“Hey, can I ask you something? Have you seen or heard anything weird lately? Like…maybe from the stories I’ve told you?

  …….

  You...you have? When?! Huh? You drew this? That looks just like what I saw…

  And... the music has shifted? What does... that mean?”

  The morning light spilled softly through the latticework of the hut, pale beams painting golden shapes across the wooden floor. Ariel stepped outside, stretching her arms wide as the crisp forest air filled her lungs. The scent of damp earth and flowering vines greeted her, cool and grounding, and for the first time in what felt like days she felt rested.

  The village stirred with quiet energy, its homes of woven wood and living vines blending seamlessly into the trees. Smoke curled gently from clay chimneys, carrying the scent of roasting roots and simmering herbs. Birds called from the canopy above, their songs mingling with the faint clatter of wooden tools and the laughter of children. The forest itself seemed to hum alongside the rhythms of Sylari life.

  Sylari moved gracefully through their routines, carrying woven baskets of herbs, fetching water from nearby springs, tending to the morning fires. A group of children dashed by in a blur of laughter, nearly colliding with Ariel before skittering off again, their bright eyes shining with mischief. She smiled and lifted a hand in greeting as she passed a pair of women arranging drying racks for freshly picked roots. They waved back warmly, bowing their heads in quiet reverence before returning to their work.

  Everywhere she turned, she was met with nods, small smiles, and whispered words of gratitude. Ariel returned each gesture with a shy wave, her steps slow and steady as she let herself absorb the rhythm of their lives. There was a peacefulness here that made her heart ache with both longing and comfort.

  Her wandering path eventually brought her to the village’s central clearing, where small shrines of woven flowers and carved wooden tokens ringed the base of the great statue. Offerings of fruit and herbs lay carefully arranged, their scents mingling with the air, a quiet testament to the Sylari’s reverence. The stone figure’s flowing robes encircled with carved vines, her outstretched hands eternally cradling a bloom that never withered; The craftsmanship still took Ariel's breath away, though the resemblance to her own face was still unsettling. However, it stirred something deeper now: a thread of connection, fragile but undeniable.

  At the base of the statue, a group of Sylari stood in solemn formation, their expressions serious. They parted slightly as she approached, revealing Fornaskr at their center. In his hands he held something long, carefully wrapped in cloth, the weight of it carried with deliberate reverence. His eyes met hers, steady and warm, as though the gift itself bore meaning beyond its shape.

  Ariel could feel it then. A pulse that echoed in her chest like a second heartbeat, thrumming through her veins and whispering at the edges of her thoughts, soothing and insistent all at once in her mind, emanating from whatever lay hidden beneath the cloth.

  Fornaskr stepped forward, his voice low but carrying.

  “There is an old legend among my people,” he began. “It is said that when She Who Commands the Forest revealed herself, a tree would choose to part with one of its branches. A gift to aid the Savior.”

  He held the wrapped object higher. “When you and I tended the Eiranth, one such tree in our village willingly parted with its oldest branch. And when the bloom was cleansed, the memory of this legend returned to us. Our carpenter set to work immediately.”

  Fornaskr began to unwind the cloth with deliberate care. “A branch willingly given is no ordinary wood. It keeps its life, its bond to the forest. It demands to be shaped, to become more.”

  The final fold fell away, revealing an exquisitely carved staff, its surface etched with runes shaped like curling vines and flowing leaves, as if the forest itself had breathed life into the wood. Its length was etched with runes that glowed faintly, like embers beneath the bark. Fornaskr lowered himself to one knee and held the staff up toward her.

  Ariel, still standing several feet away, reached out instinctively. The air thrummed, energy buzzing between her and the staff. She flicked her wrist, and with a sudden rush, the staff tore from Fornaskr’s hands and landed firmly in her own.

  A hum of energy coursed through her fingers, running up her arm like a river finding its way home. She stared at the staff in awe, tracing the carved runes with her eyes, drinking in the living power that pulsed within. For a long moment, she simply held it, marveling at the bond.

  Then she released her grip, and the staff floated before her, drawing a collective gasp from the gathered Sylari. Some pressed hands to their chests, others murmured blessings under their breath, and all watched with wide, reverent eyes as though witnessing the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy. Suspended by thought alone, it spun slowly at first, then faster, twirling gracefully around her before she caught it again in a clean, fluid motion. An amused smile touched her lips.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  When she looked up, Fornaskr and the gathered Sylari were watching in hushed awe. She held the staff to her side, bowed her head, and said softly, “Thank you for this gift. I will carry it with honor.”

  The gathered Sylari began to disperse slowly, murmurs of reverence passing through them as they returned to their morning routines. Fornaskr lingered, then stepped forward to Ariel’s side. Together they turned and began walking toward the gate leading to the Wisp’s grove.

  For a while, they walked in silence, the sound of their footsteps mingling with the rustle of leaves overhead. Finally, Fornaskr spoke, his voice thoughtful. “It suits you. The staff, I mean. It was meant for your hand.”

  Ariel glanced down at the runes glowing faintly in her grip, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It feels… alive. Like it knows me somehow. I’ve never held anything like it.”

  “That is because it chose you,” Fornaskr replied. “Not every branch would give itself, even for the Savior. But this one did. It is bound to you now, as surely as you are bound to this forest.”

  Ariel nodded slowly, her gaze drifting ahead to the towering gate. “It’s a heavy thought. That the forest itself has expectations of me.”

  “Perhaps,” he said with a faint chuckle. “Or perhaps it only asks you to be what you already are. Strong. Steadfast. Unyielding in the face of shadow.”

  She shook her head with a quiet laugh. “I didn’t feel so unyielding last night. I thought I was going to break.”

  “But you did not,” Fornaskr answered simply, his eyes steady on her. “You endured. That is all the forest requires.”

  Ariel let his words sink in as they reached the edge of the clearing. Her steps grew firmer, her grip on the staff more confident. Fornaskr glanced at her and asked quietly, “Are you ready to go see the Wisp and hear what she has to say?”

  Ariel released her hold on the staff, letting it hover beside her. With a subtle twist of her fingers, she set it twirling in the air before it steadied at her side, suspended by her will. She met Fornaskr’s gaze and nodded. “I’m ready.”

  Whatever lay in wait for her, she would meet it head-on. And with the Sylari at her back, she no longer felt alone.

  The gate opened smoothly, vines curling back to let them pass into the sacred grove. As Ariel and Fornaskr stepped inside, the scars of yesterday’s battle still marred the land. The fallen tree lay across the grove floor where Deyfa’s unseen force had crushed it down. The earth was torn and splintered, gouged by scythe, hammer, and dark sorcery.

  Ariel slowed, her eyes sweeping over the damage. Her heart tightened at the sight—the forest had fought for her, and it bore the wounds still. Lifting her staff, she drew a circle in the air with her free hand. Power stirred, green light spiraling outward. The fallen tree lifted, roots threading into the soil as its trunk knit back together, splinters fusing until bark was whole once more. The earth mended beneath her touch, torn roots reknitting, flowers blooming again where scars had been. When the last glow faded, the grove stood whole, as though the battle had never scarred it at all.

  The air shimmered above them, and from the sky the Wisp of the Woods descended, her glow brighter than it had been the day before. She hovered before them, pulsing with gentle warmth. “You have done well,” she said, voice carrying a note of gratitude. “Thank you for repairing my grove.”

  Ariel bowed her head slightly. “I couldn’t leave it in disarray. This grove matters—to the forest, to the Sylari, and to me.”

  The Wisp tilted toward her, blinking with a gentle rhythm. “And you? Are you well-rested? Does your spirit hold steady?”

  Ariel gave a small nod, her voice quiet but firm. “I slept well enough last night. I’m ready to face what’s ahead.”

  The Wisp blinked steady, saying nothing for a long moment. Then she drifted closer, her light softening. “I have thought much on what must be done," The Wisp began, pulsing quicker. "Each island carries within it something vital, just as the Eiranths are to this forest. I fear those core objects are what the corruption seeks to claim, warping them as it did the bloom.”

  Her glow dimmed faintly, her pulses steady but slow. “It will be dangerous. The Acolytes are unscathed by your battle yesterday. To face them all together would be to court death. Caution must be your ally, Ariel—and yours as well, Fornaskr.”

  Ariel turned her head slightly, and her eyes met Fornaskr’s. No words passed between them, but the resolve in both their gazes was unmistakable.

  The Wisp then floated closer still, her radiance settling on the staff Ariel carried. She pulsed several times, a curious hum emanating from her. “The wood of that staff is old—very old. It came from a Veyra Tree, the oldest in this forest.” The Wisp released a sound almost like an amused chuckle, strange and melodic. “It is no coincidence the branch parted from that tree. Its roots are bound with those of the Eiranth itself.”

  She pulsed once more, softly, contemplatively. “Interesting.”

  The Wisp grew quiet again, her glow dimming as though she were lost in thought. Ariel took a step forward, tightening her grip on the staff. “Where should I go first?” she asked softly.

  The Wisp’s glow brightened once more, her pulsing steadying. “To reach the other islands, you must bridge the gaps between them. Your power—especially now, carried through a branch of the Veyra Tree—will allow you to do so. With it, the void between this forest and the next island will not bar your path.”

  The Wisp’s glow slowed again, her pulses soft and uneven. After a long pause, she inclined toward them. “Forgive me. There is much I must think about.” With that, she drifted upward and away, her light slipping into the canopy until it vanished among the trees.

  Ariel and Fornaskr exchanged confused glances but shrugged it off for now. There were more important things to worry about at the moment.

  Ariel exhaled and said quietly, “I don’t know what to expect going forward… but I’m ready. I have to find a way back to Holly, and maybe—just maybe—in healing this broken world, I’ll find the path back to her.”

  Fornaskr’s expression softened as he gave a resolute nod. “Then I will follow you, Ariel. To the edges of the world and beyond, if that is what it takes to heal this place, and help you return to the one you love.”

  With a look of shared resolve and understanding, they turned and began the walk back toward the village. The path stretched before them, quiet and sure, carrying them toward whatever trials awaited; the first steps of a greater journey.