"Is it that stern Northern healer again?"he asked, his voice surprisingly rich for someone whose frame appeared so frail."I told her I'd sort the fever remedies by tomorrow's dawn.The moonberry seeds must be separated first—they lose potency when mixed."
"No, Father.This is Thalia Greenspire.She's..."Amara hesitated, glancing at Thalia."She wants to talk to you about earth-speak."
At this, Tamsin's hands stilled.He raised his head slowly, squinting in Thalia's direction with cloudy eyes that struggled to focus."Earth-speak, you say?An unusual topic for these troubled days."
Thalia stepped forward, extending her hand in greeting."It's an honor to meet you, sir.I've only recently learned the name for what I've been doing all my life."
Tamsin tilted his head, continuing to squint at her extended hand as though it were a mirage he couldn't quite trust.Amara moved to his side, gently taking his right hand and guiding it toward Thalia's.
"His eyes aren't what they once were," she explained quietly."But his other senses more than compensate."
Thalia nodded, waiting as Amara placed her father's hand into her own.The moment their palms connected, a jolt of recognition passed between them—not physical, but something deeper, as though two instruments suddenly resonating at the same pitch.Tamsin's bushy eyebrows shot upward, his cloudy eyes widening with surprise.
"Well now," he breathed, his fingers curling around hers with unexpected strength."The gift runs strong in you, young one.Strong indeed."
The words sent a thrill of validation through Thalia's core.All her life, she had sensed currents that others couldn't perceive—energies flowing through metal and stone, through plants and earth.At Frostforge, that ability had found purpose in the forge, but it had never been named, never been fully understood—not even by her.
"Yes," she said, unable to keep the excitement from her voice."I've always had it.Since I was a child, I have been helping in my mother's herb shop.I could feel which combinations would work best together, which plants held the strongest properties."
Tamsin nodded, his thumb moving across her palm in a way that seemed deliberate rather than casual."And it has grown stronger in recent years, has it not?More insistent in its call."
Thalia blinked in surprise."Yes.How did you know?"
A smile creased his weathered face, deepening the lines around his eyes."Because the gift does not lie dormant when used.Like a muscle exercised daily, it strengthens.Grows more pronounced."He released her hand reluctantly."You have been using it, then?Purposefully?"
"In the forge," Thalia confirmed, flexing her fingers as the lingering sensation of their connection faded."I'm a smith.The currents help me work with metals, especially when infusing them with magic.But it wasn't until recently that I understood what it truly was—root-singing."
"Root-singing," Tamsin repeated the term with a nod of recognition."Yes, that's what my grandmother called it.A more poetic name than earth-speak, I suppose.But less holistic, in my opinion."He gestured to a low wooden stool beside his workstation."Sit, child.My old neck aches from looking up at you."
Thalia complied, sinking onto the stool while Amara took up position behind her father, one hand resting protectively on his bony shoulder.The closeness of the small space made the conversation feel intimate, sacred somehow, as though they discussed secrets long buried.
"What do you know of root-singing?"Tamsin asked, his gnarled fingers resuming their work with the seeds, though his attention remained fixed on Thalia.
"Only fragments," she admitted."When I was in my coma, I had visions of the past—of root-singers working alongside cryomancers and storm-callers.They used their magic to create a seal against the Deep Ones."She leaned forward, the urgency of her situation pressing on her once more."But the knowledge is already fading from my mind, like dreams upon waking.I can feel it slipping away."
Tamsin nodded solemnly."That is the nature of such revelations.They are not given to be held, but to be used before they fade."His hands separated tiny black seeds from red ones with unerring accuracy despite his poor vision."What remains clear to you?"
Thalia closed her eyes, reaching for the fading images that had been so vivid just days before."I saw practitioners gathering in a circle, channeling energies from the earth itself.They called it the 'blood flowing beneath our feet.'They could see these currents—not just sense them, but actually manipulate them, redirect them like...like a weaver with threads."
"Yes," Tamsin confirmed, and Thalia heard the smile in his voice."That is the essence of root-singing.Not merely to hear the songs of the earth's currents, but to join the chorus.To add your own verse to the ancient melody."
"But how?"Thalia opened her eyes, frustration edging her words."I can sense the currents, but controlling them, redirecting them—that knowledge wasn't given to me."
Sadness settled over Tamsin's features, pulling his mouth downward at the corners."It wouldn't be.Such skills must be learned through practice, through guidance."He sighed, a sound weighted with centuries of loss."Root-singing was once as common in the South as storm-calling is in the archipelago, as cryomancy is in the North.Every village had its singers, who helped crops grow, who healed the sick, who strengthened the very foundations of their homes."
He paused, his fingers stilling once more as memory claimed him."But knowledge is fragile, child.When the Southern Kingdoms fractured, when the great wars tore across our lands centuries ago, much was lost.The collectives of root-singers—the teaching circles where knowledge was passed down—were scattered.Many died defending their villages.Others fled to remote places where their skills withered without community to nurture them."
Thalia absorbed his words, feeling their truth resonate with what she had witnessed in her visions.A culture destroyed, a tradition nearly erased from memory.The same pattern that had driven a wedge between the storm-callers and the mainland, between North and South.Division where there had once been unity.
"My grandmother was trained by one of the last collectives," Tamsin continued, his voice dropping to little more than a whisper."They taught in secret, passing knowledge to only a handful of students who showed the gift.When she died, I became the sole keeper of what little she had shared with me.In all my years, I have encountered perhaps a dozen others with the gift in their blood, but none who were trained.None who knew what they carried within them."
"There are others, though," Thalia said, thinking suddenly of Senna Drake, whose current-sensing abilities had been subtle but undeniable."A Northern woman at Frostforge has the gift as well, though I don't think she knows what it truly is."
Tamsin chuckled, a dry sound like autumn leaves rustling."The currents of blood flow farther than most realize.Many Northerners carry Southern heritage they would deny if told of it.The gift can lay dormant for generations, then suddenly appear in a child who has never set foot in Southern soil."
"My son shows signs of it," Amara interjected quietly."Niko.He's only nine, but he feels things in plants, in stones.Things others can't perceive."
Pride warmed Tamsin's clouded eyes."Yes, the boy has the gift.Strong, like yours."He nodded toward Thalia."But he is too young yet for formal training.The mind must mature enough to handle the currents without being swept away by them."
