Page 193 of The Dryad Storm

“Nowhere is safe!”Oaklyyn cries as she desperately pulls on Raz’zor’s fire.

“We’ve got to get out of here!” Ariel hisses from where she’s crouched by Yulan’s heron, more fear in her expression than I’ve ever witnessed. “We can’t let Vogel advanceany farther! He’ll gain enough power to blast through the Sublands and come forWynter!”

“Valasca is there, as well!” Ni Vin lashes out at everyone, the level of emotion in the young sorceress’s voice a hard blow to my gut as Freyja paces nearby, Freyja’s concern for her people writ deep in her hazel tattooed features, an agonized sorrow in her eyes, her kindred bear likely destroyed, like so many other kindreds...

“My people have talented sorceresses amongst them,” Freyja tells us, voice rough.“They’ll likely be able to shield my Amaz’kin and their allies from the storm, but we all know that Shadow terror is about to strike the East because the Realm has left itselfwide opento attack.”

My attention pivots to my tenuous link to the Zhilaan, a slim line of its power simmering battle-fire hot through my unmoored lines.

The idea hits, like a bolt of light.

“We need to connect everyone to the Zhilaan Forest,” I say to Yvan in a rush of resolve, desperate for a way forward. “The Zhilaan wants to make a stand against this, I canfeelit.”

Sylvan spits out a devastated sound, his limp body braced against both Iris and the cavern’s wall as he sets his gaze on me. “You don’t understand.” He swipes his free hand out at all of us, tears sheening his eyes. “None of you do. You don’t get an infinite number of chances to destroy the Natural World and rebound from it. It’sover.”

His words are a harsher assault than the pummeling storms outside as he slashes his hand toward the cavern’s storming mouth. “What you see there?” he levels. “That’s thebeginningofthe end.”

A deeper alarm ignites as I turn to Wrenfir. “Were Hazel and my ravens pulled into a Reckoning?” I shakily ask, able to feel the trace of Darkness still connecting me to them.

“They’re trying to hold off the Reckoning,” Wrenfir chokes out. “They’ve sacrificed themselves for our cruel stupidity and dissolved themselves into Nature.” He says this with devastating finality, his power a heart-shattering mess. He’s slumped on the cavern’s floor, his fists knotted in his dark hair. He lifts his spider-marked gaze, his cheeks streaked with tears, his eyes pierced through with violent grief. “Hazel didn’t want to leave me,” he gruffly forces out. “I could sense his emotions through our mating bond. But he had no choice. He pulled himself into Nature’s Death energy to try and keep it from sliding into a Reckoning. But he won’t be able to hold off the release of that Reckoning forever.”

An ominous quiet descends, save for the violent winds battering the mountaintop around us, grief swelling in my heart for both Hazel and Wrenfir and for my Errilor Ravens, kindreds I barely had a chance to get to know and love.

And Tierney’s Death Fae and the other Deathkin who were here in Noilaan—did they dissolve themselves into the Natural World as well to hold off the Reckoning as I sensed? And what of the refugees trapped past the border wall? Will any of them survive the raging storms?

Aislinn lets out a shivering breath, tears pooling in her eyes, Jarod’s arm wrapped tight around her shoulder. “I never imagined it would all end like this,” she rasps.

“It’s not the end yet,” I snarl back, rebellion rising as I battle back the despair attempting to tear a hole through my heart. “There arestill trees,” I insist. “It’s not over while there isstill living Forest.”

Sylvan huffs out a harsh sound. “It’s not enough, Elloren,” he says. “A few scattered Forests are not enough to hold a shattered Matrix together.”

“Maybe not,” Yvan harshly returns, “but the Zhilaan Forest wants to keep fighting. I can feel it though our kindred bond. And I plan on fighting to the end, as well.”

“How?”Sylvan demands. His stark challenge sizzles in the air, and we’re all powerless against it, the nightmare bearing down.

“We go forward on faith,” Gwynn shakily suggests, her green hue also faded to a sickly gray, but a trace of prismatic light still burning at the edges of her golden eyes. “It’s all we have left.”

“Faith inwhat?” Wrenfir bites back.

Gwynn levels her golden stare on him. “In the Verdyllion,” she insists. “It’s still out there. And, maybe... in the power that’s at the center of all of Erthia’s faiths. We’ve seen the Watchers inside the trees...”

“You honestly thinkreligioncan save us?” Wrenfir furiously spits out.

Gwynn shakes her head, her jaw set in a defiant line. “I don’t know. But, maybe all the faiths taken together... maybe they could point a way forward. For however long we have left in this fight.”

“Wehaveto keep fighting with everything in us,” Andras snarls, urgency in his gaze. “I don’t have the luxury of giving up! I have achild!”

“As do I!” Alcippe growls, a large amethyst gripped in her fist.

Andras’s and Alcippe’s outbursts strike deep, a remembrance of Valasca’s words like a bell rung straight through my heart—

You will lose every last thing that’s important to you.

But you’ll lose those things so that others won’t have to.

I realize in one, great swoop that Andras and Valasca are right. We have to keep fighting for a future for all the surviving children, everywhere. And for every last surviving tree.

“Gwynn might be on to something,” I say on impulse, grasping for a path forward. “There might be something in all the faiths that can show us how to fightback. They all have the Watchers. And the Verdyllion, in one form or another—”

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