Page 204 of The Dryad Storm

“Erthia has never been staring down the imminent destruction of the Natural World,” Alaric counters. “The paths of division have landed ushere. On the precipice of the Shadow overrunningeverything, the Natural World ready to collapse around us. Pool your faiths. Pool your cultures and their strengths. Keeping them separate and shutting each other out isnot working. You’ll have runic border walls for your final monuments.”

“The Shadow is at our doorstep,” Gareth agrees. “The Natural World is about to irrevocablyfall.”

The Dryads are silent beside us, as if waiting for us to come to our senses, urgency coursing through their magic, the acute awareness inescapable—they’re one of the only groups who consistently, throughout Erthia’s history, put the Natural World first. But then, I remember that the Dryads were also a group that drove the Mages away from the Forest when my people begged them for help in the face of cruelty and oppression, my people longing for both Forest linkage and refuge.

I realize we all shoulder some of the blame for what’s come to pass on Erthia. Some so much more than others, but it doesn’t change the fact that we have to forge a new path forward.

Together.

With the Forest.

“The Great Source Tree appears in every one of your faiths,” Alaric says, holding up his III-marked palm. “Along with stories of messenger birds made of starlight. And everyone has stories of the sacred Verdyllion Wand-Stylus. And the Shadow Wand-Stylus.Usethose common threads as your central rallying point. Then mine each other’s faiths and cultures forevery primordial weaponyou can use to bring theShadow down. It’sall there.” He levels a grim stare at us all. “Or remain separate and divided. Andfall.”

“The Errilor Ravens spoken about inThe Book of the Ancients,” I tell Alaric, an ache constricting my heart over Errilith and my other ravens’ noble sacrifice. “They came to me, and have drawn themselves into Nature to try and hold off a Reckoning.”

“My Saffron Eagles,” Alder puts forth, glancing toward the flock of orange birds perched all around us, “they’re known as the Goddess’s Fire Eagles in Issani myths, harbingers that the Shadow Times are at hand.”

“The V’yexwraith demon shows up in Alfsigr religious lore,” Rivyr’el adds. “I thought it was simply a mythical monster. But here we are, faced with it.”

“And Ironflowers,” I say, my mind whirling with everything I’ve read in the mythology and religious texts Professor Jules Kristian gave to me to read, as well as the religious myths I grew up hearing. “They’re used inThe Book of the Ancientsas a tool to fight the demonic.”

Jules nods thoughtfully. “Both Keltish and Mage religious myths include their use in fighting back primordial Shadow power.”

“Back in Verpacia,” I say, “Tierney Calix and I used the concentrated essence of Ironflowers to block Mage spells. Perhaps they can block much more than that.”

“I can manifest Ironflowers,” Yulan tells us. She snaps her fingers, and the flowers on her head morph to tresses of thick, glowing blue Ironflowers. “I can manifest them in large numbers.”

“I am a professor of theology at Noilaan’s Voshir University,” Fain Quillen’s partner, the Wyvern-shifter Sholindrile, says from where he stands beside Fain. “I have studied the many faiths and myths of Erthia. Read all the major holy books and mythological texts. The Shadow Wand-Stylus is a parasitical force inallof them and employs a branching Shadow net that consumes the elemental power of everything it binds to, eventually drawing itallinto its Void.”

“Vogel will link that Shadow net to every Mage fasting spell and Alfsigr Zalyn’or necklace,” Mavrik cuts in, warning blazing in both his and Gwynn’s eyes. “He almost took control of Gwynn and me through our former fastlines. He’s tethered to most Mage and Alfsigr soldiers and increasing numbers of civilians. He’ll soon control all of them.”

A dread-filled silence descends.

“Your twinned magic is a formidable weapon,” Alaric says, breaking the quiet,a calculating glint in his eyes. “There’s a possibility that if you get hold of both the Verdyllion and the Shadow Wand, as well as enough prismatic light power, you can use your twinned power to take over Vogel’s Shadow network. You might then be able to divert everyone’s fastings and Zalyn’or spell-linkages to join them to the Forest instead of the Shadow, so that the Mages and the Alfsigr can hear the Forest out, en masse, as we all have done.”

Alaric’s words are like the detonation of a runic explosive. Intense conversation rises, the path forward suddenly clear, the surrounding Forest’s palpable rise in energy emboldening our joint Dryad’khin aura of purpose and power.

“The Smaragdalfar religion speaks of what Alaric has conveyed,” Sholindrile says, lightning leaping through his eyes. “The ability of multihued light power to overtake Shadow.”

“Mavrik and I can track the Verdyllion,” Gwynn offers, “then connect every shred of our shared light power to it. I’ve seen visions of this path forward.”

Yvan’s eyes meet mine, our fire bond searing through us, and I know, as much as he mistrusts religion and all its lore, there’s a spark of agreement in his eyes that this bold plan to use the Verdyllion to linkeveryoneto the Forest may be the only hope for Erthia.

“It will be nearly impossible to bring Noilaan’s Vo Conclave to the Forest,” Ung Li puts forth, a scowl twisting the former Wyvernguard commander’s mouth. “My people have fallen into religious rigidity. They’re clinging to stories about the Great Ending Times when the Goddess Vo will swoop down on a broken world and set everything right.”

Both Jules and Sholindrile nod at this. “Most faiths teach the same thing,” Jules offers. “The Gardnerians have their Reaping Times.”

“The Amaz have the Goddess’s Time of Reckoning,” Alder grimly adds.

“Perhaps,” Sholindrile quietly puts forth, “these ‘end times’ stories are imperfect metaphors for this very time we’re living in.”

Wrenfir spits out a sound of disgust and glares at Sholindrile, my uncle’s power burning white-hot. “So, we’re supposed to sit around and wait to be saved by some god or goddess,” he snaps, “while the entirety of Erthia falls apart and the Death Fae are pulled straight into the Reckoning they’ve risked their lives tostave off?”

“No,” Sholindrile calmly counters. “I believe these stories are misread. I think they are about an inevitable worldwide crisis that will force us all to choose between radical unity or radical fracture. And that time is upon us.”

Wrenfir bares his teeth at Sholin in a mocking smile. “If you’re going to find weapons against the Shadow in your faiths, do itquickly. The Death Fae saw what was coming better than anything in your religious texts did. They are holding off nature’svengeance.” A look of pain slashes through my uncle’s spider-marked features. “Hazel warned me, again and again—we’rerunning out of time.”

“What of the Great Prophecy?” one of our new Zhilon’ile Dryad’khin calls out, murmurs of agreement rising around him.

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