Nimue's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

The morning air bit at Nimue's face as she stood outside the workshop. Yesterday's glowing sphere still hung somewhere above, carrying her message to the sky. Today she needed to understand the ground beneath her feet before building upward. She walked east toward the forest edge where old maps showed a spring. The path twisted between rocks and wild grass until she found it—water bubbling up from dark earth, forming a clear pool. She knelt and touched the surface. Cold shocked her fingertips. The water tasted clean and sharp. This spring would keep her alive during long building days when she couldn't leave her work. She marked the location with three stacked stones and walked back. Knowing where water lived meant one less thing to worry about. The bridge needed her full attention, and now the land had given her what she needed to stay. Past the spring, deeper in the forest, she found something that stopped her breath. A redwood stood taller than any tree she'd seen, its trunk wider than her workshop. Branches curled endlessly upward in patterns that seemed impossible. Glowing ivy wrapped around the bark, its light soft even in daylight. She circled the tree twice, craning her neck to follow its height. The branches reached toward the sky like they were built for climbing. Nature had already solved the problem she faced—growing upward without falling. She pressed her palm against the trunk and felt its strength. If a living thing could rise this high, then her bridge could too. The tree had roots deep in the ground and branches that touched clouds. Her structure would need both foundations and faith. She took a cutting of the glowing ivy and placed it in her pocket. The redwood had shown her the path. Now she just had to follow it with stone and magic instead of bark and root. She kept walking until the forest opened into a grove she hadn't seen before. Small trees twisted between larger ones, their trunks thin but alive with growth. Near a moss-covered log, she spotted a bonsai no taller than her knee. Its branches draped over what looked like a small lantern made of colored glass. The glass caught the filtered sunlight and threw soft colors across the ground. She knelt beside it and saw the same glowing ivy from the redwood growing along its tiny trunk. The light would shine brighter after dark. She carefully lifted the whole thing, roots and soil and glass together, and carried it back toward the workshop. At night, when she worked on her notes and drawings, this small tree would give her light without fire or oil. The forest had given her water, shown her height, and now offered light for the dark hours. Everything she needed to build her bridge lived in this place. She just had to listen and look. The path back led her past ruins she'd missed in the morning rush. Twisted vines and moss formed walls and pillars that once belonged to something greater. She stepped between them and found a shrine at the center, its surfaces covered in green growth and shadow. The air here felt heavy, like twilight had soaked into the ground and stayed. Carved stones at the base showed star patterns and moon phases worn smooth by years. People had stood here once, watching the sky, mapping what they saw above. They'd built this place to honor their work, their dedication to understanding heights she now tried to reach. She touched the carved stars and felt the grooves under her fingers. These watchers had looked up just like she did now. Their shrine still stood after they were gone, proof that some things lasted when built with purpose. She left the ruins and headed home. The forest had given her everything today—water to drink, a tree that showed her how to climb, light for dark hours, and a reminder that others had reached for the sky before her. Tomorrow she would return to her stones and begin lifting them toward her sister.