The scream wasn't a sound—it was a wave.
The sea pulsed outward from the Bloom Matron like a heartbeat unchained, shaking coral towers and twisting the water into spirals of force. Kelp bent backward. Statues cracked. The tideborn fell to their knees.
But Thalindra stood firm.
Roots burst from her boots and anchored her to the coral beneath.
Kaelen slid to her side, blades drawn. "I take it diplomacy's over."
Rowan braced his spear. "About time."
Thalindra's eyes didn't leave the Matron.
"You've taken him," she said. "The last voice of our Circle. You bound him to your bloom and buried his Song beneath yours."
The Bloom Matron stepped forward. Her blindfold shimmered, a ripple of shell and soul.
"I did not take him," she said. "He chose to stay. When the Circle shattered, he fell into the sea. And the sea… sang back."
The bound druid, still suspended in coral, began to glow.
The vines wrapped around his limbs pulsed to a rhythm not unlike Thalindra's own mark—but slower. Muted. Incomplete.
He was singing the Song.
But it was not his anymore.
It belonged to the deep.
Thalindra's voice shook. "Who is he?"
The Bloom Matron tilted her head. "You knew him once. Before the fire. Before the gate. He was your anchor."
Thalindra staggered.
A flash.
A name—
Laeron.
Her memory cracked open.
Laughter in the rain.
A song sung in harmony.
A whispered promise: "No matter what happens, I'll follow your roots."
Thalindra's eyes burned.
"…You bound him."
The Bloom Matron nodded solemnly. "Because he wouldn't leave. He became the Bloom Below."
Thalindra stepped forward, the Verdant Seed flaring in her palm.
"I'm not leaving without him."
The Bloom Matron spread her arms.
"Then take him, Leafweaver."
The sea exploded.
Tentacles of kelp surged from the walls, laced with shards of coral and glowing runes. They struck fast, slashing and constricting.
Kaelen met them blade-first, dancing through their swipes with graceful fury.
Rowan threw himself at the roots near Laeron, spears cracking through the coral to free his arms.
Thalindra advanced on the Matron.
Vine met vine. Song met Song.
The water twisted around them as if caught between two rhythms—Thalindra's balance, and the Matron's survival.
Their roots clashed in midwater, spiraling into each other, vying for dominance.
"Why do you fight me?" the Matron hissed. "You know what I offer. Freedom from restraint. Wild growth. Power unchained."
Thalindra's voice was firm. Steady.
"I've seen unchained power. It ends in rot."
She thrust the seed forward.
Light burst from her chest—gold and green.
It wrapped the chamber.
The vines screamed.
The coral cracked.
And Laeron gasped.
He fell into Rowan's arms, the last of the bloom dissolving from his skin.
The Matron stumbled.
"No," she whispered. "You were meant to grow him into something more…"
Thalindra reached forward and removed the blindfold.
The Matron's eyes were dark pools of endless grief.
She was not a monster.
She was a memory that refused to fade.
And with a single touch of mercy—
Thalindra let her rest.
The sea settled.
The tideborn vanished into mist.
Laeron opened his eyes.
And sang her name.
"Thalindra."