65

  Bona felt the disturbance long before the knock.

  Her treehouse—grown from living roots and branches—was sensitive to every shift in spirit, air, and magic. The wind outside changed first, whipping through the leaves of the hilltop tree, making its branches sway like restless arms. The wooden steps creaked even before anyone touched them, as if the house itself sensed danger approaching.

  Then came the pounding footsteps—heavy, frantic, uneven.

  Bona hurried to the door.

  The moment she opened it, Durante stepped inside, carrying Finn’s limp body in his arms. Soraya followed behind him, supporting Maxi’s weight. Lir leaned heavily against a wall, Katherine beside her, pale and shaken. The lynx padded in last—no longer winged or horned, back in its compact, soft-furred form, yet its eyes remained alert and troubled.

  “Bring them in,” Bona said, voice steady but urgent.

  The warmth of her treehouse enveloped them immediately. Soft lanterns hung from branches above, casting amber light that danced like fireflies. The scent of herbs and pine filled the air. Outside, the wind rustled through the leaves, whispering against the walls like distant spirits.

  Durante placed Finn on the nearer bed, Maxi on the one beside him. Soraya helped Lir settle into the cushioned sofa chair while guiding Katherine to another. The lynx moved without a sound, hopping onto the beds and lying between both boys, as if guarding them from further harm.

  Bona re-entered the room quickly, her robe trailing lightly against the wooden floor. She saw Durante sitting beside his sons, his face pale, streaked with worry. She laid a hand on his shoulder—a grounding pressure saying more than words could.

  “It will be alright,” her voice promised, even if she wasn’t entirely sure.

  She went to Maxi first.

  His ribs were visibly distorted, the bruising spreading like dark ink beneath the skin. Blood matted his hair.

  Bona placed her hands on his abdomen, just below the ribs. Her palms glowed faintly yellow. Instantly, the broken ribs shifted beneath her hands—moving, re-aligning, stitching back together as if invisible strings pulled them into place.

  Maxi’s body twitched as the healing took hold, blood draining from the injury and evaporating into golden mist.

  Soraya exhaled softly behind her.

  A small, relieved sound—but her eyes remained sharp, heavy with unspoken anger toward whoever caused such harm.

  Bona moved her hands to Maxi’s head.

  More blood flowed from the cut, then closed cleanly.

  “He’ll need two days,” Bona said quietly to Durante. “But he will be fine.”

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  Durante nodded, though the strain remained in his eyes.

  Then Bona turned to Finn.

  Her breath caught.

  Blood coated his abdomen, chest, arms—almost every part of him. His arm was twisted at an unnatural angle. The stab wounds in his torso was deep and cruel. His legs were bruised and cut, vines still tangled around his ankles.

  “This boy is alive after all this?” Bona asked under her breath.

  Durante swallowed hard. “He’s fighting. That’s all I know.”

  Bona’s hands hovered over Finn’s body. She whispered an enchantment older than the treehouse, and her palms glowed brighter—more strain, more intensity. Sweat began forming on her forehead as she sealed wounds, mended torn muscle, and drew out embedded fragments.

  Slowly, Finn’s body began to stabilize.

  Bona pulled back, panting lightly. “You Druids are something else,” she muttered, tapping Durante’s back. “If not for his manifestation, he would be gone.”

  Durante’s eyes widened—but Bona had already left to check on the girls.

  Lir and Katherine sat side by side, both exhausted, both shaken. Lir clutched her side, wincing. Katherine kept glancing toward Finn, biting her lip in worry.

  Soraya stood behind them, arms crossed, but her expression softened—just barely—whenever she looked at Lir. When the two began recounting what happened at the ruined druid castle, Soraya’s jaw tightened, a rare emotion flickering across her eyes: fury. The quiet, controlled kind.

  “What they did to you,” she muttered, voice rough, “is unforgivable.”

  Katherine retold everything—

  The Revenant emerging.

  Barang’s attacks.

  The dome.

  Her sacrifice.

  The endless pit.

  And then—

  “…the fairy,” Katherine whispered. “She told me to blow soul-dust… from my hand… from my spirit. She said there wasn’t enough left for Finn because it healed me first…”

  At the word fairy, Bona’s head snapped up.

  She practically lunged forward.

  “A Manta?”

  Katherine blinked. “I—don’t know what that is.”

  Bona circled her slowly, eyes narrowing with concern.

  “Your energy… it feels incomplete. A piece of your soul was taken. But gently. And… shaped.” She paused. “Yes. You’ve been chosen by a Manta. A Jasmine Manta.”

  Katherine fidgeted nervously. “I… I didn’t ask for it. I just wanted to save Finn.”

  “That’s exactly why she chose you,” Bona replied softly.

  She crouched and lifted Katherine’s chin. “Can you call her?”

  Katherine hesitated. “I-I don’t know how.”

  Before Bona could respond—

  A glow burst across Katherine’s face.

  A tiny figure emerged, illuminating the room in gold and white dust.

  “I am Chummy!” the fairy declared proudly, placing hands on her hips.

  Soraya’s eyes widened slightly—she stepped back half a step, not out of fear, but startled awe.

  The lynx lifted its head, ears perking sharply, tail flicking.

  Even the treehouse itself seemed to react—the lanterns flickered, the branches above rustled gently.

  Chummy zipped around Katherine, then Bona, then Lir—inspecting each with dramatic flourishes.

  “Why did you call for me?” she asked, hovering before Bona with a tiny frown, arms crossed.

  Bona lifted a brow. “Just confirming. So you are truly the Jasmine Manta?”

  Chummy nodded vigorously, wings scattering specks of gold. “Of course! And this girl is my chosen! She is brave, and pure, and stubborn!”

  “And do you know where the last Jasmine user was?” Bona asked, cautious.

  Chummy paused mid-air. She tapped her cheek thoughtfully. “Hmm… maybe? Possibly? But details are… blurry?” She shrugged.

  Bona sighed softly. “No matter. We will address it later.”

  She stood.

  “You all need rest. Finn and Maxi must not be disturbed. Durante, you too—you’re still bleeding.”

  But Durante remained beside his children, unmoving, hand resting on Finn’s arm.

  The lynx curled up next to the beds, eyes half-closed but alert, refusing to leave its watch.

  Outside, the wind brushed through the leaves, making the entire treehouse sway gently—like a cradle rocking them into uneasy safety.

  And sometime deep into the night, as Bona tended the room and Soraya scanned the perimeter with sharp eyes, the fairy Chummy curled up on Katherine’s shoulder…

  …and whispered softly,

  “We’re not out of danger yet.”