You risked your life to save someone else. That was really stupid of you, but it worked, I guess.
REWARD:this man-eating house plant. Feed him, Seymour.
I stare in horror at the two small bottles and potted plant that appear floating in the air even as a notification pops up showing my XP growing. It’s not enough to level up yet, just ten XP, but I don’t even care about that right now. I’m still stuck on the spores digging their way into my bones.
“Locke is going to turn into one of those things?” I gasp, staring at where he’s bleeding from wounds on his legs.
“If he does not take the antidote, then yes. Any wound sustained by the Killing Tree will fester,” Cipher says.
I slowly look down at my arm where one of the branches had scratched me. As I stare at it, the barest tip of a branch pokes through and dips back inside. My chest squeezes and I grab the two bottles from the air in front of us. I resist the urge to toss back one of the potions first and instead kneel down beside Locke where he moans and shakes on the ground.
“I need you to drink this,” I tell him. “And I’m pretty sure it’s going to suck.”
“What is it?” he asks, staring at the glowing purple bottle.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him. “But you gotta drink it.”
“What if I don’t want to?” he asks, his eyes showing his distrust.
“You either drink it, or you turn into one of those things anyway,” I growl. “So fucking drink it.”
His face scrunches up but he slowly nods and reaches for the bottle. His hand shakes so bad, I’m worried he’ll spill it, so instead I push his hand down and pull the cork.
“Drink it all,” I say, tipping it up to his lips.
He does so, his throat bobbing with the movement. He wipes his lips with the back of his arm as he finishes. “That wasn’t so bad. It actually tastes pretty goo?—”
He back bows off the ground so suddenly, it cuts off his words with a guttural scream as he starts to convulse.
“Your turn, Vespera,” Cipher instructs. “The longer you wait, the worse it will be.”
“What if something comes to get us while I’m down?” I ask worriedly, glancing at the things all waiting in the forest at the edges of the clearing.
“They will not enter the clearing. You will be safe until morning. Do not remove your medallion.”
Taking a deep breath, I toss back the other potion. Locke is right. It tastes like berries, so at first, nothing happens. I expect that. I also expect some sort of pain from the way Locke writhes on the ground and screams so loud, his throat has to be damaged. What I don’t expect is the feeling of fire in my veins.
I scream, falling onto the ground beside Locke, my body convulsing. Agony spreads through me, ripping me to shreds, clearly killing me as whatever the potion is wipes my veins clean of anything that doesn’t belong there. I grit my teeth so hard, I worry I’ll break them as my mouth starts to foam and froth. I’m gasping for air, so lost in the pain, I don’t realize when Locke goes still and passes out. I don’t notice anything at all, as a few seconds later, I follow him.
The world goes silent.
The fire in my veins dissipates.
And I sleep so hard, I don’t even have nightmares about the Killing Trees.
The sunlight wakes me up. It’s warm on my face, shining so bright it drags me from the last bits of exhaustion, and I sit up. When I try to crack open my eyes, sharp pain spears into my skull from the brightness of the sun, making me scrunch my face up. I press my hand against my forehead, trying to soothe the ache there.
“Ow,” I groan, rubbing at my temple.
A Snaptrap lands on a branch at the edge of the clearing and chirps at me, its four mouth petals opening wide as it tilts its head side to side to better study me.
And then, as if it takes me that long, I remember what had happened before I passed out.
I gasp and tear my eyes open, frantically looking around the clearing. Locke is laid out on the ground beside me, his eyes still closed as he snores softly. The fire is black and charred, no smoke trailing up from it any longer. I spin where I sit, looking around the edges of the clearing, but I find none of the Spore Players there. Just normal looking trees.
I hit Locke on the arm. “Wake up,” I hiss.
He jerks awake, his face scrunching up at the sun, too, as he fights to sit up. He gasps and reaches down to his legs where he drags his trousers up. His flesh is unmarred, healed after the tree had embedded in his bone.
