Callie and Bethany were starting something solid. Something deliberate and careful, full of laughter and lingering glances and choosing each other over and over again.
And me?
I’d fumbled whatever had just happened with Faelan so completely that I wouldn’t get another chance to do it right.
Why hadn’t I just let that damn phone ring?
I was staring into my bad wine and marinating in my lousy decision when Randy startled us all with something that couldonly be classified as an invocation. “We call upon the Green Man to grace us with his presence and his wisdom.” The robed “elder” stood by the bonfire like the Statue of Liberty, but instead of a torch in his raised hand, he held a bundle of herbs, or maybe ragweed.
Callie sighed, already exasperated. “Oh, for the love of—he’s really not letting this go.”
Bethany smirked. “I admire the commitment.”
“What’s a Green Man?” I asked, hoping that aliens weren’t on the agenda now.
Bethany leaned in, resting her elbows on the table. “The Green Man is an ancient nature spirit. He’s a symbol of growth, renewal, the cycle of life. All across Europe, you see his face carved into stone in old churches, hidden in architecture. It’s a reminder that nature is always there, even when we try to build over it.”
“Like a pagan god?”
“Not exactly a god. More like…a guardian. A spirit of the land. The connection between us and everything that grows.”
I knocked the words around in my mind as I stared out at the trees. The wind shifted, rustling the leaves, and some buried part of me reached toward the forest, listening.
Randy, undeterred by the absolute lack of interest from anyone, lifted his arms even higher. “Green Man! Hear us! Answer us!”
The trees did not reply.
Bethany sighed and shook her head. “He’s gonna strain something.”
Callie laughed into her wine, but I’d stopped listening. I was busy thinking about the way the earth itself seemed to breathe tonight—the way the leaves rustled high above us, whispering secrets I wasn’t meant to understand.
And then I saw him.
Faelan stood at the edge of the gathering, just outside the firelight, watching.
Something about him made the night feel sharper. The campfire shadows stretched long behind him as the fire caught in his eyes in a way that made my breath snag. He looked almost amused.
I barely had time to process that before Randy’s voice rang out, as loud and confident as ever.
“Green Man! I invoke you!”
A few people at the tables chuckled into their wine. Others ignored him completely.
Faelan, though? He was actually enjoying the spectacle.
“Faelan!” Randy turned abruptly, face lighting up. “Where’ve you been? Come, join us.” Randy eagerly waved him into the clearing. “We’re summoning the Green Man tonight. Properly, this time. I’ve refined the ritual—no more half-hearted drumming. We’re doing this with intention.”
Faelan blinked slowly, like he was weighing his response. “Intention is a powerful thing,” he mused.
Randy took that as encouragement. “Exactly! The others don’t take it seriously, but I can tellyouget it—nature, the old ways, the need to connect with something bigger than ourselves.”
Faelan’s expression didn’t change. “And what do you expect to happen?”
Randy held up a badly hand-carved wooden symbol, some attempt at an ancient sigil. “If the Green Man is listening, he’ll make his presence known.”
Something flickered behind Faelan’s eyes. “You believe that?”
“Of course.”
