Roots of Judgment

The crawl down to Infernac was always hot, but tonight, it felt like the planet’s fury was close enough to burn. Herc Armstrong’s visor cut a pale wedge through the stone gloom as Earth Corps emerged into the vaulting cavern city of Skellweb—the Redwoods’ underground stronghold. Molten light flickered on shattered columns where D’Compose’s undead horde had breached the ancient gates. Behind Herc, Ed Augutter trudged, drill-arm ready. Jonathan Slattery scanned for chemical traces, jaw tight. Sandra Shore’s face behind the visor was grim set and pale, haunted by the memory of D’Compose’s touch, but eyes sharp. Granok—living stone, massive and solemn—waited at the threshold, roots embedded in the ruined flagstones, his voice echoing through the city’s bones. "You honor us, Earth Corps," Granok intoned. Around him, the Redwoods gathered, battered but standing. "But this is not only your fight." "We stand with you," Herc said. He tried not to look at the fallen. "Where’s D’Compose?" "He marches on the heartwood," Granok answered. "But we ask more. A human delivered our city’s plans to the enemy." Sandra’s brows drew together. "Who?" From the shadows, two Granite warriors dragged a man between them—ragged, face bloodied, engineer’s jumpsuit torn. His badge glinted: a consulting geotech, one Earth Corps had trusted on a prior dig. Sandra recognized him, and her fist curled. "He sold the Redwoods’ coordinates to Blackthorne," Granok rumbled. "And so to D’Compose." The accused met their eyes, defiant and afraid. "He offered more than you ever could. I didn’t know—" "You never do," Auger muttered, voice dark. Granok’s voice was as implacable as a landslide. "Mutore law is clear: those who betray the hidden world answer for it. The Redwoods demand justice." Herc’s jaw set. "He’s human. He’ll answer to us." "If you wish our roots to hold against D’Compose," Granok replied, "this is the cost." Sandra met the engineer’s eyes. The weight of her brother’s crimes, and now this, pressed on her chest. "It’s not enough to fight monsters," she said quietly. "We have to decide who we are." Outside, the groan of D’Compose’s horde echoed. Redwoods braced as tendrils of sick light flickered along shattered halls. Herc glanced at Auger and Liquidator. No one spoke. The planet’s heart throbbed, waiting. Granok’s great hand waited. "One word, Earth Corps. Do you stand with us—even when it means giving up your own?" Herc exhaled, feeling the depth and gravity of ancient earth beneath his boots. "We stand," he said. "Do what you must. But help us stop D’Compose." The engineer’s cry was lost as the Redwoods closed in. D’Compose’s howl rose in the darkness beyond, and Earth Corps raised their weapons. Sandra’s breath shuddered, but she stood straight. In the red light of Infernac, heroism and judgment mingled—a choice carved in stone and root, echoing as the fighting began.

Comic