Page 246 of The Dryad Storm

“What are you sensing?” Yvan hisses.

“Geopower...” I barely manage to answer before purple lines blink into being all over the riverbank. The net extends in every direction, including down over the Vo River’s entire bed, the Waters lighting up a more vivid, ripping purple. Large violet geo-runes explode into existence across the geo-net’s land-based expanse, openings appearing in their centers.

My eyes widen.

These are passages leading out of the Sublands.

Varg-shielded Subland Elves are suddenly streaming out of the passages. I spot Fyon Hawkkyn, Clive Soren, and Andras’s former love, Sorcha Xanthippe, in the lead. An army of Smaragdalfar, then Rafe and Diana’s Lupine pack, and Amaz and Keltish soldiers stream in behind them, including Andras’s heavily tattooed mother, Astrid Volya, with Andras’s son in her arms.

“Konnor!” Andras calls out to the child at the same time that Freyja roughly cries out “Clive!”

My heart leaps as Freyja strides out to meet Clive, and Andras sets off at a sprint toward his son. Effrey and Olilly run in behind Fyon, and an emotional sound bursts from Sparrow’s throat as she and Thierren set out toward them.

Both Effrey and Olilly are gripping glowing violet geo-styluses, Effrey’s purple Strafeling aura burning visibly bright. And Olilly... her aura might not be strong enough to be visible, but it still holds a formidable level of might, both youths’ power connected to the purple geo-magic that blasted through Noilaan’s imprisoning Subland barrier.

“Holy hells,” Bleddyn exclaims. “Did Effrey and Olilly just free the Sublands?”

Gareth surges forward, a euphoric smile on his face as he passes us and raises his hand to the Vo River, lightning coursing over his skin.

Renewed shock blasts through everyone’s power as whales breach the surface of the Vo in explosive sprays of water. Their seismic current of storm energy hits me, and frissons of lightning crackle around my lines. Deep-blue Selkie soldiers and other Oceanic peoples sit astride them, more Ocean-shifter soldiers streaming offthe Vu Trin naval ships, along with Vu Trin soldiers, and swiftly carried to shore by small skiffs and more ocean creatures.

All of the incoming forces raise III-marked palms as a host of kindred animals close in alongside them, a large purple grizzly bear kindred lumbering behind Clive as he and Freyja sweep each other into a passionate embrace and Andras gathers his son into his muscular arms.

“They’reallallied with us,” Yvan marvels in Wyvern as we grip each other’s hands, a powerful bolt of emotion blazing through our bond.

“My brother!” Marina cries and signs out to the Selkie male in the lead at the same moment that Fain and Lucretia call out “Zephyr!”

I realize Zephyr must be the steel-hued Sylphan Vu Trin soldier running in beside Marina’s tall, formidable-looking brother. The unlikely couple’s intermingled water-and-air magic flows around each other in an ardent caress as my Dryad’khin call out to incoming friends and loved ones.

“Stand down!” High Commander Quoi Zhon calls out to her knot of non-Dryad’khin soldiers, clearly realizing they’re grievously outnumbered, all of them pointedly resheathing their swords.

Tears sting my eyes as Niko Luun shoots Quoi Zhon a look of pure fury, his hate no longer holding any bite. Because I know, deep in my heart, as Sage and Ra’Ven reach Mora’lee and take their baby Fyn’ir and young Fern into their loving arms while Dryad’khin embrace and press their III-marked palms together, their fingers twining tight, that right now, in this moment, the war is truly over.

“You are no longer the majority leader, Niko Luun,” Vang Troi calls out, glancing up at the monstrous storms gaining ground above. “Which is a good thing. Erthia can’t withstand this type of division any longer.”

Vang Troi’s words strike deep, as Shadow flashes through the Vo’s shielding with intensifying force—a Death Reckoning ready to snap its leash. Hazel, Viger, my ravens, and all the other Deathkin have bought us time... but will it prove to be enough?

Can we swiftly use that time to repair enough of the damage we’ve wrought to have any future at all?

A tingle races across my palm, and my eyes widen as the Verdyllion pulses a revolutionary directive through the Forest link I share with all my Dryad’khin. The Wand erupts into a prism-edged glow that’s brighter than anything I’ve ever seen emanating from it, as it pulses out a subversive image to us all, our next,world-changing step crystal clear. My gaze pivots to Yvan’s then toward my fellow Tree’khin, the same stunned look on everyone’s face quickly morphing into expressions of fierce, collective resolve.

Pulse quickening, I turn to Bleddyn as the momentous crossroads bears down. “You once told me,” I say to her, “that your religion wasno children dying of curable things on the other side of a wall.”

Bleddyn’s lip tics up even as a look of dead-serious awe overtakes her gem-green eyes. “I did, in fact, say that.”

“Is that still your religion,” I press, “even if a good number of those children are Mages and Alfsigr Elves?”

Bleddyn glances toward Aislinn’s sick niece, Erin, and the baby cradled in Wyn Juun’s arms, clearly remembering, as I am, all the desperate people trapped on the other side of the runic border beside us.

Bleddyn nods, a fierce light shining in her emerald eyes. “Yeah,” she says with a broad grin. “It’s still my religion.”

And I can see in her gaze that she senses the potential ramifications of this moment as potently as me.Here.Righthere.

This is how the cycle of history ends.

And how hope begins.

Vang Troi climbs onto a large, flat boulder along with Sylvan and Yulan. “Dryad’khin!” she calls out to everyone assembled, her voice amplified by the rune she’s swept into existence before herself and the two Dryad Fae, the word holding its own against the mounting Shadow storms. Vang Troi quiets as if searching for her next words in the vision the surviving Forest is streaming out to every Tree’khin.

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