“The Souls told us you were here,” Mirael says softly when we finally part, her voice carrying the gentle hum of the forest.
“We thought you’d visit us sooner,” Saren adds, a hint of playfulness in her tone.
“Keeper Tovar and the council kept me longer than expected,” I explain, my voice tight with the weight of it all. “He is displeased with me. I fled Baev’kalath, and now he fears the Mordorin will bring their wrath upon The Grove.”
They exchange knowing glances, concern etching their faces, but they remain silent. Instead, they take my hands and lead me to the shrine. We sit in our familiar circle, and as the rune tree pulses brighter, I close my eyes and share everything with them—Baev’kalath, the dark, looming presence of Kaelus and Lanneth, Gygarth, the demon of the void, and the relentless threats to my life since I entered that cursed place. Despite my attempts to hide it, they see Daedalus and I entwined under the moonlight in Pariseth, our bodies bare and tangled in passion.
When the vision fades, we face each other, but we are no longer alone. The Souls of the Forest have joined us, theirvoices whispering constantly in my mind, a symphony of unseen presences.
“They called me awakened,” I say, my voice trembling. “I can see through their glamors.”
Then you are a threat,the Souls whisper, their voices threading through my thoughts like vines.Anything that wields power outside their control is always a threat.
“I didn’t know,” I whisper.
You wouldn’t. The gift would not reveal itself until needed. Glamor magic does not exist within The Grove, but you have not yet touched the deeper mysteries of the Fae.
I glance down at my hand, where the wound is healed, not even a scar remaining. “I healed myself,” I murmur, almost ashamed. “I didn’t mean to, but... how could I have possibly done it? I thought the gift was to heal others. Not myself.”
There is a long pause before the Souls answer.
You take on another's pain when you heal them. But to heal yourself, that pain must be transferred. When you faced the demon of the void, the pain you carried turned into raw energy, which you used against him—and in doing so, healed yourself.
I swallow, dread tightening in my chest. “So... to heal myself, I have to give my pain to someone else?”
Yes,they reply, their tone steady and unwavering.
“How bad is it?” I ask.
You have been trained to absorb the pain through meditation and deep sleep. They have not. It would be excruciating for them. Perhaps even deadly.
The thought is as fascinating as it is horrifying, that I could be something monstrous—leeching life from others to preserve my own. Yet, in that moment, facing Gygarth, I was grateful. Without that power, I would not have survived. My fingers curl around the rune at my neck, feeling its pulse beneath my skin,and I notice my sisters do the same, their hands instinctively clutching their own runes as if seeking reassurance.
My lungs tighten as if my chest is caving in as I look at them—Lira, Mirael, and Saren—knowing that I am not telling them everything. My eyes glance at my belly. Is Zyphoro right? Do I carry the heir of House Mordorin? But I cannot tell them of the possibility. I’m ashamed of giving myself to the prince completely only to be deceived, and scared of how my sisters and the Souls will react.
I must carry this secret with me longer.
There is only one thing I am certain of, and I feel the truth settle in my bones. I may keep my secret for now, but I cannot run from what is coming.
“I must fight them now,” I say, my voice steady despite the whirlwind inside me. “All of them. The Mordorin. The Legion. I failed The Grove once by leaving, but I won’t fail it again.”
The words hang in the air, more final than anything I’ve said before. My heart pounds, a steady reminder of the price I’ve already paid, the sacrifices I’ve made—and those that are yet to come. But my resolve is clear. I cannot stand idle, not when I carry both the power to heal and the potential to destroy.
I am both a shield and a weapon.
Lira steps closer, her brows knitting together in concern. “Amara, you didn’t fail The Grove. You did what you had to do to survive.”
I shake my head, the guilt too heavy to dismiss so easily. “Surviving isn’t enough, not anymore. I need to protect this place—our home.”
Mirael touches my arm, her grip gentle but firm. “The Grove has always protected us, sheltered us. But if we’re truly under threat from both the Mordorin and the Legion... this fight won’t be like any we’ve faced before.”
I meet her gaze, feeling the gravity of the situation in every word. “Which is why I can’t do it alone.”
Saren’s eyes, always the quietest but most perceptive, search mine. “You won’t be alone,” she says softly. “We stand with you, Amara. We always have. But this path you’re choosing... it’s dangerous. What you can do with that power—it changes things.”
There’s a flicker of fear in her eyes, the same fear that I feel deep within myself. The fear that I may fight the enemy but become something unrecognizable in the process.
Something monstrous.
