When Master Birch met Treffen at the edge of the valley, Treffen was still repeating the ancient Branchborn’s words.
“The Silver Bear? The Twisted Tree?” The old elf scratched at the back of his neck. “These words mean nothing to me.”
Treffen shrugged.
“The Grafted Gem . . .” Master Birch paused. “That can only be one person. Our daughter Emerald may be in danger.”
Princess Emerald was no elf, and the “daughter” was honorary. Her own father was Jasper III, king of all Crystalia. Like Treffen, the girl had never been at home behind stone walls. However, unlike Treffen’s family, her father had embraced her wild nature, encouraging her explorations when she was very young. The elves had taken to the green-haired child, training her in the ways of the forest. She had learned beside Treffen, nearly matching him in woodlore. The only Ranger skill she couldn’t master was the bow, and she solved that by carrying a dwarf-made rifle. She took to the ways of the Rangers like one born to it, a vine grafted onto another that became one single plant.
“We had a message from the king,” Master Birch continued. “He’s asked us to keep a lookout for her. Emerald has been all over Crystalia searching for her missing sister these past two years. She was here a few weeks ago, consulting with the Druids. She took off into the Wood, and no one has heard a word from her since then. The king is beside himself.”
“Emerald can take care of herself.” Treffen grinned. “Sooner or later she’ll find her sister and drag her back to the Castle by the ear.”
“The Druids said she was quite agitated. They wouldn’t share the wisdom they gave her, but they did say it upset her. I fear that dark times lie ahead.”
Master Birch bid Treffen goodnight and disappeared toward the house he shared with his mate and children.
Treffen didn’t have a house. Most young elves began crafting their homes long before looking for a mate so that children would be born under a solid, living roof. But Treffen was years from such concerns, so he set to work preparing a bed of the cedar boughs he was named for.
The Deeproot Tree’s prophecy rattled in his head. The Grafted Gem. Emerald missing. He hadn’t seen her since Princess Amethyst disappeared, and he longed to tell his old friend all about the Tree’s words. She’ll be fine. She always is. But despite Master Birch’s training, Treffen had nearly been lunch for a King Sprout. The evil in Crystalia was growing, and his stomach felt sour imagining all the dangers his old friend might encounter in her search. What had the Druids told her that sent her running into the Wood?
He sighed, reveling in the Tree’s nearness. Her power thrummed through the ground and into his prone body. He remembered the feeling of holding hands with the Still, how for a brief moment, he had been one with the Tree. Few elves ever received an audience with the Deeproot. Whatever She wants me to do in Stonebridge, it must be important.
A strong breeze rustled the leaves around him, whispering an echo of the Goddess’s song of life. The elven stories said that once her song chimed freely through the kingdom, but darkness choked her voice until only the quietest mind could hear the trace, carried on the night breeze.
Tomorrow at dawn he would leave for Stonebridge, a full Ranger on his first official mission.
I’ll find whatever the Tree has sent me for. I’ll find Emerald, and word of my success will reach even the stone halls of my father. Treffen drifted off to sleep with a smile on his pale lips.