Page 27 of Of Blood & Stone

Elnok stared at the open palm, still wary of the warrior’s motive in all of this, for he knew even the most noble of acts were spurred by personal gain. He needed to be cautious in case betrayal lay ahead. Either way, he needed to get into Estea to find the tree, and there was no way of making it past the forest’s monsters without a Dynami.

Elnok shook his hand.

“Here’s to finding that tree, Dynami.”

The warrior smiled, “Call me Kharis.”

Chapter 7

Nothing’s the Same

Willows covered the temple’s gardens in a cool, green shade as the morning sun continued its journey into the sky. Golden power shimmered in the small grove, the threads of light wrapping around hands, forearms, and shoulders, slicing into freshly marred backs.

Sylzenya’s own scar along ached as she stood—watching. The High One had asked her to assist the Kreenas that morning since the kingdom-wide banquet would be tonight. He told her that, although her power was gone, her presence would provide stability.

A sense of normalcy.

Yet nothing felt normal.

Aretta’s Willow continued appearing in her dreams, its crystallized trunk and limbs streaming with her goddess’ power. The bird, the compass, the gold ring—they haunted her, causing her to wake in fits, drenched in sweat. She ignored it; all of it.

Normal.

Everything needed to go back to normal.

Hands laced together, her fingernails cut into her skin, a drop of blood running down her lightly tanned hands the same way Nyla’s back bled as she created her fourth plum tree of the day. As Nyla focused on their goddess’ power, Sylzenya stepped forward, picking one of the swollen fruits off the branch, swiping her thumb up and over its soft skin.

“Well?” Nyla asked, sweat shining on her pale skin while her disheveled black hair covered her eyes, “Does this one taste right?”

Sylzenya sank her teeth into the plum. Tart and sweet, the stone fruit’s juice dripped down her chin, staining her skin a reddish purple. It was far better than the other three, which were either too sour or painstakingly bland.

“I’m impressed,” Sylzenya replied, “I might even say it’s delicious.”

Nyla laughed, her smile mixed with an unmistakable look of pain.

“If you could tell the High One, I’d fancy myself a break.”

“You’re a Kreena now,” Sylzenya replied, “you’re free to rest as you find fit.”

“SureI can,” she said through strained breaths.

“You need to take care of yourself, Nyla. He knows that.”

“Look, you might be here because you enjoy the traditions, the rituals, and everything else we’re asked to do, but you know why I’m here.”

Sylzenya paused. “I thought your aunt’s shop was doing better?”

“Just because she’s doing better doesn’t mean she can suddenly afford the crops she needs for her shop to make ends meet,” Nyla grunted. “So, if you can put in a word for me with the High One, I’d appreciate it.”

Her friend let out a long breath as she broke her palms from the ground, golden light retreating into the soil as the plumtree’s growth stunted. She clawed through the dirt and grabbed the now yellow orodyte. As her friend stored the stone in her pocket and drank greedily from her waterskin, Sylzenya took another bite of the plum, uncertain what she could possibly say to provide comfort.

With her power gone, there wasn’t much to offer. The thought sliced through her deeper than her Kreena cut. Pain was a small price for the wellbeing of their people, and while her friend and companions still offered their power sacrificially, all Sylzenya could do was stand and watch.

Helpless.

She blinked away the tears forming in her eyes.

“If you’re headed towards the healing baths, I’ll join you,” Sylzenya said as she helped Nyla to her feet, “My back hasn’t healed properly since…”

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