Clover willow's Arc

Chapter 17 of 20

The willow bloomed faster now. Flowers spilled down the vines and burst open on the ground. Clover felt the grove pulling on her, hungry for more magic. She had healed the blight and nearly emptied herself. The sacred pond gave back only half her strength. Now the tree wanted all of it, and she had barely enough to stand. Lunaria Starwhisper hovered above the branches, her four wings dusting silver light across the flowers. Blue blossoms opened in her long hair. "Bind it before dark," she said. "Reach into the roots. Ask it to slow, the way you calmed the grove before." "I don't have the strength," Clover said. Her legs shook already. "If I push now, I might not get up." The guardian gripped her arm. "Then don't," he said. His baby-blue eyes were hard with fear. "I won't watch you fall for this tree." Clover looked at the willow. Its leaves flashed every color at once, brighter and brighter. If it bloomed to ruin, the grove she had chosen would die. So would his home. She had promised to stay. This was what staying cost. "It's my promise that woke it," she said. "So it's mine to hold." She pressed both palms flat against the twisting bark. The magic hit her like cold water. She felt the roots racing under the meadow, pushing sap too fast. She did not fight them. She reached down with what little she had left and spoke into the wood. "Slow," she said. "You have waited a long time. You can wait a little more." The tree pulled at her. Her half-strength drained out through her hands. Black spots crowded her sight. The blooming did not stop. She poured out more than she had, scraping the bottom of herself. "Clover." The guardian's voice came from far away. Then the little white dragon dropped from the high branches. It landed on the bark between her hands, trailing sparks. It pressed its small body against the wood beside her palms. A thread of its light slid into the tree. It was not healing magic. It was choosing, the same way it had chosen the guardian. The pull on Clover eased. The tree took the dragon's gift instead of the last of her. The frantic blooming slowed. Flowers still opened, but softly now, one by one. The colors settled to a steady glow. Clover's knees gave. The guardian caught her before she hit the ground. "I have you," he said. Lunaria drifted down, smiling. "It's bound. The grove is safe." She touched a calm branch and rose again into the light. Clover lay in the guardian's arms, spent and empty. The willow held its bloom, quiet at last. But her healing power was gone now, not half but all of it, poured into the tree. She had saved the grove and lost the one thing she had always given him. "You're empty," the guardian said quietly. "What happens now?"