Faelith Nymwren's Arc

Chapter 1 of 5

Faelith Nymwren had walked this same stretch of Silk Grove Hollow for six days, and the forest was still dying. She knelt and pressed her palm to a gray fern. Her magic answered, as it always did, but wrong. Green raced up the stem, then curled black at the tip. She pulled her hand back. Flowers obeyed her. She could not command them to live. Somewhere past these dead paths grew the sleeping heart-tree, and its bloom would wake magic in every rotting corner of the Hollow. But she kept circling the same fallen logs and thorned vines, alone, with no one to show her the way. A cry cut through the trees. Not a bird. A small, high voice, calling for help. Faelith ran. A yipping sound pulled her left, off the dead path. A white fox stood between two roots, waiting for her. Its nine tails glowed faint blue and green. It had bright green eyes, like hers. When she reached it, it turned and darted ahead, glancing back to be sure she followed. The fox stopped at a thick web strung between branches. A tiny winged creature hung tangled in the silk. She thrashed her small arms, and her leaf-like wings tore against the threads. Above her, a dark spider climbed down, slow and certain. Faelith did not think. She raised her hand. Vines burst from the ground and wrapped the spider, dragging it back into the brush. Then she reached for the web itself. This time her magic came steady. She loosened each thread with careful fingers and coaxed the silk apart. The sprite dropped into her cupped palms, shaking. "You're safe," Faelith said. "I have you." The sprite caught her breath. She sat up in Faelith's hands, no taller than a thumb, and looked at the black-curled ferns around them. "You're the one killing your own magic," she said. "You push it. You should ask it." Faelith blinked. "Ask it." "Watch." The sprite flew to the poisoned fern. She laid both hands on it and went still. "Feel where it hurts first. Heal that. Not the whole thing at once." Faelith knelt again. She found the sick root at the base and let her magic move slow, gentle, asking. Green spread up the stem and held. No black curl. The fern lived. She laughed, surprised, and the sprite grinned. "I know these woods," the sprite said. "The old paths, the safe ones. You've been walking in a ring for days. I can lead you out." The fox pressed against Faelith's knee. Above them, a tangle of hanging vines bloomed open on its own, purple and blue, lit from within by white crystal flowers. A door, glowing, where none had been. "That way leads deeper," the sprite said. Her smile faded. "Toward the heart-tree. But deeper is where the dark things wake." Faelith stood. For the first time in six days, she knew which way to go.