Page 53 of Of Blood & Stone

Sylzenya obeyed, pulling away the dirt that surrounded the willow’s trunk. A yellow glow fought through the soil, lighting her eyes once she dug far enough to retrieve it. Carefully, she wrapped her fingers around it, the once clear white crystal now pulsing with a yellow light at its center. The orodyte was no larger than a ripe apple.

“Do you understand what this is?” her father inquired.

“Dynameis wear it on their armor,” Sylzenya answered. “It’s where their power comes from, so they might defeat the monsters of Lhaal Forest.”

“Your studies have done you well,” her father said, “But there’s more. The only way you could create life through the earth is by gathering its impurities and sealing it in this piece of orodyte. In turn, Dynameis can wield the impurity held in this stone through their connection with Aretta’s powers, using what was meant to destroy the earth to instead kill those monstrous creatures that threaten our borders.” He paused, sliding a finger down the stone. “You’ve gifted our people a chance to survive in more ways than one.”

Sylzenya couldn’t stop her hand from shaking.

“Flower bud,” her mother whispered as she softly folded Sylzenya’s hand into hers, “It’s a responsibility that will come with time. You’re only a sapling of fourteen years. A Kreena will be your guide these next ten to perfect your skills. You needn’t fear this.”

Her parents thought she feared the power she held, but they couldn’t be further from the truth.

She feared a life apart from them.

“I’ll do my best,” Sylzenya said as she forced her hand to cease its trembling, “for Aretta, for our people...”

For both of you.

“We know you will,” her father said with a gentle voice. “We look forward to the day we see your beautiful, shining face again.”

Her mother and father embraced her. Sylzenya dug her fingers into their arms, their warm, familiar scents causing the sobs in her throat to well inside of her. The orodyte slipped from her fingers.

“The time has come, Sylzenya,” the High One proclaimed, his voice deep as the thrum of her own heartbeat.

Her parents let her go.

She clung to them, digging her nails into her father’s tunic and her mother’s dress.

“Please,” she whispered, “don’t leave me.”

Her father’s eyes turned glassy, brows dipping as he caressed her face. Hope lit her chest. She knew this face. He would take her back, tell the High One this was a mistake. They wouldn’t leave her here unless she wanted it. They loved her too greatly to let her go.

“We’ll see you soon, Sylzenya,” he whispered, kissing her forehead in goodbye, “I promise.”

No.

The High One carefully pried Sylzenya’s hands off of her parents. One of the Kreenas came to their side, her long black hair plaited in two strands down her back.

Suddenly, the ground quaked, and Sylzenya’s willow twisted into itself.

She backed away, tripping over a rogue branch, hitting the dirt as the tree grew without her power. Horror filled her lungs as she opened her mouth in a soundless scream. The sun disappeared, casting the grove in darkness. Every tree and person disappeared into shadow, everything except her willow. Instead, the tree grew taller and wider.

Blinding light erupted from the tree. Sylzenya covered her face, tears staining her cheeks as she tried to run, but her muscles refused.

“For life there is a price, and only in pain is it made whole, Sylzenya Phatris,” a loud voice echoed from the glowing tree—Aretta’s Willow, “Your choice has been made, and so your consequence is set in blood and stone.”

Pain shot up her back as the gray and white feathered bird flew to her, landing at her feet. The memory of her dedication to the temple had vanished.

“Please,” Sylzenya yelled at the bird, “I take it back. I don’t need the compass. I don’t need Aretta’s Willow!”

“If you’re to restore your power and protect your people, then Aretta’s Willow is the only way,” the bird said, “Was this not what I told you, Sylzenya Phatris?”

“I found a cure,” she replied, “I don’t need the tree.”

The bird cawed with laughter. “You found a cure, then where is it?”

Sylzenya gulped. “The High One’s almost done making it. I’ll have it soon and my power will be restored.”

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