Lydia the Siren's Arc

Chapter 29 of 37

By morning Lydia was worse. Her hands shook when she raised them. The ring of the crystal came through the window, and now it seemed aimed at her, only her. It pulled at something under her skin. Bastion sat on the bed's edge and pressed water to her lips. "I have to go to town," he said. "The healer keeps records. If the grove drained you, she'll know how to fix it." He tucked the blanket to her chin. "Rest. Don't move." "I'll try," she said. It was a lie. She heard the door close and the sound of his steps fade down the road. The ring grew louder. It was not in her ears. It was in her blood, the way the cave had once called her. She had lost her powers, but this call did not care. It knew her. She turned her head to the window and saw the far tree line, dark and shining. She put her feet on the floor. Her legs folded, so she crawled. She pulled herself across the boards, out the door, into the grass. The pull got stronger the closer she came, and stronger still fed her. She stood, staggered, walked. The forest opened before her, trees knotted together, some green, some pale, some with crystals grown into their bark. She expected the roots to strike. Last time they had trapped her, and Bastion had cut her free. Now they moved differently. They rose and curled beneath her feet, gentle as hands. They lifted her forward, passing her along, deeper into the wood. She did not fight. The ring filled her whole body now, warm, and it drowned the hollow ache that had been eating her. The roots set her down at the center. There stood the heart of the grove, a great crystal taller than a man. It threw blue and pink light across the moss. Cracks ran through it, and inside them Lydia saw shapes like branches, like breath. It was alive. The ring came from it, and up close the ring was not a warning. It was a welcome. Behind her the roots wove together. They rose in a wall, thick as arms, closing over her head. They did not crush. They sealed. She stood in a green room with the crystal, cut off from the world, from the road, from Bastion when he returned. Her weakness eased. Standing near the heart, the draining stopped. She felt the crystal reaching into the empty place inside her, the well that stew could never fill, and beginning to pour something back. She should have been afraid. She was not. For the first time since she lost her powers, the hollow under her ribs went quiet. She pressed her palm to the crystal's cold face. It hummed against her skin. The forest had taken her in and shut the door. Lydia was fed, and she was caught, and Bastion was walking home to an empty bed.