“Sam, hold on—” Callie started, but I was already reading.
The words felt strange on my tongue, ancient and new all at once. I couldn’t have told you what language I was speaking—it most definitely wasn’t English—but the meaning was clear to me as I spoke. I was acknowledging the power of the forest, the cycle of seasons, the balance of giving and taking.
The air in the hunting blind changed as I read, growing thicker, charged with a primal energy. The vines along the walls pulsed with each word, stretching toward me like they could hear. Faelan’s breathing steadied slightly as his chest rose and fell in rhythm with my voice.
I was reaching him.
I continued to read, letting the strange syllables flow through me, until I reached the final passage—the part about the sacrifice. I faltered for just a moment, my eyes darting to Faelan’s still form, to the scattering of petals surrounding his head like a halo.
And I knew what I had to do.
“That which is valued by the summoner shall be given freely to the land,” I read aloud in English, then looked up at my friends. “I’m the summoner now. It has to be something of mine.”
Callie’s eyes widened with understanding. “Sam, be careful. You don’t know what you’re doing.”
But I did. For the first time since I’d arrived in these woods, I felt like I knew exactly what I was doing.
I set the book down carefully and moved to kneel beside Faelan. The vines around him parted as I approached, making space for me as if they recognized my intent.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone—the thing that had kept me tethered to a world of concrete and deadlines, the symbol of everything I thought mattered. And yet, it felt cold and lifeless in my palm. A poor offering for what I was asking in return.
“It’s not enough.” I tossed it aside.
Without hesitation, I straddled Faelan’s still form. The vines shifted beneath me, accommodating my weight. His chest barely rose anymore, the rhythm of his breath growing fainter by the second.
“I need a knife,” I said, my voice steady despite the fear coursing through me.
Callie stepped back, alarmed. “A knife? What the hell, Sam?”
“I need to make a sacrifice.” I held out my hand.
“We don’t just carry knives around,” Bethany protested, her eyes wide. “Sam, you can’t be serious!”
“Look at him!” I shouted, gesturing at Faelan’s still form. “He’s dying. The forest is consuming him. I have to do this.”
I scanned the hunting blind desperately, looking for anything that could break skin. “Give me something—anything! A piece of glass, a sharp stick, I don’t care—”
My frantic words were cut short when Faelan’s hand suddenly shot up, his fingers closing around my wrist with surprising strength. His eyes remained closed, but his grip was firm, unyielding.
And then he spoke. “Not your blood.” His voice hardly even sounded like a voice anymore. More like a distant wind sighing through the trees.
I froze, staring down at him in shock. “Faelan?”
His grip tightened slightly. “Not your blood,” he repeated, each word an effort. “But what spills from your soul.”
I didn’t understand. Not until I felt a tear trembling on my eyelash. It hung there for a moment, swollen with frustration and grief, then broke free—and pattered on Faelan’s cheek.
As soon as it touched his skin, the tear began to glow, a tiny point of light against the green pallor of his flesh.
And suddenly, I understood.
The tears had let me read the book. That was my superpower. Not a kiss. Not my blood. Not even my stubbornness—but myemotions.
Another tear fell, and another, each one landing on Faelan’s skin and spreading outward in small ripples of brightness.The vines around him pulsed in response, and their withering momentarily halted.
Tears came freely now as I sobbed in relief. They fell onto Faelan’s face, his neck, the vines that caged his chest. Each droplet carried a tiny spark of connection, flowing through the greenery like capillaries of light.
I leaned closer, allowing the drops to wet his lips, terrified that somehow, even the entirety of my emotions would still not be enough. “Come back,” I whispered. “Come back to me.”
