The hallway stank of dirt and splintered wood.

  Elias stepped through what used to be a doorway and froze.

  Kaelen’s room was nearly unrecognizable—its walls groaning under the weight of a massive root structure, thick vines cracking through the stone, curling like the bones of some buried beast trying to dig its way up. The floor had caved inward, dragging chunks of the lower level with it. From somewhere below came the sound of shattered tables, sloshed drinks, and someone yelling about their lunch.

  And there—half-pinned against the far wall—was Kaelen.

  One arm trapped at her side, the other pressed flat to the tangle of roots curling around her ribs like ribs of their own. Her eyes were wide, not with pain, but with shock. Like her own body had turned on her and didn’t know how to stop.

  “Kaelen—!” Elias moved fast, navigating around the twisted wreckage, slipping once on a trail of splintered floorboards.

  “I’m okay,” she breathed out, though her voice shook. “I didn’t mean to—I just—”

  A groan from below. Someone pounding on the bar. A glass shattered. Then came the voices.

  Panic.

  It moved through the tavern like a ripple—some patrons yelling, some scrambling for the exit, others arguing with staff, demanding to know what kind of establishment let the ceiling attack people. But no one came upstairs.

  No one needed to.

  This wasn’t their problem.

  Elias reached her, crouched low, trying not to touch the wrong part of the vine-wrapped floor.

  “Don’t move yet,” he said. ““Let me make sure it’s not crushing anything.””

  Kaelen didn’t argue. Her breathing was shallow, but she nodded.

  He worked fast—slipping fingers beneath the main root holding her in place. It wasn’t tight, not anymore. Whatever had caused it to lash out had already passed.

  She looked at him, eyes unblinking. “It heard me.”

  “What?”

  “The plant. I was just... thinking, and it heard me.”

  Elias stared at her, then nodded once—because he didn’t have anything better to offer.

  He kept working—focused, deliberate—pulling the last of the vines aside until Kaelen could step forward on her own.

  She winced but stayed upright.

  “You alright?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she said softly. “Just… shaken.”

  The floorboards groaned under their weight, but nothing else moved. The vines seemed to be retreating on their own, curling back into the cracks like they didn’t belong there in the first place.

  Then—footsteps on the stairs.

  Heavy. Measured. Familiar.

  “Please tell me no one’s dead up here.”

  Rauel paused at the threshold, taking in the splintered wood, the ragged wall, the living roots snaking back through the floor like they’d never been there.

  He let out a low whistle.

  “Well,” he said. “That explains the screaming.”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Rauel hadn’t even finished his sentence when another set of footsteps pounded up behind him—faster, angrier.

  A man appeared in the doorway, breath sharp, face red with effort and fury. His apron was dusted with flour and ash, and a clean dishtowel was clenched in one fist like he meant to wring someone’s neck with it.

  He stopped short when he saw Rauel.

  “Rauel,” the man barked. “Tell me you didn’t drag this disaster in with you.”

  Rauel didn’t flinch. “Nice to see you too, Gorran.”

  Gorran—the barkeep, maybe the owner—took a step inside, surveying the shredded wood, the roots receding through the walls, and the gaping hole in the floor.

  “You gonna explain this,” he growled, “or just keep making it worse?”

  “I’ll handle it,” Rauel said simply.

  “You better,” Gorran snapped. “You’ve still got a bar tab from last month, and now half my upstairs looks like it got in a fight with a swamp.”

  His eyes flicked to Kaelen—just for a second. “That one’s dangerous.”

  Rauel’s tone didn’t shift, but something subtle cooled behind it. “And under control.”

  There was a beat of silence—tense, thin, but holding.

  Gorran finally exhaled through his nose. “You deal with the damages, you keep things quiet, and I’ll consider not tossing the lot of you out tonight.”

  He turned and stormed back down the stairs, muttering curses and floor repair estimates under his breath.

  Rauel followed, glancing over his shoulder. “I’ll handle him.”

  Elias nodded.

  He turned to Kaelen, her face pale and unreadable.

  “Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s get out of the way.”

  She didn’t argue.

  He led her down the opposite staircase, away from the noise. The tavern had thinned a little—some people gone, others pretending nothing happened. A few curious eyes lingered on Kaelen, but no one spoke.

  They sat at a small table near the back, just out of view.

  Kaelen kept her hands in her lap, fingers clenched.

  “I was just trying to practice,” she said quietly. “Like you did. I wanted to see if I could make something grow.”

  She didn’t look up.

  “I pictured a vine. Something small. Nothing dangerous.”

  Elias stayed quiet.

  “It responded,” she said. “Not slowly—not like I was coaxing it. It moved all at once. Like it already knew what I was asking.”

  Her voice tightened, frustration threading beneath it.

  “I tried to stop it. But the more I focused, the faster it grew. I didn’t even know it could move like that.”

  She hesitated.

  “And then it threw me. Slammed me into the wall. That’s when it stopped.”

  Finally, she looked at Elias.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I wasn’t showing off. I just wanted to understand.”

  Elias leaned back slightly in his chair, watching her for a moment.

  “I know you wouldn’t try to hurt anyone,” he said. “Not on purpose.”

  Kaelen didn’t say anything. Her fingers stayed locked together in her lap.

  “Mistakes happen,” he added. “Especially when you’re pushing into something new.”

  He glanced toward the center of the room where the floor above had cracked, voices still rising now and then from other tables.

  “I don’t know how this world works—not yet. But I know what it’s like to try something for yourself, and end up causing more damage than you meant to.”

  That got her eyes back on him.

  “And I know what it feels like when people look at you different for it.”

  He didn’t offer a solution. Just sat with it. The space between them didn’t feel heavy—just real.

  “You’re not the only one trying to understand,” he said finally. “We’ll figure it out.”

  Rauel returned a few minutes later, settling into the chair beside them with a quiet sigh, one hand dragging down his face.

  “Alright,” he said. “Gorran’s not kicking us out. Just Kaelen.”

  She tensed.

  “You’ve got until morning,” he said gently. “No screaming, no roots, no surprises.”

  Kaelen nodded once, clearly trying to hold her composure.

  Rauel leaned in, voice lowering.

  “I’d go with you,” he said, “but I can’t.”

  Elias met his eyes. Kaelen looked at him, confused.

  “I’ve got to sell what’s on the cart,” he said. “Trade goods for the village—stuff we need to make it through winter. If I leave now, I lose that chance, and they lose everything I came here to get.”

  His voice didn’t waver. It wasn’t guilt. Just fact.

  “But I’ll take you to the gate tomorrow. We’ll get your supplies, and I’ll pull what I need from the cart.”

  Then he gave them a nod.

  “After that, the carriage is yours.”

  Kaelen blinked. “You sure?”

  “Don’t have much use for it once the load’s gone,” Rauel said. “Besides, you’ll need it more than me.”

  He stood, rolling out his shoulders.

  “I’ll get you a room key,” he said to Kaelen. “If Gorran lets me live that long.”

  From across the bar, Gorran barked, “If she so much as cracks a window frame, I’m hanging your tab from the ceiling beams!”

  Rauel raised a hand. “That ceiling’s got enough cracks already!”

  He turned toward the bar, grumbling as he went.

  Kaelen sat quietly, fingers still interlaced in her lap, eyes unfocused.

  Elias stayed beside her, saying nothing.

  The tavern noise churned on in the background—lower now, more cautious. Like the place was still waiting for someone to yell.

  When Rauel returned, he dropped a brass key onto the table with a gentle clink.

  “End of the hall,” he said, looking at Kaelen. “Don’t worry—There’s no man-eating plants in that one.”

  That coaxed a small breath of a smile from her as she reached for the key.

  Elias stood then, giving her a nod. “Mind if I join you for a minute?”

  She blinked, surprised at first—then nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”

  The two of them headed toward the stairs together, quiet but steady.

  Not everyone is handed a clean introduction to who they are.

  Kaelen didn’t ask for what surfaced. She only reached for it—quietly, like anyone would—and the world answered back, louder than expected.

  This chapter wasn’t about fear. It was about reaction. About how fast things shift when people realize they don’t understand you. Or worse—when they think they do.

  The floor didn’t collapse because she lost control.

  It collapsed because no one ever taught her how to manage it.And that’s alright.You can’t know what you’re capable of until you try.