7 October 2025 @marinnewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2883: The Tenth Layer.

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This is my post on #freewriters2883 #dailyprompt the tenth layer hosted by @marinnewest's. In the shadowed underbelly of Ebonwood, where roots twisted like forgotten promises, Ebong's family huddled in the Tenth Layer. The air hummed with the drone of colossal roots grinding against stone, a perpetual reminder that the World Tree's heart beat just above. Ebong, broad-shouldered and etched with vine tattoos, sharpened his adze by the glow of bioluminescent fungi. His wife, Lira, wove nets from spider silk, her fingers nimble despite the chill that seeped from the damp walls. Their son, Kael, ten cycles old, traced maps on slate, dreaming of the sunlit canopy he'd only heard in elders' tales. "Pa, why do we dig deeper?" Kael asked, his voice a whisper against the rumble. Ebong paused, eyes like polished obsidian. "The Layers above grow brittle, boy. Roots choke the paths, and the Overkin hoard the light. Down here, we find the marrow—the sap that feeds the Tree itself. It's our birthright." Lira smiled faintly, threading a luminescent thread. "And our curse. Remember the Ninth? The flood took Mira's kin." That night, as echoes of collapsing tunnels shook their burrow, Ebong led them downward. The Tenth Layer was a cathedral of crystal veins, pulsing with golden ichor. But guardians stirred—root-wraiths, spectral tendrils born of the Tree's wrath. Kael's sling sang, pelting them with salt shards. Lira's nets ensnared one, while Ebong's adze cleaved another, sap spraying like blood. They claimed a vein, siphoning the lifeblood into gourds. For the first time, warmth bloomed in their veins, visions of emerald leaves flickering in their minds. "This is freedom," Ebong growled, as the family ascended, richer in secrets than gold. Yet in the quiet, Kael wondered: Would the Tree forgive their theft? Or would the Layers swallow them whole?