Fantasy Clinic: Chronicles of a 3rd-Rate Doctor-Chapter 27: The Rootwalker Stirs
Chapter 27 - The Rootwalker Stirs
The clinic was too quiet.
Elric sat on the edge of his bed, the silver ring heavy on his finger, the sigil on his wrist glowing faintly — a heartbeat not his own.
Visions from the Root Throne haunted him.
And the warning echoed louder with every hour.
The Rootwalker was stirring.
---
Downstairs, Cai was drawing again—this time in careful circles—on the clinic floor.
"What are you making?" Elric asked.
Cai smiled. "The dreams told me. The Rootwalker is remembering."
He pointed at the image: a towering figure of bark and bone, crowned in red blossoms, with arms stretched wide over fields of frozen, rooted faces.
Keera knelt beside him, her ears twitching nervously. "The old songs spoke of it. The One Who Walks From the Soil."
Veyra tossed a bloody satchel onto the counter. "The scouts say villages are silent. Like breath stolen from the land."
Sylas unrolled an ancient scroll. "There are glyphs burned into the ground — ancient Bloodroot summoning marks."
Elric closed his eyes. "It's building itself a body."
---
That night, Elric sat in the cellar.
In the dim glow of the lantern, he placed the mountain mirror gently on the ground — the mirror that had once shown a false reflection during their journey.
He stared into it.
At first, nothing but his own tired face.
Then the glass rippled.
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And a shadow appeared — no features, no eyes, just a shifting mass of roots and faint crimson light.
A voice, soft and ancient, whispered:
"You carry the memory."
Elric's breath caught.
The voice was not menacing.
It was almost... welcoming.
"You were part of us once."
He touched the sigil on his wrist, feeling it burn faintly.
"I'm not sure what I am anymore," he whispered.
The voice coiled around him like smoke.
"You remember the roots. You remember Eliora. Join us, and you will heal what was broken."
Elric clenched his fists.
He didn't scream.
He didn't rage.
He simply whispered back:
"I choose to heal the future.
Not to be trapped by the past."
The mirror cracked quietly under his touch.
The shadow vanished.
Only his own reflection remained — tired, but still his own.
---
The next morning, Keera returned from scouting.
"They're moving," she said breathlessly. "The rooted ones."
"Rooted ones?" Lira asked.
Keera nodded. "Villagers, animals, trees — not alive, not dead. Walking echoes."
Elric's heart sank. "It's waking."
Sylas looked grim. "It's hunting."
---
They packed quickly.
Elric tightened the bandages around his glowing wrist.
The world wasn't just remembering.
It was reaching for him.
---
Far to the east, hidden within broken temple ruins, a figure knelt at the base of a tree made of bone and red blossoms.
Chains of bark wrapped her limbs.
Selene opened her eyes, a tear falling down her cheek.
"I remember," she whispered.
And deep behind her, the Rootwalker stirred.
---
