Ti to dig.
Isabella stepped right up to the beast’s spine, the faint glow of the Mountain Dew still shimring across her fingers. The Ashvine Root pulsed along the bone like a slow heartbeat—thick, purple, ancient. Up close, it didn’t look like a plant. It looked like sothing that crawled.
Sothing that waited.
Osiris stood behind her, arms folded, watching her with that impossible mixture of confusion, irritation, and... sothing else he refused to na.
He hated her.
Obviously.
She hated him.
Obviously.
But the mont she walked toward the pulse of ancient danger, sothing inside him—sothing beastly, sothing instinctual, sothing primal—growled softly under his ribs.
Stay close to her.
He ignored it.
Mostly.
Glimora didn’t ignore anything. The tiny creature pressed herself against Isabella’s leg, trembling lightly, eyes wide as she stared at the Ashvine Root.
"Pip..." she whispered nervously.
Isabella reached down absently and patted her head. "It’s okay, baby. I’ve got this."
Osiris snorted softly. "You say that like you don’t almost die every ten minutes."
She didn’t even turn around. "Keep talking and I’ll test sothing on you."
He shut his mouth but stayed close. Too close. Isabella was painfully aware of his presence like he was a walking heat source in a freezing world.
She shoved that feeling aside.
She had work to do.
She crouched by the spine. The Ashvine Root twitched when she got close—like a snake sensing prey.
Isabella froze.
"...did it just move?"
Osiris leaned slightly, eyes narrowing. "Yes."
"Why didn’t you tell ?"
"You didn’t ask."
She glared over her shoulder. "Osiris, I swear—"
The root twitched again.
She whipped her head back down.
Alright. Fine. It moved. It breathed. It probably hated her. Whatever.
She plunged her fingers toward it.
The root jerked away with a soft skrrrkkk, pulling itself deeper between the bone cracks.
"Oh, you’ve GOT to be joking," Isabella muttered.
She dug again—fingers scraping bone, nails dragging across jagged edges as she tried to catch the vine before it burrowed deeper.
The root squird.
She grabbed it.
It slipped away.
She grabbed it again.
It kicked her hand.
"OW—YOU LITTLE—!"
Osiris blinked. "...It kicked you?"
"YES IT KICKED ."
He tilted his head like he was fascinated. "Roots don’t usually—"
"This one is SENTIENT." She lunged forward and grabbed it again. "Hold still you glorified noodle—!"
It wriggled violently.
The bone around it cracked faintly.
Isabella winced but tightened her grip. The dew coating her hands glowed brighter, reacting to the root’s energy.
Her fingers dug deeper—no tools, no magic, just raw determination and a WHOLE lot of anger issues.
And it hurt.
Pain shot up her fingertips as the bone scraped her skin. The root thrashed harder, almost slithering free again.
Isabella growled.
"YOU—ARE—COMING—OUT."
Osiris crouched beside her.
Too close.
Again.
"You’re doing it slowly," he said.
She nearly threw the root at his face. "Excuse ?!"
"You’re bleeding—"
"I CAN SEE THAT."
"I’m just saying—"
"You’re just being annoying!"
Glimora squeaked anxiously, grabbing onto Isabella’s sleeve as if trying to pull her back. "Pip, pip!"
"I’m fine," Isabella said breathlessly, shaking her off. "Just—ugh—hold still, you stupid plant!"
Behind her, the wind spirit floated with a large pout. "Are you done yet? I’m hungry."
Isabella gritted her teeth. "You can eat AIR."
"I heard that."
"GOOD."
Her system chid suddenly.
[Host, please stop digging sideways. You’re excavating like a blind mole.]
"SHUT UP."
Osiris blinked. "Are...you talking to ?"
"NO."
He frowned. "Then who—?"
"NO ONE."
"Oh," he murmured, leaning back slightly. "She’s losing it."
"I CAN HEAR YOU."
The root jerked violently.
Then everything shifted.
A sharp hiss escaped the cracks.
A cloud of whispering mist burst from the spine—swirling, glittering, alive. It shot into Isabella’s face before she could pull back.
She reeled.
The world spun.
The skeleton shifted—bones grinding against each other like they were waking up. The ground beneath her seed to pulse. Colors twisted into strange shapes. The air grew thick with voices.
Whispers.
Tiny, echoing whispers.
Isabella...
Her breath hitched.
Shelia’s voice.
Then another.
You’ll fail...
Another.
You’re too late—
She staggered back, eyes wide.
Glimora panicked imdiately, pawing at Isabella’s leg. "Pip! Pip! Pip!"
Osiris went still.
He saw her expression change—the way her pupils widened, the way her breath seized, the way her hands froze mid-motion.
He didn’t hear the whispers.
He didn’t see the illusions.
His beast blood repelled them like smoke.
He only saw her shaking.
He grabbed her shoulder on instinct. "Isabella—"
She shoved him away violently. "DON’T TOUCH —!"
He stumbled back, stunned. "What—?!"
She wasn’t looking at him.
She was looking through him.
Like he wasn’t there.
Her breath trembled. Her hands twitched. Her eyes darted around the warped world the root had created.
The skeleton leaned forward.
The ribs closed around her.
Sothing brushed her hair.
Another whisper.
You’re alone up here...
"No I’m not," Isabella whispered back, teeth clenched, heart hamring.
Osiris’s jaw tightened.
He stepped in front of her, blocking the illusory shadows from reaching her vision—even though he couldn’t see them.
Her eyes focused on him.
Just barely.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Just stood there—stupid, stubborn, tall, protective without permission.
Slowly, the fog faded.
The skeleton stopped moving.
The whispers vanished.
Reality clicked back into place.
Isabella blinked hard.
Her hands trembled once.
Just once.
She inhaled shakily.
Osiris didn’t say anything.
He just... stayed in front of her.
And she hated that it helped.
She shoved past him with a glare. "I don’t need your help."
He raised a brow. "I didn’t say anything."
"You were about to."
"No. I really wasn’t."
"You ALWAYS are."
Osiris sighed. "...You’re welco?"
"SHUT. UP."
She crouched again.
The root was still pulsing.
Still resisting.
But the dew shimred warmly around her fingers again.
She grabbed it.
Hard.
It twisted.
She yanked.
It hissed.
She cursed.
It tried to burrow.
She dug deeper.
Osiris hovered behind her again, muttering, "You’re going to break your hands..."
She snapped, "Maybe that’s the point!"
Glimora squeaked, "PIP!!!"
The wind spirit yelled, "You better not die! I still need my nuts!"
Her system chid:
[Host, please stop attacking the root like it owes you money.]
"SHUT UP, BUBU—!!"
Osiris flinched. "Who is Bubu?!"
"NO ONE!"
The root writhed violently one last ti—
And Isabella PULLED.
The entire spine shuddered.
A final cloud of mist burst out.
And the Ashvine Root slid free into her hands with a wet, ancient shhhhp.
Isabella fell backward onto the ground, panting, dirt sared across her cheeks, hair sticking to her forehead, fingers trembling with pain and victory.
The root glowed in her hands.
Alive.
Beating faintly like a captured heart.
Glimora ran to her imdiately, throwing herself into Isabella’s lap with a panicked "PIP-PIP-PIP!!!"
Isabella wrapped an arm around her, chest heaving, sweat beading down her neck.
When she finally looked up—
Osiris was staring at her.
Not annoyed.
Not amused.
Not arrogant.
Just... staring.
Eyes soft.
Jaw tight.
Expression unreadable but full.
Like he wasn’t looking at an enemy.
Like he was looking at sothing beautiful and dangerous and alive.
And it annoyed her more than anything else.
She swallowed, staring at her injured hands and the glowing root resting in her palms.
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