And somewhere beneath the palace, Emperor Trajan dreamed of roots.
Rome did not conquer Britannia with fire and iron. It conquered with a slow, silent white rot. The Senate, horrified, burned Marcus’s letters. They sealed the isle for three hundred years, calling it Insula Silens —the Silent Isle.
“The mycelium loves Rome. It wants to see the Forum. It wants to hear the Senate debate. It has so many questions.”
“It learns,” Lykos whispered. “It is the land now.”
And somewhere beneath the palace, Emperor Trajan dreamed of roots.
Rome did not conquer Britannia with fire and iron. It conquered with a slow, silent white rot. The Senate, horrified, burned Marcus’s letters. They sealed the isle for three hundred years, calling it Insula Silens —the Silent Isle.
“The mycelium loves Rome. It wants to see the Forum. It wants to hear the Senate debate. It has so many questions.”
“It learns,” Lykos whispered. “It is the land now.”
