"I'm just saying, a beetle appreciates specifics. Step one: figure out where we are. Step two: question mark. Step three: save the girl. It's a very loose framework."
I start walking. Peeble follows, buzzing along at shoulder height and continuing to provide commentary I didn't request.
"ELLE!" Peeble suddenly shrieks at the top of their lungs, the sound ricocheting off every tree in a hundred-foot radius. "ELLE, ARE YOU HERE? IT'S PEEBLE! YOUR BEST FRIEND!"
I grab them out of the air and clamp my hand over their mandibles. "Are you trying to get us killed? We don't know who or what is in this iteration. We don't know if the Crown exists here, if there are patrols, if—"
Peeble wiggles free and huffs. "You're so dramatic. It's a forest, not a war zone."
"Every forest I've ever been in has tried to kill me at least once."
"That says more about you than the forest."
We walk in tense silence for another ten minutes. Well, I walk in tense silence. Peeble continues in barely contained silence, which for them means they hum, click their mandibles,comment on the quality of various mushrooms, and ask me twice if I think Kevin misses them.
Then I hear it. My hand goes instinctively to the hilt at my side.
A distant low rumble, except there’s a rhythm to it. Drums. Beneath them, voices. A lot of voices. Cheering, shouting, the unmistakable roar of a crowd.
We push through a dense thicket of ferns and reach the edge of a clearing. I stop.
It’s massive. A natural amphitheater carved out of the Wyrmwood floor, ringed by the largest trees I’ve ever seen. Their roots form terraced seating that rises in concentric circles. It’s packed. Hundreds of fae, maybe more, crammed onto roots, branches, makeshift wooden stands. Banners hang from the canopy in deep greens, burnt umber.
In the center, the ground has been cleared and divided into distinct areas. A throwing pit. A series of tall wooden poles rigged with ropes, platforms. An archery range. A massive log suspended between two posts.
Torches burn at intervals despite the daylight, their flames unnaturally bright, casting the entire scene in warm amber light.
Peeble's wings stop buzzing. Their entire body goes rigid on my shoulder. Then they start vibrating. Not with fear, but with excitement so intense I can feel it through my armor.
"Oh," Peeble breathes. "Oh. Oh no. Oh YES."
"What is it?"
"I know where we are." They launch off my shoulder and do a loop in the air, shrieking. "I KNOW WHERE WE ARE! This is Iteration Fifteen! Oh, this was a FUN one!"
"Peeble, keep your voice—"
"THE ROOTBREAKER GAMES!" Peeble shrieks with a glee that borders on unhinged. "Kaelren! It's the Rootbreaker Games! Oh, we MUST! We absolutely must!"
"What are the Rootbreaker Games?"
"Only the greatest athletic competition in Wynmire's history! Well, this version's history. They held them every seven years in the Grand Clearing. Feats of strength, speed, combat, the whole thing! I watched the last ones from Gerald's branches, there was a stone-hurling event where someone accidentally launched a boulder into the Sage's meditation garden. Best day of my life!"
I watch the activity below. Competitors are warming up, some stretching beside the throwing pit, others testing the ropes on what I now realize is some kind of climbing apparatus. A group near the archery range is arguing loudly about the rules of something. Food vendors line the outer ring, selling roasted roots and what smells like honeyed mead.
"Oh yes. Oh, we have to compete." Peeble's antennae are practically vibrating off their head. "They have a caber toss! A CABER TOSS, Kaelren! Do you know what that is? It's where you pick up a log the size of a small tree and THROW it! Who comes up with that? Geniuses, that's who!"
"We are not here to play games. We're here to find Elle or move to the next iteration."
"Oh, psh." Peeble waves a leg dismissively. "We can do both. Multitasking. You know, fun AND purpose? I realize those are concepts you're unfamiliar with, but—"
"Peeble," I grab them again. Gently this time, but firmly. "Focus. What do you know about this iteration? Anything useful?"
They settle down, though their legs are still twitching with excitement. "Iteration Fifteen. Okay, okay. Let me think. It was a weird one. The Crown fell early in this version. Auradelle got overthrown by a territorial uprising before he could consolidate power. So there's no royal authority. The realm kind of fractured into territories, and things got... colorful. Lots of independent factions. The Rootbreaker Games were their way of settling disputes without war. Mostly."
"Mostly?"
"There were a few incidents. Nothing worth mentioning."
