Eliam's fingers curled, pulling at invisible threads. Veins stood out on his neck from the strain. A muscle in his jaw twitched, jumped, twitched again.
Nothing happened.
His hand trembled. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cold. He pulled harder, she could see it in the way his shoulders hunched, the way his other hand clenched into a fist so tight his knuckles went white.
The forest didn't answer.
"Oh no." Malus's laugh came out wet, breathless, but genuine delight lit his bloodied face. "Oh, this is perfect."
He straightened despite his injuries, autumn magic flowing back around him like a cloak. The decay that had seemed weak moments ago now pulsed with renewed strength.
"Did you really think," Malus said, taking a step forward, and now it was Eliam who stepped back, "that the forest would choose you? You, who abandoned it? Who left it kingless while you played at being the hero for a human?"
The trees around the clearing creaked, leaning toward Malus. Roots surfaced from the earth, reaching for him not as threats but as subjects greeting their king.
"The forest remembers who ruled it first," Malus continued, autumn wind picking up around him, lifting his bloodied coat like wings. "Who ruled it longest. Who never abandoned it for some misguided attempt at love."
Eliam tried again, both hands raised now, pulling so hard at the forest's magic that his whole body shook with effort.
Nothing. Worse than nothing. The forest actively resisted, pulling away from his call.
"This is delicious," Malus said, and with a gesture, the ground beneath Eliam's feet turned to rot. Eliam stumbled, his leg sinking into suddenly soft earth that reeked of decay. "The great Forest King, whole at last, rejected by his own domain."
"You see, brother?" Malus advanced now, autumn decay gathering strength with each step. The forest fed him power freely, eagerly, answering his call without hesitation. "You were always just a placeholder. A temporary king sitting on a throne that was never truly yours."
Leaves swirled around Malus, sharp with decay magic. They cut through the air toward Eliam, hitting him hard and sending him stumbling backward. More leaves followed, razor-sharp, cutting across his chest and arms. Blood bloomed through the tears in his clothing.
Briar watched through vision that kept blurring and clearing. Her body had gone numb in places, hot in others. She could taste copper constantly now, blood running from her nose down the back of her throat. The star metal pendant still hung cold and heavy, but something else stirred beneath it. That hollow space where the warmth had been, where Arion’s essence had flowed through her on its way home.
She should have been dying, probably was dying. Her heart beat irregularly, sometimes racing, sometimes nearly stopping. Her breathing came in shallow gasps that never quite satisfied her lungs' demands. But her mind remained viciously, painfully aware.
Aware enough to feel something she shouldn't be able to feel.
The forest.
Not as words or thoughts, but as a presence, an awareness vast and ancient and patient. It pressed against her consciousness from all sides, neither welcoming nor hostile. Simply observing.
Briar didn't understand how she could feel it. Maybe the magic that had poured through her had opened something, or perhaps being this close to death meant existing partially in whatever space the forest's consciousness occupied.
It could have been that channeling Arion's essence back to Eliam had left her marked by forces far beyond human comprehension. It didn't matter why. What mattered was that she could feel the forest considering its options and deciding.
And it was choosing wrong.
Eliam crashed to the ground as Malus's magic caught him full force. Autumn decay spread across his skin where it made contact, aging flesh to leather, turning youth to advanced age in seconds. He gasped, trying to roll away, but roots erupted from beneath him and pinned him down.
"The forest knows who protected it," Malus said, standing over his brother. "Who fed it properly. Who understood that power requires sacrifice."
No.
The word formed in Briar's mind with perfect clarity. She remembered Eliam in his throne room, handling disputes between fae, remembered him punishing lords for crimes against the forest itself, for taking too much, for damaging the ancient places that could never be replaced.
She pushed those memories outward into the vast awareness surrounding her. Not with words, but with feeling, with the bone-deep certainty that Eliam had always served the forest first.
The forest listened.
She could feel its attention shift, focusing on her with intensity that made her remaining awareness fracture further. It examined the memories she offered, turning them over with the thoroughness of a being that measured time in centuries rather than seconds.
Malus had been strong. Had been brutal and efficient. Had ruled with an iron fist that demanded loyalty and fed on power without restraint.
