Page 263 of The Dryad Storm

Almost everyone is now united in the Dryad’khin goal to bring the Balance back to the Natural World of the East. Through her River’s flow, Tierney can feel the East’s Natural Matrix slowly knitting itself back together, the gray corruption gradually being cleansed from the land. It’s a huge, daunting undertaking, to be sure, so much harder to replenish Nature than it was to destroy it, but with enough Dryad’khin setting their will to the task, Tierney can’t help but think there’s a sliver of hope on the horizon.

But only because of the sacrifice of the Deathkin, which bought them alltime, staving off Nature’s Reckoning.

Her heart tightens, a pang of longing overtaking her as her thoughts turn to Or’myr and Viger both, these two men destined to be the Great Loves of her Asrai and Deathkin lives. She scans her world before her, knowing Viger is out there somewhere, embedded in Nature, along with Sylla and Vesper, Hazel, her kelpies, and Elloren’s Errilor Ravens, their combined auras of Darkness suffusing the surviving Natural World with the rejuvenating power of Death, all of them a bulwark.

To give us all a chance for a future.

Her heart twists tighter as she remembers the mind-expanding feel of Viger’skiss on last year’s Xishlon night. And what he revealed to her about the power of Death to seed Life.

The beginning, not the end.

She pulls in another breath and draws on her own fledgling line of Death Fae Darkness, sliding her fingertips through the water’s surface as she sends a ripple of her power, infused with Xishlon love, out to Viger, anchoring it to her line of fear.

She watches her swirling Darkness radiate in concentric circles through the River’s bright Xishlon purple, then she freezes as what seems like an answering ripple flows back toward hers. Her vision pulses Dark as the circles in the water intermingle before giving way to the purple reflection of the Xishlon moon.

Tears mist Tierney’s eyes.

Someday, she thinks out to Viger, sending the thought through her line of fears.We’ll meet again someday.

Blinking back the tears, she withdraws her hands from her Waters and presses the Vo’s dampness over her heart, giddy anticipation welling. Because what she’s about to attempt might have the power to bring even more hope to Erthia. But she needs a certain Dryad’khin to help her carry out her outrageous plan—her geomancer-Dryad love, who feels like home. Whose power now runs through the Vo’s entire base, cradling it.

Supporting it.

Embracingit.

Crackling energy forks up from the Vo’s bed to sizzle teasingly along the edge of Tierney’s magic. Her heartbeat quickens as Or’myr strides from the riverbank’s dense Forest dressed in his IV-marked, purple-tinted Vu Trin military uniform.

They were wed several months ago, in a joint Asrai and Vo’lon service officiated by Priest Wyn Juun, a huge crowd of loved ones in attendance, including Elloren, Yvan, and Fyordin along with his new love, the fierce shark-shifter Vizz’la, both Fyordin and Vizz’la part of a new Vu Trin–Ocean’kin force protecting the span of water where the Vo River meets the Salish Ocean.

Both Land and Ocean People working to restore the estuary’s health and keep it safe from Vogel’s Shadow sea.

Or’myr flashes Tierney a smile that’s so warm, her thoughts scatter as he sheaths his geo-wand and throws off his tunic to reveal his elaborate Xishlon moon and Vo dragon tattoo emblazoned on his muscular chest, Tierney’s breath hitching atthe sight. He steps into the water and wades to her, her swirling attraction to him bubbling up with ardent force, making her feel a bit breathless.

He’s like my own Xishlon moon, she ponders, amused, admiring his vivid violet hue as they drink each other in for a protracted moment, not touching.

Yet.

“You beckoned me here?” he drawls.

Heart pattering, Tierney slides her hand into her tunic’s pocket and withdraws the dark portal stone inside it, multiple interlocking runes from a number of traditions marking its surface.

“I need your help, Or’myr,” she says as purple fireworks continue to flash above, their violet light dancing over the scene.

Or’myr’s eyes take on a glazed look as he scans her form, his power crackling around her with more heated force. “It’s a bit difficult for me to maintain any semblance of coherent thought around you,” he murmurs. “Seeing as how you’re not onlypurple, but you’re flashing purple light.” He grins. “I’ll make a valiant effort not to hurl myself at you. What is it you need, my love?”

Tierney holds up the portal stone. “I think I might have found a way to charge this stone with enough power to create our river portal.Tonight.”

Or’myr’s eyes widen, and Tierney can tell that, as strong as the moon’s thrall is, her words have managed to cut clear through it.

The East’s destruction of the Zonor River was a major victory for the Shadow, unbalancing in the extreme. She and Or’myr have worked for months alongside Trystan, Vothe, Sithendrile, Fyordin, and a whole host of sorcerers, Asrai and Ocean’kin, to try to find a way to create a complicated underwater portal strong enough to flow a portion of the Vo River’s healthy water into the Zonor’s bed of gray filth. It’s the only plan they’ve come up with that might work to restore the Zonor, all other magical attempts at rejuvenation swallowed by the Zonor’s infestation of Shadow pollution. Up until now, they and their allies have lacked the power needed to fully charge the water portal.

But herein lies a potential way to turn the tide.

“I’ve been told by Noi’khin,” Tierney says, “that if you and I... ‘connect’... under the light of the Xishlon moon, our love-bonded power will be amplified to new heights, giving us a shot at success.”

Or’myr blinks at her. “That’s brilliant,” he enthuses, rapt. “You’rebrilliant.”

Tierney’s face heats as Or’myr’s rise of affection crackles over her in a staticembrace, her own affection for him streaming warm through their bond.

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