The hollow roared with swirling mana as all four tones clashed in frantic motion. Warm red light surged upward then collapsed into cold silver frost. Bitter black smoke spiraled like veins wrapping around the chamber. And deep gold radiance pulsed at the core like a heartbeat older than mountains. Lira pulled me back but the fourth tone inside me steadied my legs. I whispered that the awakening was not an attack. It was a transformation.

The presence inside the hollow shifted its shape again. The swirling mana formed a rotating sphere of colors. Warm. Cold. Bitter. Deep. The voice spoke through flavor instead of sound. It tasted like distant storms shaking mountains. It tasted like ancient roots breaking through stone. It tasted like truth rising through darkness.

The forest breathes because I breathe
The corruption spreads because I stirred
The cold sweetness is my cry
The bitter echo is my restraint
And the warm tone is the memory of creation
You must taste them all

My chest tightened. My senses reached deeper into the swirling tones. I could feel the cold sweetness as thin sharp spirals pressing upward from the ground. I could feel the bitter echo twisting through the roots like heavy chains. I could feel the warm tone flickering like a candle running out of fuel. And the fourth tone pulsed beneath everything trying to keep the wheel from breaking.

The sphere cracked and reformed. A new current of scent burst outward. A wave of warm stone and rising heat. The cavern shook. One of the scouts slipped and hit the ground. Lira dragged him back behind a thick hanging root. The bitterness spread across the floor like crawling smoke. The cold sweetness snapped like thin ice under sunlight.

The deep tone trembled as if in pain.

I stepped closer. My body moved before my mind caught up. My senses aligned with the fourth tone. The air thickened around me. I raised my hands. I whispered softly. I am listening.

The sphere responded. The warm tone reached for me like a soft breeze. The cold tone brushed my cheek like frost. The bitter tone pressed against my chest like dense stone. The deep tone wrapped around my senses like a mantle.

The presence communicated again.

The forest will fracture
The balance will break
Unless the wheel turns freely
Unless you decode the tones
Unless you learn the fourth flavor
The one beneath the world

The mana swirled faster. The cavern walls cracked. Golden flakes rained from the ceiling. Bitter smoke thickened. The cold sweetness turned sharper. The warm tone dimmed.

I whispered. How do I decode the fourth flavor. The presence surged. The air twisted. A burst of cold wind lifted dust into the air. The tones slammed against each other in a violent spiral. My vision blurred.

The answer rose like a whisper at the edge of my tongue.

Taste the world
Taste its fear
Taste its truth
Taste its beginning

Taste the Hollow Root

The cavern floor split open beneath the sphere revealing an enormous root glowing with pulsing gold. Warm and cold lines moved along it like blood vessels. Bitter cracks spread along its surface. The fourth tone radiated from it steady but fading like a heartbeat losing strength.

The presence withdrew into the cracks. The sphere dissolved into drifting particles of mana. The tones scattered across the chamber. Warm sparks flickered like dying embers. Cold sweetness leaked slowly. Bitter smoke seeped into shadows. The deep tone sank into silence.

The awakening paused.

I stumbled back gasping. Lira grabbed my arm. She asked if I was hurt. I shook my head. My tongue still pulsed with the fourth tone. My chest felt heavy. My breath tasted like golden earth and deep roots.

The presence was gone. But the world had changed.

The scouts looked at me with wide shaken eyes. They did not understand what happened. Lira did. At least partly. She whispered. The deep core spoke to you.

I nodded slowly.

She asked what it said.

I stared at the glowing massive root stretching deeper than sight.

It said the beginning is dying
And it wants me to taste the truth before the world breaks