He searches the forest in every direction, but nothing has changed. He’s still here without her.
If only he had life magic to search these cursed woods for her, but he doesn’t.
Would his heart lead him to her? Is she even somewhere he can find from here?
He creates a golden light in his palm, which adds to the ominous shadows, but they’re just shadows. A trick of the light.
And none of this is real. It’s just the heartlanding. Isn’t it? The last time he had an unsettling dream, it was about Elowyn, but it didn’t feel like the heartlanding that time. It was all wrong.
This felt like the heartlanding until he stepped off the train.
So what is the heartlanding trying to teach them tonight?
Perhaps they’re supposed to learn to find each other. To search for each other when the world around them is crumbling.
But where is he even supposed to start? The only sense he has of her is her pounding heart. It’s calmed slightly as he’s stood here contemplating their situation. At least she seems to be somewhere safe and not somewhere in peril.
Closing his eyes, he focuses on the beating of their hearts. His pulse is accelerated, but it’s her heart driving his increased heart rate more than his own. Perhaps if he calms her, she’ll sense his presence and know he’s searching for her.
He slows and steadies his breath. In and out. Over and over. Eventually, her heart rate returns to something closer to normal.
Wherever she is, she doesn’t seem to be terrified. Not by her surroundings, at least.
Which probably means one thing.
She didn’t follow him off the train.
He can’t really blame her.
Where is the train, though? Can he reach it from here?
Cerian stands with his light extended as he studies the forest again.
He’ll find her. If she can be found, he’ll find her.
With his magic, he reaches into the soil at his feet to create a field of daisies in case he needs to find this spot again. The magic fights him, making it far more difficult than it should be to pull the white flowers from the ground, and when he manages it, they look small and spindly.
It’s good enough for what he needs, though.
Taking a deep breath, he steps warily into the surrounding forest, each foot placed carefully as he keeps his fire magic at the ready, since these woods don’t seem to answer well to his plant magic.
He draws out more pathetic flowers as he goes, but it’s draining. He’ll need food soon at this rate. Does he dare eat anything in these woods?
Perhaps the heartlanding will give him something.
“I wish for an apple.” He holds out his hand, and the heartlanding is kind enough to grant his request, but he stumbles backward, throwing the moldy, worm-filled fruit into the darkness.
Whistling wind. He won’t be eating anything here.
He’ll have to stop using his plant magic.
With a sigh, he turns. This isn’t working, anyway. She’s not this way. He can sense it in his chest in ways he can’t explain. There’s no how or why to it. He just feels it.
He’s going the wrong way.
At least his flower patches mark the path back, though they’re hard to see even with his light. Most of the flowers have wilted in the moments since he created them.
When Arisanna’s heart suddenly speeds up, he stills. Fears about her safety and well-being grip him, and he sprints toward the original daisy patch he grew.
