Roots of Desire

  Prologue: The Roots Beneath

  The forest was restless.

  Wind stirred the canopy, rustling leaves that had listened to countless seasons pass. Beneath the soil, roots tangled deep, pulsing with a quiet energy. A shift had begun; subtle, almost imperceptible, but undeniable to those who knew how to listen.

  Far beyond the trees, lanterns flickered in the valley town. Smoke curled from chimneys. People moved through their lives, unaware of the whisper beneath their feet.

  But not everyone was blind to it.

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  A lone figure stood at the edge of the sacred grove, unmoving, wooden skin blending into the ancient trunks around them. The land spoke in the language of roots and wind, a murmur at the edge of thought. The rhythm of the forest had always been steady, but tonight, something within it was shifting.

  A memory stirred; old warnings, faded carvings on forgotten stone. The balance of the land was no longer as it had once been. Eyes drifted toward the town. The affairs of people were distant, insignificant. Yet now, something in the pulse of the earth pulled attention toward them.

  Miles away, a woman dreamt of roots.

  They curled beneath her, creeping through stone and soil, twisting in patterns she did not understand. Shadows wove through the trees, their voices just beyond reach. She reached out;

  And woke with a sharp breath.

  For a long moment, she lay still, listening to the silence of her home. The dream clung to her like damp earth. It was nothing. A passing thought.

  Still, sleep did not return.

  And outside, the wind whispered through the trees, carrying the scent of something long buried, beginning to wake.