She looked me up and down, then shifted her gaze to Grandma Elira, who nodded politely like we were just out for a nice stroll and not headed straight into the ancient, creaking heart of one of the oldest magical systems in the village.
Bella pointed toward the Ward door. “Its maple buddiesgrabbedme.”
“I remember,” I said. “But I don’t think it was trying to hurt you. I’ve already visited it once. I know it meant no harm. I was too busy scurrying from one mess to the next, not realizing how much the Maple Ward needed our help. You were just the unlikely target.”
Bella scowled. “You ever been hugged by a root system? Not exactly cozy.”
Elira smiled faintly. “Sometimes trees know more than people.”
Bella blinked at her, then at me. “Is that… am I supposed to feel better now?”
I chuckled and stepped forward and touched the door. It opened on its own.
Of course it did.
“I’m not asking you to come in,” I said. “But I have to go inside.”
She stared at me for a long second, then gave a sigh that sounded far too dramatic for the moment. “Just don’t let it eat you. I don’t want to explain that to Keegan.”
My grandma laughed, low and warm. “I’ll keep watch.”
I stepped inside, noticing the air hadn’t changed much. Still dim and close. Still filled with the scent of wood and damp earth and something older than memory.
But somethingwasdifferent.
The sapling hadgrown.
It was only a little, just a few new leaves, maybe an inch higher, but it was enough to catch my breath. It had heard me. Or felt me. Or simply decided to keep trying.
The elder maple loomed above it, quiet and still. There was peace in it now, which I hadn’t felt before, as if it had exhaled some of the weight it had held for so long.
I knelt next to the sapling and unwrapped the parchment. The spell sat in my palm, warm and pulsing—not in a dramatic way, but steady, like a heartbeat.
“Nutrients, stability, memory,” I whispered, tracing the runes lightly before pressing the paper into the soil beside the roots. “Let it find what it needs.”
The parchment glowed softly, then sank, disappearing into the earth like it had always belonged there. The sapling shivered once, merely a whisper of motion. Its leaves deepened in color.
I reached for the second spell.
This one wasn’t written so much as spoken into being. A gentle murmur of warmth, light, and rest. I shaped it above the old tree’s roots, slightly remembering my mom doing the same when I was young in our back yard.
“For what you’ve carried,” I said, letting the magic fall like a blanket, “and for what you’ve kept alive.”
The roots glowed faintly beneath the bark. Just for a moment. Just enough.
And then it happened.
The summoning bell rang.
I turned sharply, breath caught somewhere between my ribs.
Outside, I heard Elira’s footsteps and rose slowly, one hand still pressed against the tree trunk.
The bell rang again. Lower this time.
Calling.
Not just to me.
