Page 244 of The Dryad Storm

Aislinn’s sister, Auralie. Utterly transformed. I remember her beaten-down appearance when I met her at Verpax University on Founder’s Day. But now, her green eyes blaze with purpose, and she wears a Xishlon Moon Resistance band tied around her black sleeve, a gravely ill child who looks to be about six years old in her arms.

It’s Erin, I realize, my heart painfully clenching. Aislinn’s niece. So bubbly and full of life when I last saw her, excited about a new kitten and her marble collection. Now, there are Grippe sores all over Erin’s face, her black hair dirty and matted, her pale green face scarily gaunt as she struggles to breathe.

“Ancient One,” Aislinn cries, lurching toward them.“Erin...”

Erin takes one look at Aislinn and lets out a congested whimper, then recoils when her bloodshot eyes turn toward Jarod. “He turned you into awolf monster!” Erin cries.

Aislinn gives Jarod a devastated look, and he immediately takes a careful step back so as not to further spook the child.

“Don’t be afraid, sweet one,” Aislinn insists in a gentle, fractured tone as she turns back to the child. “I’m still Auntie Aislinn. And Jarod—” she motions to him “—he’s my mate. We want to help you.”

Erin only cries harder and shakes her head in emphatic refute, choking on tears that quickly devolve into hacking coughs.

Aislinn looks imploringly to Auralie, her tone turning desperate. “Where’s Liesbeth? And the rest of the children? Are they ill too?”

Auralie’s face hardens. “I had to practically throw them into the escape portals. The West has become a nightmare. The weather’s gone wild, skies so gray it’s like a stormy night all the time. The crops have all failed. There’s no food, Linnie. Or medicine. And Shadow monsters... they’reeverywhere. All manner of multi-eyed creatures. But Liesbeth is still terrified to behere. She’s convinced we’ve fallen into one of the Ancient One’s hells and will be massacred at any moment by the Evil Ones, you included. Our children—almost all of them are sick. Erin’s got the worst of it. Linnie, we need your help.”

“I’ll help these children,” Wrenfir offers, stepping forward. “I’m an apothecary. I have a few vials of the medicine they need in my laboratory in Voloi—”

“Get away from my child!”

We all turn as Aislinn’s sister Liesbeth pushes through the crowd, making for us like the Ancient One’s own avenger. Her transformation is as shocking as Auralie’s. Gone is Liesbeth’s perfectly put-together, zealous, Styvian poise. Her form is skeletal, her hue a pale, sickly green, fear stark in her eyes as she takes in Aislinn, Jarod, and Wrenfir, and then me and Yvan.

Liesbeth grabs desperate hold of Erin and moves to flee from us.

“Stop!”Wrenfir implores, and Liesbeth startles and turns, terror and rage in her eyes. Wrenfir takes a step toward her, his fire aura turning fiercely protective, great, glowing strands of it flowing out to encircle both Erin and the baby in Wyn Juun’s arms.“Please,”Wrenfir begs, my uncle’s usually caustic tone more impassioned than I’ve ever heard it. “I had this disease as a child,” he says, voice splintering. “Iknowwhat it’s like to struggle for breath. We arenotwhat you think we are. We are this child’slast chance. I’m an apothecary. A good one. Let mehelp her.”

A tortured expression overtakes Liesbeth’s face as her eyes lock with my uncle’s, conflict warring in them. And then, shockingly, she gives him a quick nod of assent before her eyes flutter closed and she collapses.

Yvan, Wrenfir, Aislinn, Soleiya, and Jarod all spring forward to catch both Liesbeth and a sobbing, coughing Erin. A semiconscious Liesbeth winds up in Jarod’s arms, Yvan’s hands pressed to her temples, and a terrified Erin in Wrenfir’s arms while Aislinn murmurs soothingly to the child.

Wrenfir glares at us all, his power striking to wildfire heights through his rootlines as he cradles Erin, looking as if he’d walk through hell’s own fury to save her. “I need to get to my lab in Voloi.Right now!”

Bootsteps sound, and we turn to find a contingent of Vu Trin marching toward us, swords drawn. Their eyes scan us before zeroing in on me, then Yvan, and then Soleiya with evident surprise before narrowing on Vang Troi.

“The Black Witch and her allies are wanted by the Vo Conclave,” the lead soldier firmly declares, the expression on her angular face severe as she glares at us all.

“Good,” Vang Troi shoots back, her aura pulsing with lethal sapphire light, both her hands around the hilts of her sheathed swords. “We need to speak with them.”

“And we’re taking these children and this ill woman with us,” Soleiya insists, her gaze spitting fire.

“I’m ready to blast right through your border wall to get them the help they need,” Yvan warns as he draws back from a tenuously stabilized Liesbeth and fans his wings combatively out. There’s a vehement glow in Yvan’s narrowed eyes, his internal fire ratcheting hotter.

“We’ll join you in that inferno,” Naga hisses, her golden gaze burning bright as my horde moves in around us.

Vang Troi gives Yvan, Naga, and Soleiya a look of agreement before pinning her steely gaze once more on the Vu Trin. “We stand with Yvan and Soleiya Guryev and Naga the Unbroken’s horde in this demand,” she states, her lips lifting in a slight smile. “So, you’d best lead the way, Noi’khin.”

Chapter Eight

Cycle of History

Elloren Guryev

Noilaan

“We seek to align with you to save Erthia,” Vang Troi declares as she finishes her petition to Noilaan’s Vo Conclave.

Niko Luun, the golden-eyed Vo Conclave leader, stands on the riverbank before us just past the Eastern-facing wall of Noilaan’s runic border, the white-capped Vo River spread out before us, Yvan and Soleiya flanking me. Several members of the Conclave bracket Niko, including a heavy Vu Trin military presence. They’ve let only a small number of us through, including Aislinn’s sick relatives and Priest Wyn Juun and the ill baby.

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