Faelith Nymwren's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

The glowing door of vines closed behind Faelith. The sprite flew ahead, and the white fox padded beside her, its nine tails casting soft light. The ground turned dark and bare. A winding trail of worn earth cut through the trees, scattered with dead leaves and old roots. Here the poison ran deepest. Black veins spread across the tree trunks. Faelith knelt where the trail split and pressed her hand to the sick ground. "Not the whole thing," she told herself. "Feel where it hurts first." She closed her eyes and let her magic go slow. It searched under the soil. It found the source, a knot of rot buried at the roots of the biggest tree. She did not push. She asked. Heal here first. Warmth moved down her arm. The rot loosened. Green crept up from the base of the trunk and held. It did not curl black. The tree drank the healing and lived. Faelith opened her eyes. The dark veins on the tree were fading. She laughed. For the first time her magic had done what she wanted, deep in the woods where it mattered most. Then the fox went stiff. Its tails stopped glowing. A branch cracked. Something stepped onto the trail ahead. A stag, huge and wrong. Black cracks split its hide, glowing red like coals. Smoke leaked from its sides. Dark liquid dripped from its antlers and hissed on the earth. Its eyes burned red. It lowered its head and snarled at her. Faelith raised her hand. Vines shot up from the ground and grabbed its legs. The stag tore through them like thread. It charged. She stumbled back, too slow. Steel flashed between them. A man leapt from the trees and drove his shoulder into the stag's neck. He swung a sword and cut across its chest. The stag screamed and backed away, smoke pouring from the wound. He stood over Faelith, blade up, planted between her and the beast. "Stay down," he said. No fear in it. Just an order. The stag charged again. He met it and drove his sword deep. The red glow in its body flickered and died. It fell, went to ash, and blew apart on the wind. He lowered the sword and turned. Dark hair, blue eyes, a green cloak stitched with gold. A prince's clothes, worn ragged from travel. "Caelan Evergreene," he said. "Prince of Wystlera. My forest is rotting too. I'm hunting the heart-tree." "So am I," Faelith said. He looked at the healed tree behind her, the green climbing its trunk. "You did that." "I'm learning how." He held out his hand and pulled her up. His grip was warm. Something in her chest pulled toward him, sudden and strange. He felt it too. She saw it in how he did not let go right away. "Then we go together," he said. "I'll keep the dark things off you." The fox's tails glowed again. The trail waited ahead. Faelith was no longer alone.