Sera was already awake when Chris stepped out of the vine hut the next morning. She was sitting on the same rock by the gate, her sword planted beside her, watching the sun bleed orange across the Barrens.
He simply gave her a short greeting without saying much else as he walked past, getting a small nod in response before he began his rounds.
The medical grass, aka 'the Critic,' greeted him with its usual snark, commenting about how it was about time he got up, that the soil near the east wall needed to be worked, how it had begun to compact from the stupid puppy vines getting hyperactive while patrolling that area during the night. Adding how it was there to improve the soil, not act as its softener or do all the work for him. Chris just snorted, a small smile on his face as he bent down and ran his fingers through its blades. "A good morning to you too," he said before making his way there.
He worked slowly and carefully, smiling at how the sand in the village had become actual soil now. Breaking up the packed patches with his fingers and nodding as he found them to be an earthy brown with notes of black before mixing in a tiny bit of the special soil he still had left. The medical grass spread its blades across the freshly turned earth, testing, approving, then settling in with a satisfied hum. He didn't mind risking the use of the special soil anymore—the medical grass had promised that its created soil was almost on par with it now. He did plan to keep some back, though. Trusting the grass was one thing, but being prepared was another.
Sera appeared at the edge of his vision as he worked, clearly having been watching him again.
He ignored her for a while, finding no harm in letting her watch. He had slowly grown used to it at this point. It was when he moved to the shadow berry vines that she finally came over and spoke with him.
"You just... talk to them?"
Chris slowly turned his gaze to her, pausing his work for a brief moment. Her arms were crossed, and her expression was carefully blank, but there was something in her eyes. Curiosity, maybe? Or the beginnings of it.
"Sometimes," he began, turning back to the vines, softly running a finger along one of their stems, causing it to purr happily in his mind before checking for discoloration or any other signs that they might be struggling or changing. The red streaks pulsed gently under his touch, its voice telling him how it was content and that he was worrying too much. "They talk back. Well, most of them do." He added, tapping his temple.
Sera was quiet for a long moment before slowly moving closer. Not quite beside him, but close enough to see what he was doing.
"The grass?" she said with a mix of realization and confusion, furrowing her brow. "It called you an idiot this morning."
Chris paused, his head snapping toward her with a look of surprise. "You heard that? How?"
"Well, it wasn't exactly quiet." Her tone was flat, but there was something almost amused underneath it. "Does it always talk like that?"
"The Critic?" Chris asked with a short, genuine laugh. "Pretty much every time it speaks. It started out quiet and only spoke when it had to, but now it's got opinions about everything. The soil, the other plants, how often I have the cloud tree make it rain to water things. Even had something to say about you—or rather, just reinforcing a statement one of my other plants had made before I brought you in. But how did you hear it? I thought…" He trailed off, catching himself before mentioning the old god.
That got her attention. Her eyes sharpened slightly. "What did it say?"
Chris hesitated for a moment. The medical grass had actually said quite a bit since she had been here. Most of it about how Sera's presence had changed the energy of the village, how she carried death like a second skin but still had enough life in her to be worth saving. How she reminded it of him, but with blood on her own hands rather than using others to spill it for her.
"He said you're loud. In a way that's hard to ignore," he told her, trying to keep things neutral.
Sera stared at him. "Loud?"
"In here." Chris tapped his temple. "Emotionally loud, I guess. The plants feel things differently than we do. My first sprout—a little tree I keep in that hut over there? It said you're trying really hard not to feel anything. That the volume comes as a deep echo from how much you're holding back, and it just wants to be let out. But mind telling me how you heard the grass? I'm pretty sure it can't speak aloud like the singing flowers."
She didn't respond to his question. Instead, she just stood there with arms still crossed, face still blank, but he did notice her jaw tighten and the way she seemed a bit more tense. Realizing he wouldn't be getting an answer, Chris decided not to push the matter. She would open up in time, or he would figure it out himself. He chose to focus on the work at hand instead.
A few minutes passed before, without a word, Sera crouched down beside him, looking at the vines and then at him. "What are you looking for?" she asked softly.
"Any sort of problems—things like discoloration or weak spots, signs they're not getting enough nutrients or anything else. They would tell me if something was wrong, but I just feel better looking them over myself. It helps distract me." He gently lifted the vine to show her the red streaks in their stems. "These are supposed to pulse steadily like this. I've learned it's a sign of their health—almost like a heartbeat. If they slow down or speed up too much, it means something's wrong."
She studied the vines with an intensity that surprised him. Her hand tentatively hovered near one of the stems but didn't quite touch it.
"Can I...?" she asked so low he almost missed it, causing him to blink in confusion for a moment before nodding.
"Yeah. Just be gentle. They're quite sensitive."
Sera's fingers delicately brushed against the vine, causing it to coil around her finger lightly from her touch—not in aggression, but in what Chris could clearly hear was curiosity and joy. The red streaks pulsed slightly faster than before, but not in alarm or worry, rather in happiness at confirming that the woman they had helped had properly recovered. That they had managed to save someone.
"It's warm," Sera murmured softly.
"They really seem to like you," Chris said, getting a curious look from her. "Each of the plants has its own personality. The shadow berry vines? They're rather soft and cheerful. They're extremely happy you made a full recovery and that you're touching them this time rather than just helping with the soil. Those over there wrapped around my hut? Those are strangle vines, and honestly, they still give me the creeps sometimes. And that's saying something, since they were one of the first things I grew."
Sera's lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but close. "The ones that eat things and seem to stare at everything with their flowers?"
"Yeah. Those ones." Chris shook his head in exasperation. "They mean well, and it's more my fault for being so scared and angry when I grew them. It's just that they have a very... enthusiastic approach to protection. And a hunger that's hard to satisfy."
They worked in silence after that. Sera followed him from plant to plant, watching and occasionally asking questions as she did what she could to copy him. What was this one for? How did he know what to grow? Had he always been able to hear them?
Chris answered as honestly as he could. Some of it, he figured, she deserved to know, especially since it seemed like she was going to stay. He figured she wouldn't be asking all those questions if she wasn't.
By midday, they'd made it to the fig tree. Its milky sap dripped steadily into the small bowl Chris kept beneath it, now sitting full. The tree's voice was shy yet seemed extremely pleased at the attention it was being given, asking if the new person wanted to try its fruit when it finished ripening.
"It says hi," Chris translated, realizing she couldn't hear it and finding it odd that she had heard the grass but not the tree. "And wants you to try the figs when they're ready."
Sera looked at the tree, then at Chris, then back at the tree. "You're serious?" she asked with notes of incredulity.
"As serious as I can be," he replied, swapping the filled bowl for an empty one and enjoying a mouthful of the refreshing liquid.
His words had her let out a breath. Not quite a laugh, but he was certain it was the closest he had heard to one yet. "This is the strangest place I've ever been to."
They sat beneath the cloud tree after that, eating some dried meat along with some of the potato-like yam roots and fig juice, a strange thought coming to mind.
"You could probably sell this," she eventually said. "In the cities, people would no doubt pay a lot for something this good."
"Even if that were true, I can't exactly pack up and walk to a city with a wagon full of fig juice. I don't even have a cart," Chris told her as he chewed thoughtfully. "Besides, I'm not even sure I want to. At least not yet, anyway. This place? It's still growing. It's still figuring out what it wants to be, and it still needs a lot more before it's ready to even consider heading out and beginning trade... I want this to be a haven. And if I rush it? Well, that's how you get problems. I learned that from experience." He finished with a slight wince.
Sera considered that for a long moment, taking another sip of her drink before nodding slowly and looking at him with a blank expression. "It seems you're actually smarter than you look."
"I'll take that as a compliment. I think," he eventually said before they returned to sitting in a comfortable silence for a while longer. The cloud tree's mist drifted gently around them, cool and soft in a way that seemed to refresh them.
"You know," Sera eventually said, "I didn't come here just because of Theron." Chris looked at her, waiting for her to continue.
"There's a dungeon near here. I heard about it a few years ago, back when I was still a knight. I hear it's... wrong? That it's been like that for a long time, but no one could tell me why. Just that beasts come out even when it's not experiencing a dungeon break, while things that should be mindless act like they're waiting for something." She looked at him. "The old stories say it wasn't always like that. That the dungeon used to be normal—well, normal for a dungeon. Dangerous? Sure, but that's normal for dungeons. But when this area became a dead zone, something changed it, and in the past year, it's gotten far worse."
Chris thought about the missing dungeon core. How the first bandit leader had mentioned that his own boss was paranoid about the dungeon, along with how Walter had stolen it and the old man's comments on it being far more active.
"You think the dungeon's the reason the Barrens are the way they are? And the recent activity is a sign of something far worse coming?" he asked with utmost seriousness.
Sera just shrugged at that. "Maybe. Or maybe the Barrens changed first, and that changed the dungeon. Either way, I know it's connected. And if you're going to build something here—something that truly lasts—then you'll have to deal with it eventually."
Chris didn't answer right away, slowly processing her words before looking past the ent wall, his gaze shifting toward the cliffs where the dungeon rested. The little world tree had told him it felt wrong there a short while after Walter had left their village. That it felt cold, hungry in a way that wasn't natural, and that it was burning with anger that seemed to ripple outward across the land, making its roots tingle.
"I know," he eventually said with a quiet voice. "I just don't know how yet."
Sera only nodded at that. "Neither do I, to be honest. But I've fought worse things than twisted dungeons. If you're willing to let me stay, though—and I mean really stay and make a home for myself here, not just let me recover—then I'll help you figure it all out."
Chris looked at her, easily seeing the weight on her shoulders. He saw someone who'd lost far too much. A woman put through a meat grinder, only to be forced through hell upon walking out the other side. Someone who had lost friends and been forced to face things beyond her. A woman who, despite having gone through all of that, was still trying to find a reason to keep pressing forward.
"The plants like you," he eventually said, trying to shift the focus onto something lighter when he noticed that she had seen his gaze—the frown showing that she had possibly picked up on his thoughts. "That's already far better than anyone has gotten before now. So yes, you can stay, as long as you continue to pull your weight and you don't try to take anything that isn't yours." He paused. "And you keep your word about helping me figure out how to deal with that dungeon when the time comes."
She didn't even need to think about his terms. Instead, she stuck out her hand while telling him, "Deal." A hand Chris shook with a small smile, for the first time since Theron died, the village felt a little less empty. Even though the plants were good company, a real human was a great addition—someone who could understand him. Someone human.
That night, as the flowers sang their evening song, Chris found Sera standing by the ancient ent. Her hand rested on its bark, and he noticed how she seemed to be talking to it, but it was far too quiet for him to hear—not that he would intentionally eavesdrop. If he really wanted to know, he could have just asked in his mind.
He didn't interrupt her moment, though. Rather, he found hints of surprise as the ancient ent seemed to be replying audibly, having a true conversation with her. Choosing to leave them be, he walked to his hut, where the little world tree's root was already waiting on his pillow. Its little voice asked if she was staying, making him nod. "It looks that way."
The little world tree happily told him that it was good, that she was sad and needed a friend, that she wasn't broken like he still was, but that she still needed his help to get better, along with how she might be what he needed.
Chris smiled faintly, understanding that it meant the loneliness and weight of loss that he still felt. "Thanks, little one. That's... actually pretty accurate."
It happily shouted back that it had been learning, that little statement caused a smile to form on him smile as he fell asleep.