The entire forest is thick with life, vibrating with magic, a pulse that comes from the earth itself. Every step I take, I feel it beneath my feet—a heartbeat, steady and strong, as if The Grove itself recognizes me.
Zyphoro remains silent at my side, her eyes sweeping across the lush landscape with quiet curiosity, while Solena seems more at ease, her steps lighter as we continue through the overgrowth. But my heart beats a little faster with every step, a tension tightening in my chest. Despite the beauty and serenity of The Grove, there is no ignoring the darkness that still follows us, a shadow that clings to the edges of this peaceful place, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Then suddenly, I hear them—the voices I’ve longed for, the ones I’ve missed more than anything in this world. Their absence has been a hollow ache, a bottomless pit that has widened with every passing day since the last time I heard them.
Amara. Jewel. You have returned.
I freeze, my breath catching in my throat, my heart swelling until it feels like it might burst. Tears well at the corners of my eyes, unstoppable. I press my hand against a tree, the rough bark warm and alive beneath my palm, and I feel them—the Souls of the Forest—coursing through the earth, through the air, through me. Every nerve in my body sparks to life, ignited by their presence.
Yes, I answer.You cannot know how much I have missed you.
Amara. You feel so sad.
That simple statement undoes me. The dam breaks, and the tears spill over. I crumble against the tree, my knees giving way as the weight of it all, the burden I’ve carried, comes crashing down. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, I let myself feel the fear, the despair, the brokenness that I have hidden away.
I have been so terrified—terrified to leave The Grove, terrified of what awaited me across the Untold Sea, terrified of Baev’kalath and the husband who waited for me there. But I buried that fear, locked it away beneath the façade of duty, telling myself that I had to be strong, that I had no other choice.
Admitting my fear would have meant admitting that I wasn’t as strong as I pretended to be. And that was the only thing that got me through any of it—the belief that I was capable of facing everything alone. But now, here, in my forest, within the embrace of the Souls, I feel stripped bare. Exposed.
When I remember that Solena and Zyphoro stand behind me, I fight to compose myself, wiping my cheeks with my sleeve and sniffling back the last of my tears. They look at each other. Anywhere but at me.
“We’re almost there,” I say, forcing my voice to steady despite the ragged breaks. I pull my hand away from the tree and continue forward, guiding them through the forest.
As we venture deeper, the air around us shifts, becoming thick with the scent of damp earth and lush foliage. Stone archways, etched with runes and draped in vibrant moss, emerge from the overgrowth, carving a winding path through the verdant wilderness. Then the sound of water reaches my ears—a gentle roar that grows louder as we approach. A waterfall tumbles gracefully over the edge of a moss-covered bank, cascading into a crystal-clear stream below. The water sparkles in the sunlight, a lively ribbon weaving through the underbrush, guiding us toward the heart of the forest.
We follow the stream to the vine wall, a massive curtain of living, writhing vines that serve as The Grove’s strongest and final defense. Wings snap the air, and I look up to see the remaining Blades walking the wall.
“Open,” I call. “I am Amara Tyne. Jewel of the Tenders. I have returned.”
I hear my name whispered on the breeze, spreading from one mouth to the next until the entire forest seems to herald my return. The gates of the vine wall part, the thick greenery unfurling to reveal The Grove. We step through, and immediately, I feel I am home.
Wooden steps wind around thick trunks to reach the dwellings nestled in their branches high above, where soft lamp light casts a warm amber glow through the windows. Rope bridges of vines crisscross between the treetops, swaying gently with the breeze while below, on the forest floor, smaller cottages sit cradled within between giant roots, their walls covered in moss, blending so perfectly into the landscape that you might miss them at first glance.
A deer passes by, moving lazily between the homes, and a pair of rabbits scurry underfoot. No one pays them any mind—this is their home too. The people of The Grove move in harmony with the animals, weaving between the creatures as naturally asthey do each other. The scent of fresh earth and wild herbs fills my lungs as I take it all in. The sounds of daily life hum in the background: children laughing, tools working against wood, quiet conversations flowing as easily as the streams that run alongside the homes.
I pass a group of villagers sitting beneath an ancient oak, sewing and chatting softly, their clothes simple, woven from linen and dyed with the colors of the forest. One of the women looks up as I pass, her face lighting with recognition. “Amara,” she says, her voice filled with warmth, and the others soon follow suit, murmuring my name like it’s a song they’ve missed.
The further we walk, the deeper I feel the connection to this place, to its people. Every root, every leaf seems to pulse with life, and with each step, it’s as if The Grove welcomes me back, wrapping me in its steady embrace. The ache in my chest eases, but the weight of what I’ve seen, what I’ve escaped, lingers just beneath the surface.
Ahead, the center of The Grove waits—the great vine-covered hall where Keeper Tovar and the council reside. I glance at Zyphoro, whose gaze is already sweeping over the village with quiet interest, while Solena walks close beside me, her eyes flicking between the trees, wary but curious.
The vines that cover the doorway of the hall slowly untangle and pull back, parting with a soft, whispering rustle as Keeper Tovar steps forward. He is as much a part of the forest as the ancient trees that shelter The Grove, his tall, lean frame draped in a cloak woven from moss and ivy. His long, braided hair, a mix of silver and deep brown, cascades over his shoulders, blending with the natural hues of the woods. His skin, the rich tone of fertile soil, bears the lines of age and wisdom, each wrinkle telling stories only the forest itself might remember.
In his hand, he carries a staff of gnarled, ancient wood, twisted like the roots of the deepest trees. The wood is etchedwith faintly glowing runes, symbols of protection and knowledge pulsing with soft, emerald light. His sharp, oak-brown eyes widen in surprise as he takes in my presence.
"Amara," Tovar breathes, and I notice his throat bob.
“Keeper Tovar,” I murmur, bowing my head slightly.
His eyes search mine, as if to confirm that I am truly here, his hand rising to touch the vines around the doorway for stability. “You’ve… returned,” he says, his voice filled with wonder. “I feared… I feared we might never see you again.” His arms unfurl. “Come to me, child.”
I waste no time running up the stairs and throwing my arms around his waist, burying the side of my face in his chest. He wraps one arm around my shoulder, while his hand gently strokes my hair, his head resting gently above mine.
This man is not just our Keeper, he is our guardian, our guide, and the closest thing I had to a parent after mine perished in the Betrayer’s Battle. In fact, the entire Tenders Council became my family, but it was always Tovar I idolized the most.
Wise. Kind. Fair. Loyal.All the things I wanted to be.
Slowly we part and Tovar’s expression softens with relief, but it doesn’t take long before his gaze shifts toward the strangers at my back. His brow furrows slightly as he takes them in, his voice dropping lower.
