The mill looked like every other abandoned building Ethan had driven past in the last hour.
Broken windows. Roof sagging in the middle like a sinkhole. Graffiti tags claiming territory for crews that probably didn't exist anymore.
He parked three blocks away.
Mira's instructions: Don't drive directly there. Don't make it obvious.
So.
Walking.
It was 11 PM. Streets empty except for a few cars passing through with their headlights cutting the dark like searchlights. Ethan kept his head down. Hands in his jacket pockets. Tried to look like someone who belonged.
(You don't belong anywhere.)
The mill loomed ahead. Four stories. Brick facade crumbling in chunks. The river behind it was black and slow and reflected nothing.
He stopped at the corner.
Scanned for—what? Guards? Cameras? A glowing neon sign that said VERDANT SAFE HOUSE - CULTISTS WELCOME?
"You're late."
Ethan spun.
A woman stood behind him.
Appeared behind him.
He hadn't heard footsteps. Hadn't sensed anything. She was just—there.
"Jesus—"
"Mira Chen." She stuck out her hand. No smile. No warmth. Same flat efficiency from the phone. "You're Ethan Cross. You look worse in person."
Ethan stared at her hand.
Shook it.
Her grip was cold. Really cold. Like she'd been outside for an hour instead of inside a mill.
Her skin had this faint green tint under the streetlight. Not paint. Not makeup. Just—there. Like chlorophyll or something.
"You said eighteen hours," Ethan managed.
"I said survive eighteen hours. You did." Mira released his hand. Turned toward the mill. "Congratulations. Come on. We don't stand around."
She walked.
Ethan followed.
(What else are you going to do?)
The entrance wasn't the front door.
Mira led him around the side. Past a dumpster that smelled like rotting fruit mixed with something chemical-sweet. Stopped at a brick wall that looked completely normal.
She pressed her palm against it.
The bricks moved.
Not like a door opening. Moved like—liquid. Rippling outward from her hand. And a doorway just appeared where there'd been solid wall three seconds ago.
"Inside."
Ethan stepped through.
The doorway sealed behind him with a sound like a heavy sigh.
The room was wrong.
Not dangerous-wrong.
Impossible-wrong.
It was too big.
The mill from outside had been maybe forty feet wide. This space was easily twice that. The ceiling stretched up into darkness. Lost in a tangle of glowing vines that pulsed with faint green light like bioluminescent veins.
(Everything here has veins.)
And the smell.
God, the smell.
Chlorophyll thick enough to choke on. Mixed with sweat and damp earth and something fungal-sweet that reminded him of the mold problem in his dorm bathroom except this smelled alive.
Ethan's stomach turned.
"How many people are down here?"
"Forty-three." Mira was already walking deeper. Boots silent on the dirt floor. "Forty-four now. Don't touch anything that glows. Don't eat anything unless I clear it. Don't wander."
Ethan looked around.
People everywhere.
Sleeping in hammocks made of—were those living vines? One twitched as he stared and the person sleeping in it didn't even wake. A woman, early twenties, with moss growing up her neck like a second skin.
"What the fuck."
He said it out loud.
"Language."
New voice.
Ethan turned.
An older woman stood behind him. Sixties maybe. Silver hair in a braid. Eyes the color of fresh-cut grass. Simple grey robe that looked hand-stitched.
Her hands were covered in bark.
Not gloves.
Bark.
Growing directly from her skin. Rough and dark and textured like oak.
She smiled.
"You must be Ethan. I'm Sylvia. Welcome to the Concord Grove."
Sylvia's office was carved into the roots of what she called the "primary anchor."
A massive tree trunk growing through the center of the mill. Straight up through four floors and the roof. Defying physics and common sense.
"It's not really a tree," Sylvia said. Pouring tea from a clay pot that steamed with something minty and metallic. "It's a Verdant node. Connection point to the network."
Ethan stared at the tea.
"Is it safe?"
"Safer than the coffee you were drinking at your campus job." Sylvia slid the cup across the desk. "Drink. You look half-dead."
He felt half-dead.
Ethan took the cup. The liquid inside was pale green. Almost translucent. Warm enough to sting his palms.
He sipped.
It tasted like—
Spring.
Like the first day after winter when everything smells new and green and full of potential.
He blinked.
"What—"
"Verdant tea. Mild LE restoration." Sylvia watched him with those grass-green eyes. "You'll feel better in a minute."
His LE counter flickered:
[LE: 201/500]
[+17 - passive regen]
It was working.
Ethan took another sip.
Sylvia kept watching. Expression unreadable.
"Mira told me what happened." Pause. "Three Thornbound agents. Dead. You absorbed their LE."
Ethan's grip tightened on the cup.
"I didn't mean to—"
"Doesn't matter if you meant to." Sylvia's voice stayed gentle but something in it hardened. "What matters is you did. And now Thorne knows what you can do."
"What can I do?"
Sylvia leaned back. The bark on her hands creaked softly.
"You're Verdant, Ethan. Seed-touched. That Primordial that infected you—it's not just giving you power. It's rewriting you. Cellular level."
"Into what?"
"Depends."
"On?"
"Whether you fight it or accept it."
Ethan set the cup down.
"I don't want to accept it. I want it out."
Sylvia's expression didn't change.
"Then you die. Three months, maybe less. The Seed doesn't tolerate rejection. Either it integrates completely or it kills the host."
Three months.
Ninety days.
The number sat in his chest like a stone.
"And if I accept it?"
"You live. And become something else."
"Something like you?"
Sylvia smiled. Didn't reach her eyes.
"I've been Verdant for forty years. Had time to make peace with it. You're three days in. Still human enough to be horrified."
"I killed three people."
"You defended yourself against Thornbound agents who would've drained you dry and sold your corpse." Sylvia's voice got colder. "Don't romanticize them. They weren't innocent."
Ethan looked at his hands.
The glow was gone but he could still see the veins. Slightly darker than they should be.
Slightly wrong.
"What happens now?"
"Now you train."
Mira's voice from the doorway.
Ethan turned.
She stood there. Arms crossed. Expression flat.
"Train for what?"
"Survival." Mira pushed off the doorframe. "Thorne will come. Thornbound will come. When they do, you need to kill them faster than they kill you."
Simple.
Like murder was a skill you just learned.
Ethan's stomach turned but the tea kept it down.
"How long?"
"As long as it takes." Mira walked past him. "Rest tonight. Training starts 0600. Don't be late."
She left.
Sylvia sighed.
"She's not as cold as she seems."
"Really."
"She's kept forty-three people alive for two years in a city crawling with Thornbound and corporate kill teams." Pause. "Cold keeps you alive."
Sylvia stood. Chair creaking.
"Come on. I'll show you where you sleep."
The hammock was made of living vines.
They shifted when he climbed in. Adjusted to his weight. Settled around him like a net.
Should've been terrifying.
Instead—
Comfortable.
Ethan stared up at the ceiling. At the glowing veins pulsing in slow rhythms.
His LE had climbed to 243/500.
Tea still working.
He closed his eyes.
Tried not to think about the bodies.
Tried not to think about his mom, who'd definitely filed a missing persons report by now.
Tried not to think about the three-month deadline.
The vines tightened around him.
Not threatening.
Protective.
Like the forest was holding him.
Ethan's breathing slowed.
He slept.