The ground shuddered, rumbling in waves. Two guards stood outside the mine entrance, staggering to keep their balance. One of them turned to the other, wide-eyed. "Did you feel that?"

The other guard's gaze had already shifted to the mine entrance, now obscured by a foggy cloud of dust and debris. As they squinted into the haze, shadowed figures began emerging—first Sylvia and Professor Gale stumbling forward, then a handful of guards and Sir William.

Stones continued to fall, partially sealing the entrance with rubble. Outside, they all stood in stunned silence, the tremors finally ceasing, each watching the mine as if expecting something more.

Sylvia blinked, quickly snapping back to her senses. She scanned the crowd, her brow creasing with concern. "Sir Francis—where's Sir Francis? I don't see him here." She asks.

Sir William's gaze lingered on the blocked entrance, a shadow crossing his face. "As we were making our escape, the ground beneath us gave way. Sir Francis fell down a shaft." His voice was calm, but the strain showed in his eyes.

"The drop wasn't too deep, thankfully, but the shaft was too high for he to reach me," Sir William explained. "He believes the tunnels below might lead to another way out."

Sylvia gasped, the words hitting her with shock and worry. She steadied herself, searching Sir William's face. "Will he be all right down there?"

Sir William nodded, though his jaw was tense. "He's been through plenty of caves and dungeons in his time as an adventurer. He knows his way around; he'll be fine," Sir William assured, though a hint of worry lingered in his eyes.

Suddenly, one of the guards pointed toward the mine entrance, where something strange was beginning to happen. "Uh… sir, look!"

Thin roots began snaking upward from the scattered rubble, pushing through the dirt and curling toward the sky.

The earth shook again, this time a more minor tremor, as the roots started twisting and weaving faster, growing unnaturally.

Within moments, they converged, forming a massive, gnarled tree trunk with bare, decaying branches that sprawled outward, casting eerie shadows.

The twisted bark looked ancient, darkened as if burned, while the base spread wide, covering the entire mine entrance.

Sir William stepped back, his expression one of grim disbelief. "What on earth…?" he muttered, his voice barely a whisper, as they all stared in horrified awe at the monstrous, lifeless tree.

The sky above darkened, clouds thickening as a sharp wind howled through the barren branches of the twisted tree, filling the air with an eerie creaking sound.

Sir William's gaze snapped to one of the guards beside him, urgency in his voice. "Head back to the academy immediately. Report everything to the headmistress, and request aid and reinforcements."

The guard saluted briskly before dashing down the hillside into the woods.

Watching the guard disappear from view, Sir William turned to the remaining guardsmen. "Spread out and secure the perimeter," he ordered. "Look for any openings that might lead back into the mine. Report anything unusual to me, but don't engage. Move quickly—we have no time to lose."

The guardsmen nodded, then fanned out across the rough terrain, searching for any sign of an entrance.

Sir William strode over to Sylvia and Professor Gale, who both wore expressions of grim determination, ready to do whatever it took.

Standing before them, he spoke calmly yet decisively. "We need to investigate the cause of this," he said, nodding toward the monstrous tree that had erupted from the earth. "And we need to do it quickly before it spreads further over the mine. Sir Francis is still trapped below."

Sylvia and Professor Gale exchanged a glance, their faces set with resolve, then nodded firmly.

......

Sir Francis moved cautiously through the mine, clutching his torch tightly in one hand and his sword in the other. The dim light from the torch cast flickering shadows along the walls, glinting off his blade as his eyes stayed focused and alert.

A sudden tremor shook the ground, sending loose dirt and dust cascading from the ceiling above. “Rats!” Sir Francis muttered under his breath, frustration and unease mixing in his tone.

An eerie creak echoed from a wooden support beam nearby, sounding frail and strained. “Don’t break, don’t break…” he whispered, quickening his pace. The tremor subsided, and a brief sense of relief washed over him—only for the ground beneath his feet to give way suddenly.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Eh?” The word barely escaped his lips before he was sliding uncontrollably down a steep slope. His torch and sword clattered alongside him as he plunged downwards.

“Aaaah!” Sir Francis let out a startled yell, flailing for something to hold on to. Finally, he hit the ground with a heavy thud, lying flat as the last echoes of his fall faded into silence.

"Ah, not again," he muttered, sounding more resigned than annoyed. Slowly, he sat up and took in his surroundings, surprised to find he could see the cave walls and floor clearly.

Faintly glowing crystals jutted from the dirt, casting a soft light across the cavern. They were scattered all around, embedded in the walls and scattered across the floor, creating an otherworldly glow that illuminated every crevice.

Rising to his feet, Sir Francis scanned the area. There were no wooden support beams here, only bare rock. "Must be an uncharted part of the mine... likely uncovered by that tremor," he murmured, his curiosity piqued.

He sheathed his sword and tucked the torch away, realizing he wouldn't need it with the soft, ambient glow surrounding him. He took a steadying breath and moved further on the path before him.

......

Above, the guards scoured the terrain, searching for any opening into the mine as the dead tree loomed ominously over the blocked entrance. Sir William glanced at the twisted roots and rubble clogging the way and muttered, frustrated, “The entrance is completely blocked.”

Further back, Professor Gale knelt, observing something on the ground. Catching sight of him, Sir William moved closer, then stopped in shock. “Is that…?” he asked, eyes widening.

On the ground, atop a spread parchment etched with intricate magic circles, lay a severed finger, pale and bloodless. “Gh… ghoul finger,” Professor Gale murmured, nodding. “During the sk… skirmish inside th… the mine, one of th… the guards managed to c… cut off a ghoul’s h… hand along with this f… finger. I took it for… for study.”

Professor Gale waved his wand over the finger, causing the magic circle to glow faintly as dark smoke began to rise.

“What’s that coming out of the finger?” Sir William asked, leaning closer.

“Dark magic,” Sylvia replied, stepping forward from behind Sir William. She knelt down, holding a piece of dark bark in her hand. “Professor,” she said, offering it to him.

“Yes… yes,” Professor Gale said, accepting the bark and placing it on another magic circle sketched beside the severed finger. With another wave of his wand, the circle glowed, releasing a similar dark smoke that spiraled briefly before fading into the air.

Sir William and Sylvia watched intently as Professor Gale hummed, considering the results. Straightening up, Sylvia turned to Sir William. “Both the finger and the bark share the same magical properties.”

Sir William’s gaze hardened as he deduced, “So the ghoul and this tree… they’re from the same source.”

“Yes,” Sylvia replied solemnly, her voice laced with concern.

Sir William turned his gaze toward the massive tree base, a look of unease on his face. “Whatever the source of this is, it’s somewhere beneath the mine where Sir Francis was.”

Professor Gale stood and, adjusting his glasses, murmured, “The gh… ghoul… they were once hu… human.”

Sir William spun back to him. “What? Are you certain?”

Professor Gale nodded, holding up the severed ghoul finger. “I… I detected a… a faint trace of li… life force still clinging to it.”

Sir William’s brow furrowed, stroking his chin. “The room we were in looked like some sort of worshiping chamber. If these ghouls were once human, then they might be the worshippers the villagers spoke of.”

Sylvia’s face grew somber. “If their life force has been drained, that could only mean…” She paused, her tone grave. “The only known magic requiring human life force is the summoning of a soul from the dead—a forbidden ritual.”

Sir William muttered, almost to himself, “What… or who… were they trying to summon?”

“Sir!” one of the guards suddenly called out as he hurried toward Sir William.

“Have you found anything?” Sir William asked, his tone sharp and urgent.

“There’s an opening nearby, just past the bushes,” the guard replied, pointing. “It might have appeared due to the quake.”

“Show me,” Sir William commanded.

The guard led him to a narrow gap, barely visible amid the tangled shrubs.

Sir William crouched beside it, examining the fresh cracks and loose earth around the edges. “The rock and soil must have caved in from above,” he muttered, noting the narrow space that seemed barely wide enough for a single person to crawl through. Straightening, he placed his hand on his hip, a frown creasing his face. This passage was too risky to send anyone through—one wrong move, and it could collapse, trapping them inside.

His thoughts drifted to Sir Francis, still lost somewhere beneath mine. Abruptly, he turned back to the guard. “Keep searching the area. There may be other openings that are more stable. Report anything you find immediately.”

The guard saluted swiftly and rushed off, resuming the search with renewed purpose.

At the Magic Academy.....

A lone guard on horseback galloped through the gates of the Magic Academy, reining in sharply as he reached the main yard. He dismounted in haste, abandoning his horse as he sprinted toward the entrance. Bursting inside, he scanned for the nearest servant.

"The headmistress—where is she?" he asked, breathless.

The servant, taken aback, replied, "She's in the garden."

Unbothered to thank the servant, the guard hurried down a passageway, weaving through halls until he reached the open garden. There, he spotted the headmistress tending to a row of flowers, a serene look on her face.

"Forgive me, Headmistress," the guard called out as he approached, his urgency breaking the quiet.

She turned, holding a delicate blossom in her hand. "Yes?" she responded, her brow furrowing at guard urgency.

Once close, the guard blurted, "The mine—there's been a collapse. Or rather... something came out of it. Roots formed into a massive dead tree, and Sir Francis… he's trapped beneath it."

The headmistress's eyes widened in shock. "What? And the others—Sylvia, Professor Gale, Sir William?"

"They managed to escape," the guard replied, "but Sir Francis is still below."

A heavy silence hung between them before he added, "We need aid and reinforcements." His voice held a tense note of worry, his eyes pleading.

The headmistress nodded, her expression turning grim. "I'll gather all the help we can spare. Prepare yourself and stand ready. We leave immediately."