It spreads its wings and ascends from my hand, joining its swarm to migrate together deeper in the forest.
“Woodsprites,” Willow answers as they begin to disappear into the trees.
“I didn’t know they still existed,” Leda muses. “They haven’t been seen on the mainland in centuries.”
I can’t tear my eyes away from them as their lights grow further and further away, awe lacing through my chest and thawing the coldness buried within it.
“Some believe them to be children of the moon,” Willow adds. “Coming down to our plane to bring blessings from Eurydice. At least that’s what the stories have spread to say.”
The lights finally disappear within the shroud of night and thick canopy of branches, and any warmth that filled me begins to seep out. All that’s left is a hollow ache once again.
Willow glances at the opening in the tree ahead, a soft glow pulsing from her, matching the golden sheen shimmering around the door. She made the tree open up, moving the bark in a way only a Woodland can.
“You’re Woodland, then?” I ask, though she doesn’t need to answer. The wall of earth that tore from the ground to separate me from Daimon was all hers.
Willow pushes the door open, revealing a smooth staircase that winds up the center of the tree. Each smooth slat has vines etched into it; the etchings are somehow filled with a golden light that illuminates every step with floral designs. The stairscurl around the middle, wound loose enough that once we step in, I can see all the way to the top.
A little boy, no older than six or seven, watches me, his auburn hair shaggy and hanging down as he leans over the edge of the top steps. His eyes are as wide as saucers, his cheeks tinted a soft pink.
“Daimon,” Willow chastises. “Wait for us at home.”
He groans, but his face disappears instantly.
“Daimon,” I echo softly.
The little boy’s name isDaimon.
These Riders…they know Brielle, and Brielle certainly spoke to Daimon as if she knewhim. They’re all intertwined. It could be a coincidence, though I’m starting to learn that things have a way of connecting in this realm. Be it destiny or Eurydice herself pushing me toward others, there’s always something more.
How else would Graylen, Addie, and Avery all end up at the castle with me in Crea? In the grand scheme of forever, they could’ve been searching a lot longer for me. But instead, we gravitated toward each other—Avery as my maid, Addie as my friend, and Graylen as my…Graylen.
Pain shoots through my chest. I try to shake it off, the weight of how manycoincidencesthere are receding with the mere thought of Graylen. Immediately, my mind ventures to where he is and what’s happening to him.
A stiff hand rests on my shoulder, gently pulling me above the surface, keeping me from drowning in the mire my mind had begun to retreat into.
“We’ll find him.” Leda’s voice is firm, as if there is no other alternative. “But we can’t do it alone.”
She’s right. I know she is. We don’t even knowhowto get to him, let alone confront Vidaris…or Daimon, for that matter.
Willow is already a handful of stairs up, trailed by Calix and Sidra. Aster clears his throat from outside, where Adrian and the Lyles still stand. Leda pats my shoulder and starts up the steps, leaving me to either stand here with the ghosts from my past orfollow her. My feet move the second the thought enters my mind.
The higher we walk, the more I catch glimpses of this village placed high into the trees. It isn’t just the trunk that’s hollowed out, but the limbs too. They’re big enough to resemble small tunnels, with the same golden vines etched along worn walkways, lighting the paths enough to see that this tree connects to another. I only see it in a flash as we continue walking upward, but I think I glimpse cubbies carved into the sides, each big enough for a small family to lounge in—or to hide in.
But that thought only makes me wonder: what would they have to hide from?
By the time we reach the top, my vision swims from the circling stairs. The scent of cedar and citrus fills my nose the moment I step out onto a wide ledge with everyone else. Even with the moon hidden behind the thick coverage of leaves above us, there’s plenty of light to see by.
From the ground, the soft glow from the etchings in every step, every walkway, was too dim to see by. Only the hanging lanterns and glowing insects show what’s built into these trees, but from here…
The sight steals my breath away. It’s a sight that could distract me from what’s happened over the last few days. Almost.
It’s a wonder these cottages are supported this high up, but it’s clear Woodland had a hand in building this. Seeing these homes with wood intertwined into the bark of the trees, small rocking chairs outside of doors on narrow porches, and leaves scattered on windowpanes, it causes a rush of tears to well in my eyes.
They remind me of Ellerry. Of her goofy smile and inquisitive gaze. It makes me think of her cracked teacups hanging haphazardly from the ceiling and bright pink couch strewn with clothes.
She would love this place.
“I’m sure you all need rest,” Willow says evenly, her own eyesheavy. “I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping until we can arrange something more comfortable.”
