Bamboo Heart, Dark Echoes
That night, the Bamboo Shadow Spirit led me into the grove. Moonlight dripped through emerald leaves like liquid silver, each rustling frond whispering secrets—as if this bamboo forest wasn’t just a place, but a living, breathing entity. She moved between the stalks with ghostly grace, her form dissolving and reforming with every dappled shadow.
"This was once a sanctuary," her voice curled like mist through the stems. "These bamboos sheltered lost spirits and guided wandering souls home."
Moonlight softened her features, but couldn’t mask the tension in her eyes. "The recent disturbances… are they draining your power?"
She nodded, gaze fixed on some invisible horizon where darkness festered. "The grove’s pulse is tied to this land. When foreign malice approaches, the bamboos grow taut—like bowstrings waiting to snap."
"So this force… it’s not from here?"
"No." Her fingers brushed a trembling leaf. "This isn’t demon energy or forgotten gods. It’s something… hungrier. It’s gnawing at the grove’s barriers."
A chill prickled my neck. We walked deeper, through corridors of jade-green pillars, until we reached a hidden clearing. Here, the bamboos twisted into a natural spiral, their center occupied by an ancient mother tree—its trunk thick as a temple column, its roots humming against my palm when I touched them.
"The heart of the grove," the spirit murmured. "Its rhythm sustains us all."
But something was wrong. Brittle patches marred the trunk, oozing a cloying decay.
"The wards are rotting," she confirmed, voice tight. "Whatever this is, it’s not just attacking—it’s infecting."
Memories surfaced: the river god choked by polluted waters, the land spirit starved of offerings. Patterns within patterns.
"What can we do?"
From her sleeve, she produced a slender flute carved from a single bamboo segment. "This channels the grove’s will. But to awaken its full power…" She pressed it into my hands. "It requires a sincere wish—one strong enough to counterbalance the darkness."
I hesitated. Magic always exacted its price.
"I’m willing."
Her smile was a fleeting thing. "Then play. Let the grove remember its song."
The flute’s first note shimmered like dawn mist. As the melody unfurled, the entire forest answered—leaves trembling in harmonic resonance, roots glowing faintly beneath the soil. Warmth flooded my veins, pooling into the earth like reverse rainfall.
Then—
A discordant snarl tore through the harmony. The darkness had noticed.
"It’s here," the spirit whispered, bracing as the grove’s shadows began to writhe. "Hold the melody. Hold it no matter what."
Somewhere beyond the clearing, something vast and shapeless began to laugh.
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