“It might be possible,” Ouda said finally.
“How?” Kaelan asked.
“She is like a tree splintered by lightning. One half is gone. She can never again bring it to life. But the other part of her remains rooted, alive. It is possible for her to continue to grow... new branches, new leaves. It will not be a resurrection of what she was, but in time, she might regain a sense of wholeness once more.”
“In time,” Kaelan repeated in a dull voice.
“She can . . . regrow her soul?” Magda asked.
“The soul is like all living things,” Ouda said. “It flourishes with patience, attention, love. For now she must be guarded, for the wound within her soul remains open and leaves her vulnerable.”
“So she’ll never be who she was,” Kaelan said.
“No.”
Magda knelt next to the water to put more distance between her and Kaelan, whose emotions leaked like a bad pipe.
“Thank you, Ouda. Are you certain there’s nothing we can do for you?”
“Yes, Magdalena, Rae of the Eastern Cliffs, there is something you can do for me.”
“What?”
“Protect my forest. Protect the small folk that are my children. I am fading. The fols are not strong enough to keep me here indefinitely. But you are strong,Ljósálfr.”
Magda bowed her head. “I don’t know—”
“One thing more,” Ouda said. “The brownie does not travel to the Spire.”
Her head shot up. “Kirk?”
“He and the owl fly to the Elf King’s territory, to the Petra Islands. On the largest of them is a hidden entrance to the hall of the dwarf lord, Froenz.”
“Wh—why?”
“I cannot speak to their reasons, only to what was overheard by the wind and whispered back to me.”
Magda dropped her elbow to her knee and her face into her hand. “Damion’s going to love this.” She lowered her hand and gazed down through the calm clear water to the glowing creature drowned in its depths. “I’m sorry we were too late to help you.”
“You were not late,Ljósálfr. You arrived right on time.”
The fols’ rippling slowed and then stopped, their glow diminishing, though not going out completely.
Kaelan cocked his head. “What isLjósálfr?”
“ICAN’T,”he said, his brow furrowed.
“What do you mean you can’t? Are you too tired?”
He released her hand. “No. It’s not that. It’s something about this place. I can’t travel out of here.”
She stared at him for a second and then up at the distant glow of daylight. “Shit.”
“Can you climb it?” he asked.
The sides were little more than spider roots and soft earth. When she tried to grasp it, clumps came off in her hand.
“With your knives?” he suggested.
