Page 241 of The Dryad Storm

I glance around at the transformed Mages and Alfsigr, my gaze zeroing in on my Mage Dryad’kin, realizing, in a flash of emotion, that my prophesied role as the Black Witch was true all along. Yes, part of my task was to help take down Vogel and his Shadow. But I can sense the call to lead my people out of the horror we all became.

Alfsigr voices rise, calling out to Wynter in their language, “Ealaiontora” echoing again and again as they emphatically make a sign on their chests that has the feel of an Alfsigr religious symbol.

Wynter fans out her wings, Ariel staunchly beside her, and looks lovingly toward her people. She raises her hand and flicks out a finger, and a suspended silver amplification rune blinks into existence before her.

“I speak as your Ealaiontora,” she calls out, her voice like a bell, reverberating over the Shadowed wasteland. “The Shining Ones are calling us onto the path of united Dryad’khin. It is time to cast off the Zalyn’or’s lies of division and take our place as what we must all become—Guardians of Erthia’s Balance and Guardians ofallErthia’s children.”

And then Wynter turns, lifts the Verdyllion, and blasts out a line of runic portals, all of them a glowing prism-edged green.

III green.

Wynter hands the Verdyllion back to me, a slight, emotional smile on her lips.

I hesitate, then take hold of the ever-living Wand once more. Its spiraling form feels so right as my fingers wrap around it. Like a circle finally closing. I straighten and look out at all the Mages. And all the Alfsigr. Ateveryone.

Stepping forward, I feel myself rising, finally, as the true Black Witch. But not as some central figure in this story. Because it’s clear this fight requires not just me, but every one of us to rise as restorers of the Balance.

So, instead, I rise as a messenger and catalyst amongst many, many messengers and catalysts, each of us ready to lose everything so that others won’t have to.

So that the children of Erthia won’t have to.

“Dryad’khin,” I say, looking to all my Tree’khin as I gesture with the Verdyllion toward the line of portals. “We need to go to the East as one unified Tree’khin.” I glance at the Shadow-destroyed sky and land, pain lancing through my heart. “And work to save our worldtogether.”

Chapter Seven

Dryad’khin

Elloren Guryev

Noilaan

Yvan and I hold tight to each other. His fire sparks tempestuously against mine through our bond as we approach the portal’s exit into the East, unsure of what level of chaos we might find there.

We emerge from one of the Verdyllion’s line of portals along with Soleiya and our other family members and allies.

Including the new Dryad’khin soldiers of Gardneria and Alfsigroth.

We pour out onto a hugely expansive, elevated ledge near the base of the half-decimated Vo Mountain Range, just west of Voloi. I glance around, morbid unease shuddering through everyone’s power as we collectively assess the situation we’re met with. The eastern bank of the Vo River is spread out before us, Erthia’s violent, unmoored weather tentatively held back by the dome Tierney and her allies cast over the Vo and its bracketing land, a dome that they’ve managed to enlarge, its translucent western side only a few paces behind us, their magic purpling the Vo’s waters.

“They did it,” Vothe marvels from where he stands in human form by Trystan, Wrenfir and his great-aunt Sithendrile bracketing them. Vothe’s nostrils flare as he tilts his head. “I sense Tierney, Or’myr, and Viger’s power... and Fyordin Lir’s power coming in from the far south... they managed to hold the Vo and its surrounding land.”

I nod then wince, a twinge of pain streaking through my injured ear. The throb along my torn ear’s apex is greatly reduced after Yvan’s healing ministrations, but there’s no time for further healing, the trees surrounding us almost completely grayed, the air chill and dank.

The Verdyllion is sheathed at my side, thrumming with the amplified energy from the rapid increase in Forest-linked Dryad’khin. The Shadow Wand is wrapped in several layers of buffering cloth and secured in Wynter’s tunic pocket.

But I’m tense, every nerve on high alert. Because the Shadow Wand’s subtle frisson of slithering energy is completely gone.

As if it’shidingitself from us.

Wynter frowns down at her pocket, her eyes tinged with worry. “The Shadow Wand...” she says from beside Ariel “...its power is strangely silent. It feels like it’s sunk into some type of evil dormancy.”

“I sense it too,” I respond as Sylvan, Yulan, Oaklyyn, Raz’zor, and Alder and many others, including Valasca and Ni Vin, set about helping the severely weakened Dryad Fae who emerged from the Sublands. The Dryads stagger toward trees, seeking to bind rapidly to the Vo Forest, kindreds rushing in to link to them, the Verdyllion’s energy having barely sustained the Tree Fae when their Northern Forest was destroyed along with their kindreds.

I study the runic dome above us. Steel-hued knots of clouds churn violently just beyond it, dark, curving Shadow lightning crackling through the tempest.

“Vogel’s Shadow corruption has slithered into the East’s unmoored weather,” Vang Troi states, glaring at the storm along with Hizar’drile and Queen Freyja Zyrr.

I nod once more, ignoring my ear’s twinge. “The power holding up the Vo’s shielding... it’s wavering,” I warn, sensing the great effort it’s taking Tierney and Or’myr to flow so much power into their shield from the far north, while Fyordin Lir’s current of Asrai Fae power struggles to flow magic into it from the river’s far south.

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