Faelith Nymwren's Arc

Chapter 5 of 5

The pond ran clear, but Faelith could not stand. Her legs folded under her at the water's edge. The leaf pendant lay cold in her palm now. She reached for her magic and found nothing. No green stirred. No vine answered. She had poured every drop into the pond, and it had not come back. Caelan caught her before she hit the moss. He lifted her without a word. His arm held her steady against his chest, and she felt his heartbeat, slow and sure. "You gave too much," he said. "You need rest." He carried her to his tent. Moss covered its slanted sides, and vines hung over the flap like a curtain. Inside, soft light glowed from a low fire. He set her down on a bed of ferns and folded a cloak over her. His great black wolf lay across the entrance, an emerald mark bright on its brow. It watched her with violet eyes and did not move. For two days she slept and woke and slept again. Caelan brought her water and roots to chew. He said little. He checked the wolf, fed the fire, and sat near her through the dark hours. Each time she opened her eyes, he was there. On the third morning she could stand. She could walk. But her magic stayed silent, a hollow place behind her ribs. She stepped out of the tent into the light. "I have to try something," she told Caelan. He followed. She went to the falls first. Water dropped from a tall gray peak in wide silver sheets. Golden fireflies drifted through the mist. Faelith pressed her hand to the wet stone. The water slowed. It curled toward her fingers. A warmth rose up her arm and settled into her chest, filling the hollow place a little. She walked to the pond. The pink lilies opened wider as she knelt. Green light lifted off the water and wound around her wrists. She breathed it in. The empty feeling shrank. Last she found the elder willow. Its long branches swept the ground, hung with flowers in colors she had no names for. She wrapped both arms around its trunk. The tree shivered. Petals loosed and spun down over her hair. A steady current of magic flowed from the bark into her skin, warm and slow and deep. Faelith stepped back. She held up one hand and asked a fern at her feet to grow. It uncurled at once, quick and strong. Her magic had returned, and it ran deeper than before. "They gave it back," she said. "Everything we healed. It's healing me now." Caelan looked at the willow, the falls, the pond. "The forest remembers," he said. Faelith touched the pendant at her throat. It pulsed warm again. She was strong enough now. The heart-tree was still days ahead, and for the first time she believed she could reach it.