Page 196 of The Dryad Storm

“Your green hue has returned,” he tells me, looking both relieved and a bit feral, his eyes burning.

Dazed, I glance down, grateful to find my skin’s deep-green coloration and shimmer restored, the dark purple branching pattern strengthened, the Zhilaan Forest’s energy running hot through me.

Yvan and I both rise and find Sylvan and my other Dryad’kin down on their knees pressing III-marked palms to the Nightwood Pines’ black trunks, Raz’zor at Oaklyyn’s side, Mavrik and Gwynn hanging on to each other as they make contact with the huge tree before them. Alder and Soleiya help Thierren stay upright as he lurches for one of the trees, his falcon lighting on his shoulder, Sholin aiding Fain, their dove and tailorbird kindreds flitting around them. I draw in a hard breath, my empathy filling with the heady sensation of this martial Forest flooding my Dryad’kins’ rootlines with elemental power, their green hues rapidly returning, the Zhilaan’s purple branching pattern overlaying it.

A flock of black Noi Fire Hawks fly out of the trees and light on the shoulders of every Dryad’khin in need of a kindred, the rest of the hawks perching on branches around us, as if waiting for their new kin.

Yulan is on her knees before one of the trees, palms to midnight bark, herinjured heron beside her, and emotion tightens my throat as black clematis vines sprout to life all over her head, rapidly forming viney tresses dotted with deep-purple blooms, her Tricolor Heron’s feathers shedding the gray and morphing back to their beautiful lavender, white, and blue hues as the bird fully revives. Trumpet vines flow out from the Zhilaan’s tree line and twine embracingly around Yulan, lavender flowers opening as she begins to weep.

My brother Trystan has his palms pressed to the huge tree beside me, his green hue restored and marked now with the same dark violet branching pattern, his breathing labored, Vothe, Sithendrile, and Rafe holding on to him.

“I’ve lived in Zhilaan most of my life,” Vothe tells us as he peers up at the trees’ cloud-high apexes, “and I’ve never stepped foot inside this Forest.”

“Why not?” Trystan asks as his breathing steadies.

“It doesn’t permit intruders,” Vothe answers.

“It’s a lethal Forest,” Vothe’s father, Hizar’drile, interjects, a warning light in his eyes. Wyvernguard commander Ung Li and Vothe’s brother, Gethindrile, bracket him, all of them standing a few paces back from the tree line, all of them eyeing it warily. “It doesn’t allow anyone to enter except Dryad Fae,” Hizar’drile continues. “If I attempt to step over its threshold, it will slay me.”

To illustrate his point, Hizar’drile carefully steps toward the tree line and pushes his hand between two of its trunks. He yanks his hand back just as a wall of purple branches spears downward in a lethal blur, knifing into the soil with a muffledthud. Most of us flinch, my heart jumping into a faster rhythm as Hizar’drile takes a step back and the branches pull from the soil and slowly draw back into their original position.

Yvan and I exchange a look of surprise, as I’m hit by a wave of the blue Urisk geomancy coursing through Zhilaan’s dome-shield, the aura of geopower sweeping out from the Forest.

A rustling sounds, and two silver-haired Zhilaan Mountain Goats with crystalline horns step out of the trees at the same time that a familiar figure leaps into view on one of the branches overhead.

My heart leaps clear into my throat as Valasca Xanthrir meets my gaze, her sky blue skin surrounded by the same blue aura mist as Zhilaan’s dome-shield. She’s clothed in armor fashioned from thin plates of cobalt stone, countless runic blades made from blue gems sheathed all over her along with the powerful Ash’rion blade, a crystalline-blue stylus gripped in her hand.

A grin overtakes her face as she drops to the ground before us.

“Valasca!”Ni Vin cries as she staggers forward, her legs almost giving way beneath her as she bursts into tears.

The grin vanishes from Valasca’s face, swiftly replaced by a look of pure ardor. She surges toward Ni Vin and sweeps her up into her arms. “My love,” Valasca passionately murmurs in Noi as Ni Vin sobs and Valasca hugs her tight. “My beautiful, forever love,” she continues, voice hitching. And then Valasca draws Ni Vin into a loving kiss that floods my vision with tears, Yvan’s hand wrapping around mine as we surge toward her.

Valasca murmurs something to Ni Vin, kissing her once more before they draw back from each other, a number of us, including Alder, Freyja, and Kam Vin, converging around them.

“My queen,” Valasca says, lowering herself to one knee before Freyja, head bowed.

Freyja draws in a deep breath before motioning Valasca up. “Rise, Warrior of the Goddess,” she charges.

Valasca obeys, the two of them making the complicated goddess symbol on their chests, eyes locked. Valasca turns to me, her eyes sheening with emotion as we pull each other into a close embrace. “You’re looking pointy around the ears, Elloren,” she jests through her tears as we draw back from each other, a more heartfelt look overtaking her angular, blue face.

“I’m so glad to see you,” I say as more of her crystal-horned goat kindreds filter out of the Forest and flock affectionately around her.

Valasca glances around at our allies, her brow knotting as her gaze lights on Thierren. “Where’s Sparrow?” she presses.

A pained look tightens Thierren’s severe features. “She’s caught in Vogel’s Shadow.”

Valasca’s dark eyes widen before her expression hardens. “Well, we’ll simply have to find a way to free her.” Thierren nods, stiffly, before Valasca looks to me. “The Great Tree, III,” she tells me, “it drew me through its rootline network all the way to this Forest.” She raises the stylus in her hand, a martial light in her eyes. “III freed up my geomancy. Then tasked me with the strengthening of Zhilaan’s shielding.”

It all falls into place, Valasca’s combined Noi and Urisk heritage giving her the ability to use both runic systems to fortify Zhilaan’s dome-shield with the Forest’s own might.

A look of sorrow tightens Valasca’s features. “I know what happened to Lukas, Elloren. The trees... they showed meeverything. I’m sorry. I’mso sorry. Lukas made this moment possible for us all.”

I struggle against the ache suddenly gripping at my heart, because even though so many of us are here, finally allied, Lukas is gone. And these allies and loved ones that remain... we all might be lost to this fight.

Valasca raises her III-marked hand and looks toward the non-Dryad’khin amongst us. “You need to bind to the Forestnow,” she charges. “The Zhilaan will permit you to make contact with the trunks facing us. This Forest is ready to amplify and merge your elemental power, but only if you become its Dryad’khin. The Zhilaan showed me its history here. The Dryads who once lived here, they were decimated during the ancient Elfin Wars, and the Zhilaan turned against all non-Tree’kin as a result.”

“I can read what transpired,” Alder affirms, one of her palms pressed to the huge trunk before her. “The Alfsigr Elves not only killed this Forest’s kindred Dryads, they clear-cut a huge section of the Forest’s territory and came close to triggering an Unbalancing.”

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