My sisters look at me with arched brows.
“If we are to defend The Grove, our people will need more than just our healing,” I continue, slipping into the circle. “They will need the power of the sisters who came before us.”
I add my hands to the chain, and energy surges through us unbroken.
“That magic is dangerous,” Lira warns. “It will drain you dry, and no amount of sleep will restore what you’ve lost.”
“That is why the sisters before us let it go,” Mirael adds. “Focusing only on healing and growth.”
I shake my head. “That will not save us, sister.”
Saren smiles. “Our Jewel is right. We have been passive long enough. If we truly love The Grove, then we should do whatever it takes, no matter the price. Shouldn’t we?”
I look at Lira and Mirael, eager to see if Saren’s words have swayed them to our cause.
Mirael speaks first. “When I was chosen as a Sister of the Vine, I was told it was my duty to protect The Grove. How can we hold true to those oaths if we are not willing to risk ourselves? I say we fight.”
The three of us turn to Lira, who holds her ground for a moment before finally relenting, her shoulders slumping.
“Very well,” she exhales. “We fight.”
Soon, the Souls fills my mind, their voices soft yet powerful.
Amara,they greet me, their voices wrapping around me like the whisper of leaves in the wind.You ask for the power of the forest itself. It is not given lightly, but we will grant it to you. The Sisters of the Vine shall be amplified, their strength entwined with the ancient magic that flows through the trees, the rivers, the earth beneath your feet. You will have dominion over the forest, but the price remains: pain for pain.
I glance at my sisters, seeing their resolve harden. This is the burden we must carry if we are to protect The Grove. The Soulsoffer power beyond measure, but nothing comes free in this world. I already understand the weight of such a price—how the energy to heal or to harm must come from somewhere.
“We understand,” I say, my voice low but firm. “We accept the price.”
The others nod solemnly in agreement, and we drop to our knees, our hands pressing into the earth.
Then it begins.
The forest stirs around us, the trees groaning as if waking from a deep slumber. The glow of the runes in the shrine brightens, their fluorescent green light spilling over the branches and casting an eerie glow through the twisted limbs. Slowly, the light spreads—into the ground, through the roots, up into the trees. It moves like a pulse, the ancient magic of the forest coming alive with a power that thrums beneath our skin.
The glow intensifies, and as it reaches us, I feel it. The energy of the forest surges into me, filling each of us with the strength of the land itself. My body hums with it, the power thrumming through my veins, connecting me to the roots beneath my feet, to the leaves above, to every living thing within the forest.
The Souls of the Forest have infused us with their power, and I feel it in every breath, every heartbeat. We are not alone. The forest will fight with us, its strength ours to wield, but the reminder of the price lingers at the edges of my mind.Pain for pain.
I leave my sisters at the shrine and transport myself back to the clearing where Ashen waits for me, chasing moonbeams that shift between the rustling leaves. We return to the village, and as I walk through the darkness of the forest, the silence presses in on me, thick and stifling. The path back is familiar, one I’ve walked countless times, but tonight it feels different.
Everything feels different.
My mind is tangled in the weight of what’s happened—the power that thrummed through me in the den of the Sisters, the energy I absorbed, the warnings of pain for pain. I reach for the rune around my neck, my fingers tracing its worn edges, feeling the subtle charge that hums beneath my skin.
Ashen pads silently at my side, his small form blending into the shadows. And then I hear it—a sound behind me, a faint rustling, barely perceptible but unmistakable. I stop, my heart thudding in my ears, and listen.
Silence.
I take a few steps forward, but the noise comes again, closer this time. A shiver runs down my spine. Slowly, I turn, scanning the darkness behind me.
Nothing.
“Ashen,” I whisper, hoping for some comfort. He stays close, ears twitching, but even he seems tense.
Another sound—soft, deliberate, a warning. Someone's there. I can feel it, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. My mouth goes dry. “Who’s there? Show yourself.”
From the shadows, a figure steps forward, just beyond the reach of the moonlight.
