You trusted us and the fire has been stopped. You can see our power?
Arborra’s voice had a soothing ring as I leaned against the wall of her heart center, regarding the maze of light that populated from my touch. Cool vapor saturated this calm, easy chamber in which to escape.
“I see your power.”
Do you trust us?
“I do trust you.”
A powerful gift.
Nightmares of charred Letum Wood played back through my mind. I shuddered. Prevention would be our only guarantee . . . if such a thing was possible. Besides, the trees had proven valuable and powerful yesterday. I couldn’t discount that they were ready and able to help.
The question was how?
Many saplings died. We mourn them, but the forest continues on. With time and magic, the older trees will recover.
“I wish we hadn’t lost any.”
All are in agreement, but their loss is not wasted. We are empowered to help more now. We have learned. We grow. The forest craves the ability to care for itself. For all our lives, Deasylva has appointed other witches to care for us. The time for Letum Wood to stand on its own has come.
“Caring for yourself is different than fighting a god, perhaps being utterly destroyed.”
Is it?
“I thought so,” I muttered, “until you asked it back. You wouldn’t happen to remember a god magic amulet named Nicomedianthekus, would you?”
Murmurs replied in waves, indistinguishable for language. A collective feeling of the forest speaking, then fading, filled Arborra from the inside out. When I focused on one tone, one voice, I could almost hear what they said. Minutes passed, as if Arborra asked all of the forest and all of the forest replied.
Arborra’s response elevated above the others.
None recognize such a name.
“Unfortunate.”
We remember the gods’ love for the land. Their ruthlessness with justice. Their ability to lie for what they wanted. Tontes, above all, remains a blight on history.
“Why?”
He was close once with Sarena, goddess of sand and dune. Deasylva had always been Sarena’s favorite, and Tontes hated our goddess for it. Sarena left and our goddess has been elusive since.
“Can a goddess leave?”
We know not where she went.
“Interesting.”
That deeper intricacies lay between the gods and goddesses didn’t startle me. Frustration lay in the stories, however. Beneath the paltry details we knew worked powerful beings we couldn’t predict. According to Papa, understanding an enemy was only as powerful as knowing their motive.
But how to understand a goddess?
A vengeful god?
Everyone wanted something, which applied to Ventis and Tontes. Unfortunately, we wanted the same thing. I pushed away from the wall.
“Do you know how to destroy their amulets?”
No.
My lips pushed to one side of my face.
Can trees obtain amulets?
“I don’t see why not. We’ll need your help, if demigods come to Letum Wood at some point.”
Then we are willing.
I would have laughed at this absurd conversation if thoughts of gods didn’t have me so distracted.
“The gods are actively attacking. Hurricanes in the East and North, the fire here, and who-knows-where-else.”
The cold lands?
“The Southern Network? I haven’t heard of any troubles so far.”
The trees in the cold lands speak to us. They are one with us, though distant. They tell us of searching and missing and remembrances and the god of cold lands and ice.
Searching.
Missing.
Remembrances.
We are stronger and more resilient than you thought. Do you agree?
The eagerness made me smile.
“I admit that you are. I thought . . .”
The words trailed away.
Silence followed.
Arborra wouldn’t reply until I’d finished my thought, but I wasn’t sure how. With a sigh, I slouched against the wall.
“I thought that fire was the end. That trees couldn’t be healed or recover from flames. The saplings have always been so afraid. Years ago, even, when West Guards set fire to towns. The first voices I heard feared fire.”
Fire is frightening, but beneficial. It does not uproot us, which is our ultimate end. Some saplings have gone to the lands and lives beyond, but many will stay. It’s their path. Deasylva has plans for all her creations.
My hand rose to my chest, closed in a fist. The trees we lost would never come back. Their absence lingered like a wound on my soul. A scar. A fractured portion. It brought to light a bigger problem than I wanted to admit. The same problem that circled my head, only in Grandfather’s voice.
My absolute, irrevocable tie to the forest.
You are so much bigger than that.
The question no longer remained whether Letum Wood would survive. It had changed to whether both of us would survive. How much of Letum Wood could die before I felt the effects?
Would I survive Letum Wood’s devastation? Unlikely, but supposition made for a terrible friend.
“Why do the saplings speak so much, but the older trees so little?”
The saplings have much to learn.
“Can I speak to the older trees?”
Why couldn’t you?
“Sometimes I want to ask them questions or know what they’re thinking, but they’re so quiet. It makes it seem like only the saplings fill Letum Wood.”
You have only to ask.
I frowned. “Is it that easy?”
You are the Lady-witch of Letum Wood.
The loaded statement meant something—an allusion to my title ascribing to me a power that I hadn’t used. The thought made me uncomfortable, but I wasn’t sure why.
I straightened away from the wall, fingertips brushing the sides. Prisms of light chased across the space to fade into the obscure darkness on the other side, where no light touched.
“I’ll try that.”
Promise and determination strengthened Arborra’s voice, a resolution I had no real power against. We have also been preparing for this moment, Lady-witch. Should you wish to protect us, you will not hamper our chance to rise to our potential.
“As an army? You wish to destroy instead of create?”
We wish to live.
Their words arrested my thoughts. I released a long breath, bothered by how deeply Arborra’s desire affected me. Tied into all the other intricacies, my connection to the forest had become a tangled web.
“Battle is not what you think it is.”
We have seen more than you.
“I know.”
We are prepared.
“I’m aware. You will fight next to me, Arborra. I promise.”
It’s all we ask.