Page 41 of The Onyx Covenant

“If your goal is to knock your father aside, then I’m with you,” she says, her words fierce. “As long as you don’t plan to follow in his steps.”

Something in me breaks that she could think so little of me. “You don’t know me if you say that,” I say, my voice rough with hurt.

“I thought I knew you, Theron.” The simple statement carries years of pain.

I stop walking, tugging her to a halt beside me. Even in darkness, I turn to face her, my free hand finding her shoulder.

“Then use this time to get to know me again,” I say, pouring everything I feel into the words. “We start fresh. No assumptions. No past. Just you and me, as we are now.”

She goes quiet, and when we start walking again, the silence stretches between us like a living thing. Her fingers remain laced with mine, neither pulling closer nor pushing away, and she never responds. But she doesn’t have to—I pick up the way her pulse beats faster and stronger.

It’s not forgiveness. Not yet. But it’s a beginning.

The ground begins to soften, and we’re both crouching low, hands tentatively exploring our surroundings.

“Moss,” I confirm, fingers tracing over the soft, cushiony surface. It’s moist to the touch and springy under pressure. “We’ve reached the mossy ground Melian mentioned.”

“So the heart tree must be here,” Lyra says.

I stand slowly, careful not to pull on her as I do. The air here is different, still and heavy with the scent of vanilla flowers that seems to come from all directions. I turn in a slow circle, taking her with me, trying to catch any hint of the massive tree.

I run a hand through my hair. “This feels like an open field. The tree could be anywhere.”

“We keep going until we find it.”

So that’s what we do, moving cautiously across the mossy ground, hands outstretched like sleepwalkers. After several minutes of finding nothing but more moss, Lyra sighs.

“This is insane. How are we supposed to find one tree in what feels like acres of open space?” It doesn’t stop us from walking around aimlessly.

“Maybe we should—” My words cut off as my boot catches on something hard and gnarled, sending me stumbling. “Shit!”

“What is it?” Lyra asks, steadying herself as I regain my balance.

I crouch down, my hands exploring what tripped me. “Tree root. A big one.” I trace my fingers along its length, feeling the woody texture. “Really big, actually.”

“The heart tree,” Lyra breathes. “It has to be. Follow it!”

We both laugh at the sudden breakthrough. We use our feet to trace the root, shuffling ahead carefully.

“This way,” I say, following the root as it grows thicker.

We travel in tandem, one foot sliding forward to find the root, then the other foot joining it. It’s awkward but effective. The root widens beneath our steps, rising higher from the ground.

“It’s close,” Lyra whispers, excitement making her voice tremble slightly. “I can feel it.”

More careful steps and my outstretched hand collides with something solid. Rough bark meets my fingertips, warm and alive in a way that ordinary trees aren’t.

“Found it,” I say, my palm flattening against the huge trunk. It pulses faintly beneath my touch, like a sleeping giant’s heartbeat. “This must be the heart tree.”

“Oh, she feels huge. Now we need to find the token.”

We circle the tree, hands exploring its surface. The trunk is enormous. It would take four people with outstretched arms to encircle it.

“I hear something,” Lyra says suddenly. “Like parchment fluttering in the breeze. Up high.”

I cock my head to the side and listen. She’s right. There’s a faint rustling above us. I raise my free hand, stretching for the fluttering object, but I can’t reach it. And by the direction of the sound, it should be right above us.

“Our token. I’ll lift you,” I suggest. “You could stand on my shoulders.”

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