We left Thorn Shade before sunrise. The village’s balanced scent followed us down the trail like a warm memory. Warm tones and cold tones blended behind us in gentle rhythm. The bitter tone stayed soft under everything like quiet soil. But as soon as we reached the old arch at the forest boundary the balance faded. The world shifted. The air grew heavier. The cold sweetness returned in thin waves drifting from the southeast.

Lira walked beside me her bow ready. The scouts followed with quiet steps. Their scents carried nerves. Mine carried tension. The fourth tone still pulsed faintly inside me from the Elder’s blend. It grounded my senses but also sharpened them. Every shift in the air felt larger now.

The forest ahead bent like tired trees bowing toward something deeper. The ground sloped downward. Roots twisted across the earth like veins. The scent of bitter echoes curled from cracks between the roots. Cold sweetness dripped from leaves like frost. Warm tones flickered small and weak. I inhaled with caution.

The path narrowed as we moved deeper. The air tasted thin. Light. Hollow. Lira whispered quietly asking if the fourth tone still guided me. I told her yes. The deep earthy vibration moved under everything like a hidden drumbeat. It kept pointing forward. Toward darker forest.

We reached a small ravine with steam rising from the soil. The steam carried cold sweetness on the top layer and bitter heat under it. I crouched and touched the ground. It vibrated. Slow and heavy. The fourth tone pushed upward but could not break through. Something blocked it.

Lira asked how we were supposed to find the Hollow Root if the forest shifted every day. I told her the fourth tone was constant when others changed. If I stayed focused on the deep vibration I could follow it even through wild distortions. She nodded even though the idea scared her.

We crossed the ravine and climbed the opposite slope. The sunlight struggled to reach the forest floor here. The air dimmed. Cold sweetness formed in thick clusters drifting between branches like pale fog. The bitter echo pulsed in the wind like a heartbeat. But warm tones appeared again. Tiny sparks. Weak but stubborn. They clung to small bushes that glowed faint orange.

I knelt beside one glowing bush. The scent carried faint warm sweetness under the cold fog. A survival tone. A tone fighting imbalance. The bush leaned toward a narrow canyon ahead. The warm tone whispered guidance. I followed its pull.

We entered the canyon. The walls smelled of stone dust mixed with mana bloom. Strange patterns carved themselves into the rock. Spirals. Lines. Shapes formed by mana pressure not human hand. Cold sweetness pooled inside the canyon like thick mist. Lira wrapped a cloth over her mouth. The scouts did the same. I held the black leaf close to my chest. Its bitter tone steadied my breath.

The canyon narrowed until only one person could walk through at a time. The air buzzed with tension. The scent of cold sweetness swirled around my head like ice. Bitter echoes crawled along the ground. Warm notes tried to surface but collapsed under pressure.

Suddenly the fourth tone surged.

It hit my senses like a slow rumble. Not painful. Heavy. Commanding. I stopped. Lira bumped into me but did not complain. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. The fourth tone pointed downward. Beneath the canyon floor. Beneath layers of twisted roots. Beneath old rock. A path hidden from sight.

I knelt and placed my ear against the ground. The vibration grew clearer. A deep pulse. A slow breath. A living foundation trying to surface through stone. I pressed my palm to the canyon floor. The bitter echo pushed upward trying to suppress it. The cold sweetness swirled over both like static.

I told Lira we needed to head right. A narrow split in the canyon wall hid a small trail rising and curving toward a cluster of ancient trees. Their trunks twisted like spirals. Their leaves blackened from mana pressure. But the fourth tone pulsed beneath them steady and strong.

We approached the trees carefully. Their bark held cracks glowing faint gold. Warm tone inside them fought to surface. I inhaled. The warm tone pointed toward a narrow tunnel hidden behind the roots. The scouts hesitated. Lira asked if I was certain. I nodded. The fourth tone hummed louder here than anywhere else we passed.

We crawled through the tunnel. The air inside felt thick. Bitter scent pressed close like walls. Cold sweetness gathered above us in thin streams. But beneath it all the fourth tone pulsed with growing clarity. Earthy. Deep. Truthful.

The tunnel opened into a cavern filled with roots hanging from the ceiling like long ribs. They glowed faint amber and deep grey. Warm tone and cold tone woven together in thin threads. Bitter tone flowed through the thick roots. All three tones gathered like a wheel struggling to form. But something stronger pulsed behind them.

The fourth tone.

It vibrated through the entire cavern like a hidden heartbeat. The roots moved slightly as if breathing. I walked slowly into the center. Lira stayed close. The scouts kept near the walls.

As I inhaled the fourth tone rose in full shape. Heavy warmth mixed with deep earth. A tone that did not rise or fall. It held steady like a pillar. A foundation tone. A tone that felt old enough to remember the world’s beginning.

Then the ground shifted.

A crack formed beneath our feet. A thin stream of cold sweetness burst upward. Bitter smoke curled around it. Warm sparks flickered like desperate fireflies. The fourth tone surged again trying to hold everything together.

Lira grabbed my arm. The cavern is collapsing she said. But I felt something else. The fourth tone pushed downward not upward. It wanted us to move deeper.

I told Lira the path continued below. She stared at me like I was mad. But I stepped near the crack and kneeled. The deep pulse vibrated from far beneath the cavern. Calling. Guiding. Demanding.

We needed to go down.

The Hollow Root waited.