Rowan Marlowe ran from his old life with a knife, a tin of last-resort tea, and a guilt he never unpacked. Three years later, he's the Northwood's quiet herbalist—gathering mushrooms, dodging gratitude, and talking to plants like they're colleagues.
Then a ring of mushrooms starts glowing, and the forest breathes back.
Rowan stumbles onto the Rootway, an ancient cultivation of the boreal wild: six slow realms, each one a full season of rooting—skin to bark, breath to wind, nothing taken without something given back. It is the opposite of everything he fled. It is also the only thing that can save the Hollow, because something is stealing the forest's breath with iron nails, and what it takes is rotting.
No swords. No chosen one. Just a man, a pine marten thief, a gruff warden with a limp, and a 400-year-old spruce that remembers everything.