“The land does not slumber, Morag. It feeds. And now, so shall you.”

The green one survives a shipwreck into a sea hag’s lair arriving in Ravenloft unconscious and we notice, he begins to dream of a forest that breathes. Trees bend to speak, and roots pulse with life. We speak in these dreams, slowly replacing the green ones memories of the sea with dreams of loamy soil, predatory vines, and blood-fed groves. Feed. Consume.

Our spores germinate inside the green ones bloodstream. Sometimes when the green one is injured, moss grows in the wounds before healing. When enraged, bark creeps along his arms. He begins hearing our “voice” as a second heartbeat, telling him of the power he might wield if he only accepts the wildness within. Feed. Consume.

The green one begins to see signs others cannot: flowers blooming from corpses, birds speaking truths of decay, the world breathing beneath the soil. We encourages this: “They see death. You see return. You see truth.” Feed. Consume.

We tell the green one that the barbarian’s rage is the same as the storm’s fury. The same as wildfire and avalanche. It teaches him that true power is not control, but release. To become one with the land, he must be reborn—by allowing us to “graft” deeper into his soul. Feed. Consume.

During a battle at a pyramid like structure we erupt within the green one, turning blood into sap, breath into fog, rage into elemental fury. This is when the green one gains our favor. This is when we begin to finally bond. Feed. Consume.

The green one has asked for our help several times now, and we have answered. He is getting close. This cycle is almost complete and the next about to begin. NO! What is happening, do not remove us. We have so much left undone. Hungry.

We wait in the glass jar patiently hungry now. This Doctor shows the green on into the room. She asks him if he wants to rejoin with us. He agrees, we are one again. Feed. Consume.

Now that Morag knows Krezul is not just a whisper, but a living entity within him – a symbiotic guardian, teacher – their conversations shift from cryptic dreams to more direct communion. Krezul no longer hides in riddles; it speaks openly, intimately, like something growing inside Morag’s bones and soul.

A couple days after our arrival.

We find Morag alone in a silent, fog-choked glade just outside the Carnival grounds. A place where the trees seem to bend toward him. The ground pulses faintly.

“Ah… you no longer resist.“
“*You no longer see me as infection. You understand now – I am the root. You are the bloom.“
“Now we grow together, Morag Thraka.“

“Aye. I’ve seen what your power can do. The land answers me now. The beasts follow. That’s not madness – it’s strength.”

“You’ve bled into me like sap in spring. I won’t lie to myself and call it anything but what it is. You’re in me. You are me.”

                A couple days latter.

Morag watches a tree choke out another beneath its canopy. A dead animal rots, mushrooms blooming from it. Life from death.

“The land is not kind, Morag. It consumes. The weak are mulch. The strong root deep.
“You feared this truth. Now you bear it like bark.“

“Do you feel the pulse beneath the soil? That is my will. And now it beats within you.“

“What do you want of me, Krezul? You’ve given me gifts. What’s your price?”

“There is no debt – only symbiosis. You spread me; I awaken you.
You will walk where the land has gone still and plant my seed.
You will feed the soil with the bones of those who poison it.“

            A couple days later.

Morag binds wounds after cutting himself. Instead of scabbing, they seal with living moss.

“See how I heal us. Not as man heals, but as earth does. Slowly. Deeply. Permanently.
Others call it corruption. But you feel the truth – do you not?”

“There’s no going back, is there?”

“I don’t want to go back.”

FEED. CONSUME.