Page 42 of Three Scorched Kingdoms

Finally, I turn back to look for the others and see Mag and Blossom standing among a group of soldiers. They’re each being given swords and ushered toward the other fighters who are breaking into partners for sparring.

Turning away, I scan for other familiar faces. I haven’t seen the gnomes in hours now and can only hope they’re not getting into trouble wherever they are. Bingo is nowhere in sight.

On my own, I walk out of the training area and head for the path back to the gardens. The clang of weapons rings out behind me, and it only makes me more determined to work on my skills.

They have their weapons training; I have mine.

Except that I have no idea where to begin.

The only thing I know about my magic is that it can re-create what was once destroyed. How that can possibly help fight a war is beyond me.

I rub a hand down my face and kick a rock. It rolls until it bumps the trunk of a tree just off the path that is clearly dying a slow death—and looks to be just about there.

Hmm.

I walk up and stand before the ancient tree, its twisted branches hanging limp like the last breath was sucked out of it centuries ago. The bark is cracked and brittle, flaking off in patches. If my magic can do anything, I want to believe it can bring life back to something that’s already lost its fight. If I canrestore this tree, maybe I can heal the land too. Maybe even help in the war somehow.

I crouch down and press my fingers against the rough bark, feeling the dryness, the absence of life.

“I can do this,” I whisper, trying to convince myself.

Closing my eyes, I concentrate, pushing my magic out, letting it feel its way through the dead wood, down to the roots, into every inch of what the tree used to be. I picture it alive again, its branches heavy with leaves, reaching high toward the sky. I can almost hear the rustling of wind through its restored leaves. I imagine it pulling water from the soil, thriving again.

But something cracks.

My eyes snap open just in time to see one of the larger branches splinter off and crash to the ground with a hollow thud.

“Ugh,” I groan, stepping back.

The tree looks even worse now—if that’s possible. Still lifeless, and now, missing a limb. Frustration burns in my chest. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. Maybe I’m not ready for something this big. Maybe I’m rushing things?—

“Focus,” I mutter, forcing myself to try again. “You’ve got this.”

This time, I reach deeper, calling on more of the magic inside me. I feel it pulsing through my veins, stronger now. I push it into the tree, demanding it respond.Come on, come back to life, I urge it. For a moment, I feel something shift, like the tree is starting to listen. I pour more magic into it, my heart racing as the wood begins to respond, the fibers realigning.

Then the ground starts to rumble.

Slowly, the tree begins to move—but not in the way I imagined. The bark ripples, almost like it’s alive, then starts to crack. Thin, green tendrils sprout—not from the branches but from the roots. I stumble back as the dead trunk groans and bends unnaturally, like it’s trying to free itself from the ground.

I take a step back.

Then another.

The roots, long dormant, now writhe like snakes, slithering across the garden floor. I watch, horrified, as the tree twists into something grotesque, its roots creeping outward, tangling through the dirt.

“Stop!” I throw my hands up, trying to pull back the magic, but it’s too late. The transformation is already complete.

The tree—if you can even call it a tree anymore—stands crooked and deformed. Its once-majestic trunk has become a gnarled mass of twisted wood, the roots sprawling out like some kind of creeping weed.

I stare, heart pounding.

This is not what I meant to do.

Swallowing hard, I step closer to the mess I’ve made. The tree isn’t dead anymore, but it’s not alive in any meaningful way either. It’s something else. Something wrong. More like a shadow of life contorted into a shape that shouldn’t exist.

I kneel, running my hand over one of the twisted roots. How can I use this against the orcs? How can I heal the land with magic that does... this?

I stand, brushing dirt from my hands, staring at the warped tree.

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