“Do you have it?” Lavendera calls as she runs the final distance to us.
We all come to a halt, forming a semi-circle before her. The rest of the fae from our city edge closer behind us, no doubt curious about what’s happening.
“Yes, we do,” I reply, giving her a smile.
Relief crashes over her features. It’s so heartbreaking to see that I have to force myself not to show it on my face.
A little to my left, Orion pinches the fabric of his fancy shirt and pulls it outwards slightly, opening the pocket. That intensely glowing orb of light pulses inside it.
“Come on now,” he says to it. “Out you go.”
It burrows deeply into his pocket, pulsing several times as if cuddling him, and then finally flows out in a smooth motion.
“I have never been snuggled by a piece of divinity before,” Orion remarks. Then a sly smile curves his lips and his eye glintsas he slides his gaze to Isera. “Though I suppose you come pretty close to that.”
Heat flushes her cheeks, and she snaps her gaze away from him. I suppress a chuckle. But Orion watches her with a serious expression that I suddenly can’t read.
Lavendera gasps as the tiny ball of light returns to its original size. The intensity of its light fades slightly as it no longer needs to compress its energy into a smaller vessel, but the deep golden glow is still enough to paint gilded highlights across the grass as it floats towards Lavendera.
The Dryad Queen follows it. Ancient words in a language I have never heard spill from her mouth as she gazes at the Soul of Trees. I don’t understand what the words mean, but they’re filled with so much primal power that it makes goosebumps spread across my skin.
“Uhm,” Lyra begins a little to my right. “Is anyone else seeing that?”
Tearing my gaze from the Dryad Queen, I look towards where she is pointing. Hundreds of small golden orbs are floating out of the thorn forest. They look exactly like the ones who guided us to the right place after the Dryad Queen saved us by opening the forest floor.
“Yes,” Alistair replies.
“Oh good. I was beginning to think it was the sleep deprivation.”
Awed silence spreads over the grass as we watch those glowing spheres flow towards us until they surround Lavendera and the Dryad Queen like a halo of gold. They pulse faintly as they bob there in the air.
The Dryad Queen walks up so that she is standing to Lavendera’s left, with the Soul of Trees glowing in front of them.
“Are you ready?” the ancient dryad asks in the gentlest voice I have ever heard.
Lavendera draws in a shuddering breath, tears of relief in her eyes. “Yes.”
My heart patters as I watch her slowly raise one hand.
Then she places her palm on the large glowing orb.
A surge pulses out from the two of them.
It’s so forceful that all of us stagger back from the shockwave. Blinking, I try to straighten and clear my vision at the same time. My jaw drops when the view before me becomes visible again.
Opposite Lavendera, on the other side of the Soul of Trees, now stands a majestic dryad. The Mother Dryad. She is an entire head taller than the Dryad Queen, and her flowing dress, made of vines and branches, burrows into the soft grass. Her pale green skin is weathered like rough bark, and her brown eyes are so deep that I feel like I’m looking in through a hole in the universe itself.
Lavendera drags in an unsteady breath and presses a hand to her head. Another sob of profound relief rips from her throat. “It’s so… quiet.”
The Mother Dryad smiles. Golden light falls across her face as the Soul of Trees floats up to hover above her shoulder instead.
“You have been so brave, my friend,” the Mother Dryad says.
Shivers roll down my spine at the sound of her voice. There is something so raw, so primal and powerful, about her voice that I suddenly feel as if I am listening to a goddess speak. And all I can do is to just stand there, rooted in place, and stare at the awe-inspiring being before me.
Another sob escapes Lavendera’s throat, and her bottom lip trembles as she looks back at the Mother Dryad.
Then a collective gasp echoes across the landscape.
