Chapter 2: The Guardian and the Golden Coffin

But what really threw me was Sasha. She just stood there—stone still, not flinching, not fighting, not even blinking.

She seemed to be waiting, her face unreadable, the chaos swirling around her untouched.

It wasn’t like the roots were giving her a free pass, or that she’d scared them off. No—Ethan, Julian, and Old Joe were actually circling her, keeping her shielded in the middle of the storm!

They formed a tight wall, eyes darting for threats, every muscle tense. It was wild seeing these heavy-hitters playing bodyguard.

My mind raced. Was Sasha the key to all this? Or was there something in here even she was afraid of?

Wasn’t Sasha supposed to be the powerhouse? Why did she need a human shield against these roots?

Or maybe, to her, these roots were just beneath her notice—hardly worth a flick of her finger.

Or maybe she was saving her strength for something even worse. Or maybe there were rules to her power we hadn’t learned yet.

“Over here! There’s a stone door!” Madison’s voice rang out, slicing through the chaos.

We all spun around to see her waving frantically, urgency written all over her face.

I realized Madison had made it to the far end of the chamber, standing next to a stone door about three feet high, set into the base of the tree.

It looked ancient—moss and lichen covering the surface, the edges worn smooth with age. The door was so out of place it felt like a prop from an old adventure movie.

A stone door under a giant tree—seriously, what was this place?

I half expected a wisecracking raccoon to pop out and demand a password. But the danger behind us was real, and there was no time for jokes.

We couldn’t keep up the fight forever, so we hacked and shoved our way toward Madison.

Every step was a battle—roots grabbing at our feet, bugs swarming our faces. We moved as a team, covering each other, swinging and slashing through the madness.

By the time we reached her, Madison had the stone door open and was already halfway inside.

She waved us in, her face pale but determined. When we made it, I saw relief flicker in her eyes.

“You go first!” Ryan called, planting himself at the door to cover our backs.

He stood guard, weapon up, eyes on the chaos—ready to hold the line for as long as it took.

Once we were all inside, Ryan yanked the stone door shut behind us.

The stone scraped closed with a heavy thud, sealing us off from the madness outside. We slumped against the walls, sucking in air.

I half-expected the roots and bugs to follow, but they stopped at the threshold, like something inside the door scared them more than we did.

It was freaky—watching them recoil, as if there was an invisible force field holding them back. I shivered, wondering what could make those things hesitate.

The corridor behind the door was tight—barely tall enough to stand, stone walls pressing in on both sides. The stones were huge, ancient, nothing like modern construction.

The air was cool and musty, and the walls were slick with damp—reminded me of the basement in my grandma’s old house, that cold, earthy smell clinging to everything.

We shuffled along for a few minutes, footsteps echoing in the cramped space, the tension ratcheting up with every step as the corridor widened.

But when we finally saw what was ahead, all of us stopped in our tracks, frowning in confusion.

The room was empty except for one thing, dead center, bathed in the faint beams from our flashlights. It was beautiful, but there was something about it that made my skin crawl.

A coffin made of solid gold, covered in strange symbols none of us could read, sat alone in the chamber.

The carvings shimmered, twisting into weird, alien shapes. It looked like something straight out of an Indiana Jones movie.

“Is this a tomb?” Mike asked, finally catching his breath. He was the first to step closer to the golden coffin.

He moved forward, curiosity getting the better of him, hand hovering just above the lid.

“Don’t—” I tried to warn him, but it was too late.

My voice bounced off the stone, but Mike was already lost in the mystery.

We hurried after him, but he’d already reached out and brushed his fingers across the gold, leaving streaks in the dust. I held my breath, half-expecting a trap.

“Think the amulet’s inside?”

He started to push the lid open, hands trembling with excitement.

The room seemed to hold its breath, every muscle in my body wound tight.

“Who’s there?!”

Suddenly, from behind the golden coffin, a voice rang out, and an arrow zipped toward Mike!

The arrow sliced through the air, fast and deadly. We all ducked, instincts kicking in.

At the same time, a tall man stepped from the shadows—bare-chested, wearing a leather kilt, a massive bow in hand. His skin was a deep bronze, and two bright feathers tucked in his hair. He looked like he’d walked straight out of a chapter in Native history.

He stood tall and proud, muscles taut, eyes blazing with suspicion and anger.

He fixed us with a stare that could cut glass.

There was a weight to his presence—a fierce authority that radiated from him, every movement deliberate and controlled.

Seeing him appear out of nowhere, we all exchanged wide-eyed looks.

For a moment, nobody moved. All you could hear was our heavy, nervous breathing.

I swallowed, trying to process what I was seeing, heart hammering.

Mike reacted first, dodging the arrow just in time—his super speed saving him from a nasty end.

He skidded across the stone, face pale but alive. “That was way too close,” he muttered, shaking it off.

Back on our side, Mike grumbled, “Jeez, trying to kill me in here.”

He tried to play it cool, but his voice cracked. He was shaken, no doubt.

The tall man swept his gaze over us. When we didn’t answer, he nocked another arrow and drew his bow, shouting, “Get out!”

His accent was unfamiliar—clipped, with a rhythm I couldn’t place, but his meaning was crystal clear: we were trespassers, and he wasn’t happy.

I’d seen enough Indiana Jones movies to know this was the part where things usually went south. Still, I tried, “Are you... the tomb keeper?”

I raised my hands, palms out, trying to show we weren’t a threat. My voice shook a little, but I forced myself to stay put.

At my words, the man’s bow swung toward me, his eyes cold and full of warning.

His grip tightened, jaw set. I fought the urge to bolt.

I quickly threw my hands up. “Wait, chill! We’re not grave robbers—we just got lost and fell in here. If you know the way out, we’ll leave right now.”

I rattled it off fast, hoping I sounded as desperate as I felt. No way did we want another fight.

He didn’t answer, just stared, then jerked his chin toward the corridor behind us, arrow still trained on our group.

The message was obvious: Turn around. Leave. Now.

We got the hint: he wanted us gone, back the way we came.

But the idea of facing those roots and bugs again made my stomach twist.

Madison spoke up, voice low and steady. “There are tree monsters out there. We can’t go back.”

Her words were calm, but her eyes were wide with fear. She wasn’t kidding—the way back was a death trap.

The man’s brow furrowed, like he hadn’t heard about the tree monsters before.

He glanced over our shoulders, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. Maybe he’d been here so long, he didn’t even know what waited outside.

Julian piped up, sounding almost impressed. “Wow—what kind of monster is this, even illusions don’t work on him.”

There was a dangerous glint in his voice, like he’d found a new challenge.

We shot him dirty looks. Julian had clearly tried to use his illusions on the man while we were talking.

I clenched my fists, annoyed he was already stirring the pot.