Page 94 of The Dryad Storm

Awe consumes her as she takes in the huge, magnified rocks surrounding her and feeding geo-energy into the Forest floor, working in concert with tendriling lines of black twining around the stones to break down rotted debris and feed Life-supporting minerals into the Forest.

To spark the reemergence of Life.

Tendrils of gray Shadow begin to flow into Sparrow’s microscopic world from all sides. Dread overtakes her as the gray tendrils siphon up the regenerative black lines, their power leaching away until there is nothing but Shadowed stone and gray filth, all of it devoid of geopower.

Devoid of Balance.

Sparrow’s gut clenches, the purple energy ignited within her sputtering as she recoils and finds herself suspended, once more, inside III’s root-world of giantcrystals, a palpable urgency vibrating through the Great Tree.

Sparrow gives a small start as a constellation of Erthia’s most beautiful violet stones blink into being, palm-size, and begin to slowly orbit around her: amethyst, charoite, sugilite, tanzanite, iolite, grape agate.

Grape agate.

Sparrow’s heart stretches toward the kindred pull of this stone, which is stronger than all the others. She reaches for it, her fingers hungrily wrapping around the grape agate’s bumpy exterior.

Rays of purple light scythe out from Sparrow’s clenched hand, all the other stones absorbed into the stone in her hand as Sparrow draws in the deepest breath of her entire life. Geo-bindings of metallic gold are suddenly shivering out of her form like tight twine giving way, twine she never knew she was imprisoned by. Geo’din’s Watcher birds spring to life, perched on the huge purple crystals around her, the birds’ translucent, multihued forms shimmering.

Sparrow’s mind whirls with confusion as she looks at the prismatic Watchers of the Uriskal faith, the vision of High Priest Vyoor’s murder of the woman resurging, the story of the murder dressed up in holy language and enshrined in her people’s holy text.

Cast into turmoil over this religion she has prayed to all her life, Sparrow looks pleadingly at Geo’din’s messenger birds.

What is true and what isn’t?she agonizes to them and to the Great Tree.

A warmth pulses in the center of her heart—a warmth she knows is her answer from the birds and the Tree, an energy building in the central Geo’light of her soul.

Waiting to be unleashed.

The grape agate in Sparrow’s hand contracts, drawing her gaze toward the newly slender purple rod of fused, spherical stones, energy tingling through it. She pulls in a surprised breath, relaxing her fingers slightly. Astylus. There’s an image of the Great Tree marked on her palm beneath it, the Tree’s true name pulsing through her mind—III.

Joy fills Sparrow as the Great Tree’s rush of love floods her, invigorating her very soul with the energy of invitation to revolution.

On behalf of Erthia’s Life-nourishing soil.

Sparrow’s fingers tighten around the stylus... and she accepts the call.

Thierren, she thinks as tears mist her eyes, wishing she could send a message to him through the Tree.Thierren, my love. We’re not done breaking boundaries.A crookedgrin is suddenly lifting Sparrow’s mouth, her life falling into place all around her like a garment being stitched together.I’m going to reclaim my geomancy power. And help all the Urisk women of Erthia reclaim it, as well...

A largeBOOMshakes the world.

A hard sting flashes through the image of III marked on Sparrow’s palm, and she’s filled with a sense of the entire Tree recoiling. The giant crystals surrounding her begin to tint gray, poisonous tendrils of the gray seeping in from all sides.

Sparrow can tell, from the pulsing sting in her palm, that it’s not a vision this time.

It’s the true Shadow. Coming for III.

Sparrow grits her teeth and raises her stylus.“Shield me!”she snarls out in Uriskal.

Violet light flashes from her stylus, and a translucent violet shield rushes around her in a great orb just as the last of the surrounding purple cuts out and she’s hit by the agonizing sense of treesscreaming. Sparrow stiffens, her terror mounting as Marcus Vogel’s image shivers into being in the back of her mind, his pale green eyes lit with silver fire.

“I’m coming for you,” he croons, his expression viper calm as he lifts the Shadow Wand and points it at the stylus in her hand. “I see what you’ve done, and I’m coming for you, Urisk Witch. I will consume every last speck of Erthia’s geopower. And you along with it.”

I’m trapped, Sparrow realizes as her terror flares higher, an intuitive sense of the Shadow power’s every line of attack filling her.

Vogel is attacking the Northern Forest along with its soil, she realizes, her dread surging.

And I’m trapped inside III’s power.

Chapter Eight

---