Jason moved through the roots like a god.
The vines did not just part for him—they carried him. They rose beneath his feet, forming platforms of woven wood that propelled him forward at impossible speeds. Ylva and Mae stood beside him, their feet planted on the moving roots, their bodies steady despite the velocity. The ant king remained in Mae's arms, his tiny chest rising and falling, still hibernating.
The roots moved like a living transport system, carrying them through the labyrinthine corridors of the Marrow at ten times the speed they could have managed on foot. The walls blurred.
The impaled corpses became streaks of grey and black. The wind roared past their ears.
Then they burst out of the dense forest that coated the area.
