Dawn stained the world with muted umber, bringing Letum Wood back to life early the next morning.
I stood at the entryway to Arborra’s heart and drew in a deep breath. The other ancients, indescribably massive, populated behind my back. They were no less daunting a second time.
The thinning darkness revealed crossed branches of trees. Deep lattices painted with emerald and ebony. Moss clung to the bark, which smelled earthy. Dense heat lay on the world already.
I stepped inside the tree.
My fingers trailed the wall, illuminating a path of light that faded slowly. A low hum reverberated, resonating each time my finger crossed the line of a life ring. The melody rose up and down, warbling a faraway heartsong.
The warm darkness beckoned me, illuminated by racing bloodlines of aquamarine magic, and led to the space in the middle. An odd area of utter darkness, yet so full of life it brimmed.
Questions haunted me as I strode closer.
What if the demigods harmed Arborra or any of the others? Could Deasylva survive such an onslaught? These trees had seen all of life in Alkarra. Or thousands of years of it, anyway. Because when did Alkarra begin? The gods could wreak their powerful havoc here, and then where would we be? The thought made me shudder.
You are distressed, Arborra said.
“A little.”
You have spoken with your leaders.
A hardened trickle of sap pressed into my palm along the wall. I leaned into it, seeking an anchor. No sticky residue remained where the bump had crystallized. The glowing lights waned. Stillness in the pure black center returned.
“I spoke with my leaders to see if they would work with the dragons to protect Letum Wood.”
This has caused your distress?
“Yes.”
Tell us of the ways of witches.
“Well . . . no one thinks that my idea is a good idea.”
I propped my back against the wall. Light bloomed beneath me, momentarily brightening the murky space of the chamber. Not even the magic seemed to penetrate the blackness on the other side, like a dark veil, drawn against the world.
The dragons will protect their goddess.
“I know. I just . . . I think we could be more powerful if dragons and witches worked together to protect Letum Wood. The gods have so much power and so do the demigods. Dragons alone wouldn’t be able to protect all of the forest.”
We have power as well.
“What do you mean?”
We are mighty. If the witches will not work with the dragons, it will be time for us to fight.
“You mean the trees?”
Yes.
Other murmurs and hums escalated in assent. The other ancients. In the far reaches of my mind, I might have heard the same from far away. Echoes from without.
“How would the forest fight?”
As you have seen before.
Memories of the War of the Networks surfaced. They clarified quickly, and with greater detail than I expected, entering into my mind like smoke. Assisted, no doubt, by the forest, who likely had its own recollections to share.
Clavas had descended during the battle over Chatham Castle. Wraith-like creatures born of darkness. Vines found the Clavas, destroyed them. Roots strangled. Branches whacked.
Later, when I helped repair the injured parts of the forest—back when I first began to really hear the voices—the protection of the trees became more clear. They had provided shelter for the fleeing innocent and wrathful justice to the Clavas and West Guards who fought for Almorran magic.
“You helped witches to fight,” I murmured. “You fought Clavas, who didn’t hold their own magic. Not demigods with amulets. Not selfish gods with rage issues. This is so much bigger.”
We are strong.
“It’s too risky. This isn't your fight. The Council is the problem. They’re the ones that won’t come together and make a cohesive plan.” I sighed. “I don’t know. I just think that it’s not a great idea to pit trees against demigods. I don’t . . . I don’t like it.”
I couldn’t handle it if something terrible happened to Letum Wood, I thought, but didn’t want to say the words out loud. Speaking them made it irrefutable, and I wasn’t ready for that either.
Could trees understand these kinds of intricacies? What really mattered after thousands of years of life?
The dragons burden your mind.
The observation, drawn straight from my thoughts, didn’t bother me as much as it should have. Nor surprise me. Of course the forest knew what I thought. After all we’d been through, it nearly owned my soul.
“The dragons and I haven’t understood each other in the past. To work with them would be . . . difficult.”
We are aware.
“I’m . . . nervous, that’s all. But it seems like the right path forward.”
We will protect you.
“I know,” I quipped wryly. “That’s what concerns me the most.”
We trust you as we love you, but we cannot rely on your strength forever. We will fight. Allow us the honor, should it be required. This is our path as much as it is your path. We win together, not apart.
A long, halting moment stretched in the air, thrumming with my thoughts. Certainly, Arborra was correct. Alkarra—no, I—would be stronger with them than without. The thought turned my stomach, but so did reality.
Did I cling to my protection of Letum Wood too tightly? Had the time to loosen my hold a little bit come? Reluctantly, I admitted a grudging assent.
It’s not like I could stop the forest.
Marten’s observation haunted me. You’re so much bigger than that. The same dissonant chord struck as I attempted to understand. How could I be bigger than Letum Wood? My very positioning in Alkarra revolved around my role as the Lady-witch of Letum Wood. The forest defined me.
For all intents and purposes, I was the forest.
“I hear you,” I said to Arborra. “I don’t like it, but I hear you. When the time comes, we’ll . . . come up with a plan. Together.”
Delight brightened their ancient tone with a modicum of inflection. Our independence is all we ask.
“In the meantime, we’ll trust Scarlett. She’ll do the right thing.”
The trees will follow. The forest is yours to guide.
Arborra’s voice betrayed a hint of uncertainty, but glancingly so. In my own medley of emotions, I might have imagined it.
With false firmness I said, “Whatever happens, we’ll figure something out.”