both mesmerizing and deeply wrong.

The way they moved was almost hypnotic—sinister, like something you’d see in a nightmare you just can’t shake off. It was impossible not to picture them slithering down to choke the life out of us.

“Is this your doing?”

Madison shot Julian a look so sharp it could cut steel, her suspicion clear in the way she squared her shoulders and narrowed her eyes.

She planted her fists on her hips, her voice slicing through the tension. "Seriously, Julian, if you’re screwing with us right now, I swear—"

Before Julian could get a word in, I shook my head at Madison, trying to head off a fight.

I slid between them, doing my best to keep things from blowing up. “No, the root that grabbed Mike just now felt real—like, actually alive.”

“Besides, we haven’t even found the amulet yet.”

I tried to sound calm, but I shot Julian a look that said, Don’t even think about messing with us right now.

As I finished, I gave Julian a hard stare, making it clear we weren’t buying any of his tricks.

Julian just shrugged, but instead of his usual cocky grin, there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth—like even he was freaked out, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

“Now’s not the time for fighting. Not only are the roots moving—look at those green lights...” Sasha’s tone was cool as ever, but her words made us all tense up, following her gaze.

She’d cut right through the chaos, and we all looked up, hearts hammering, trying to make sense of what we saw.

Sure enough, the green lights weren’t just stuck to the roots—they were flying.

They zipped through the air, darting between the roots like fireflies on steroids, their glow throwing weird, jittery shadows across the dirt walls.

But they weren’t just lights—they were bugs, glowing and strange, and way bigger than any firefly I’d ever seen.

Each one was about the size of a walnut, with emerald wings that shimmered and legs that looked sharp enough to stab. The buzzing they made set my teeth on edge, like a swarm of dentist drills in my brain.

“It’s a shame Harper isn’t here. Her fire would’ve fried these bugs.” Sasha said it with a sugary smile my way, but there was a bite underneath—like she wanted to remind me I still carried the blame for Harper’s death.

Her words hit me straight in the gut, a sharp twist of guilt and anger. I looked away, jaw tight, refusing to let her see how much it hurt.

Madison’s eyes snapped up, scanning for any possible way out.

She searched the ceiling, her gaze darting from the writhing roots to the buzzing bugs, her breaths coming quick and shallow. You could see her brain racing, weighing our odds.

Now, going back the way we’d come—up through that grassy tunnel overhead—was basically a no-go. Even if we tried to climb, we’d have to get past both the roots and the bug swarm.

The exit we’d used had turned into a trap, blocked by a living, breathing maze. Only one way out now: forward.

“Heads up, everyone!” Madison barked, snapping us to attention.

Her voice was urgent, all business—like a coach right before the big play. We all locked in, adrenaline flooding our veins.

As she spoke, she whipped her belt off, and with a practiced flick, it unfolded into a long hunting knife—one smooth motion, blade gleaming green in the bug-light.

The knife flashed in her grip, steady as ever—Madison was no rookie at this.

Alex dropped into a crouch, rolling up his pant leg and pulling out a pair of claw knives strapped to his calf. They looked small, but the way he spun them in his hands said he knew exactly what he was doing.

He tested their weight, face set and focused. Alex always did have a thing for dramatic entrances.

Mike reached into his backpack and yanked out a hammer that looked straight out of a comic book—Thor’s hammer, right down to the fake runes.

He hefted it with both hands, grinning, but his eyes were wide. “Guess it’s time to go full superhero,” he said, half-joking, half-scared.

I slid on my steel claws, the cold metal fitting perfectly between my fingers, familiar and grounding. I flexed my hands, feeling a jolt of confidence—like maybe, just maybe, we had a shot.

President Turner had definitely covered his bases. Before we left, he’d let us hit up the Silver Hollow Society’s armory, picking out whatever weapons felt right—each one custom-made, solid, and deadly. I remembered the old brick building, the rows of gleaming weapons, and Turner watching us with that sly, almost fatherly smile. The guy was tough, but he never left us hanging.

Meanwhile, Sasha and her crew just exchanged looks and barely bothered to glance at our weapons, lips twitching with amusement. For them, steel was just for mortals—what mattered was power. But for us, a weapon was all that stood between us and the grave.

Sasha leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking bored. Her team clustered behind her, watching us like we were putting on a show. They didn’t need blades or hammers—they had something else.

Just as that thought crossed my mind, a root as thick as my thigh shot out of nowhere and lashed at us, fast as a striking python.

It came so fast it was just a blur, the ground shuddering as it slammed down, spraying dirt everywhere.

Ryan didn’t hesitate—he spun and hacked the root clean through, his blade making a sick, splintering crunch. Sap splattered across the floor, the root twitching like a dying eel.

But then all hell broke loose. Roots of every size exploded from the floor, the walls, the ceiling—turning the chamber into a writhing, snapping jungle. It felt like the earth itself was trying to swallow us.

We all fought like our lives depended on it—because they did.

Steel met wood, the clang of metal and the roar of voices bouncing around the tight space. I slashed at anything that came near, my heart pounding so hard I could barely breathe.

We dodged and hacked, but the roots just kept coming—relentless, wild, and everywhere at once.

There was no pattern, just pure chaos. Every time we cut down a root, two more whipped out of nowhere. Chop, duck, shout—repeat.

And then the bugs joined in.

They came in swarms, wings thrumming, their bodies glowing sickly green. I was swatting and ducking, desperate to keep them off my skin.

Suddenly, I felt a zap of pain in my arm—like getting tased by a wasp. I looked down and saw one of those bugs latched on, its mouth oozing acid that burned like fire.

It was sharp and electric, like a hornet sting on steroids. I yanked my arm away, panic surging.

Crap!

My heart jumped. I slapped at the bug, desperate to knock it off.

“Watch out—these bugs are poisonous!” I yelled, smacking the thing dead.

The bug burst with a nasty squelch, leaving a streak of glowing green goop on my arm. I wiped it on my jeans, cursing under my breath.

Then I noticed the bite was already healing—skin knitting itself together, the pain fading in seconds. Whatever was in those meds President Turner gave us was working overtime.

I spun around and saw Ethan—now a hulking beast—ripping roots apart like they were cardboard.

He was a one-man wrecking crew, muscles bulging, fangs bared, tearing roots to shreds and tossing them aside.

Old Joe was right there with him, swinging his axe like a man half his age, face set with fierce determination. Every swing sent roots flying.

Julian, usually the king of Jedi mind tricks, found his illusions useless on the roots, so he was hacking away with a black long knife, muttering curses as he fought.

He looked pissed, his usual swagger gone as his tricks fizzled and died against the relentless attack.