Page 27 of Reaper's Ruin
Selyse set to work gathering materials from around the cottage—herbs, vials of liquid, small crystals, and little trinkets. She worked methodically, grinding, mixing, arranging items in patterns I couldn’t decipher. When everything was prepared, she instructed us to stand before the massive tree behind her cottage.
“This is one of the ancient trees,” she explained, her hand running along the bark. “The veil is thinner here. With my magic, it will allow you to pass between.”
“What makes this tree special?” Soraya asked, studying the enormous tree with curious eyes.
“It’s a Gateway Tree,” Selyse said, a note of reverence in her voice. “There are perhaps a hundred scattered throughout Faelora—ancient trees that serve as natural portals between places, and sometimes between realms.”
“Portals?” Soraya echoed.
Selyse nodded. “With the right knowledge, these trees can be used to travel great distances instantly. Each is connected to specific others, forming a network across Faelora.” She traced a finger along one of the trunk’s deep furrows. “My ancestors have been guardians of this particular tree for generations. It’s one of the reasons our cottage stands here.”
“So, you can create portals with these trees?” I asked.
“Yes, though my abilities are limited compared to my mother’s. I can open pathways to certain locations—places I’ve studied and prepared for. And in this instance, I will make a portal between your world and mine.”
She pressed her palm flat against the trunk, murmuring words in a language I didn’t recognize. Symbols appeared on the bark, glowing faintly gold, then fading away.
“The spell is in two parts,” she said. “First, I’ll open a pathway through the veil. Then I’ll bind you to physical forms.” She lookedat us both seriously. “Are you ready? Once begun, I can’t stop until it’s done.”
Soraya nodded eagerly. I gave a single, short nod.
Selyse began to chant, her voice rising and falling in that strange language. The air around the tree shimmered, like heat rising from sun-baked stone. The symbols etched into the bark glowed brighter, pulsing in rhythm with her words.
“Now,” she said, “reach out and touch the tree.”
Soraya looked at me uncertainly. I nodded, though I had my own doubts. Together, we reached out toward the trunk.
My fingers met solid bark.
For the first time in eight hundred years, I touched something in the living realm.
Shock rippled through me, followed by a surge of something I couldn’t name. Not quite pleasure, not quite pain—a rush of sensation so intense it bordered on overwhelming.
“Hold on,” Selyse instructed, still working her strange magic. “Don’t let go.”
I gripped the bark, feeling its rough texture beneath my fingertips. Beside me, Soraya made a small sound of wonder, her own hand pressed against the tree.
The golden light spread from the symbols to encompass the tree, then flowed down to envelop our hands, our arms, our bodies. It felt warm and cool at once, like sunlight and shadow mingled together.
“Step forward,” Selyse commanded. “Through the tree, into my realm.”
“Through it?” Soraya asked doubtfully.
“Trust me,” the sorceress replied.
I took a deep breath—a habit from life that had never quite left me—and stepped forward, pulling Soraya with me.
For a moment, there was resistance, as if we moved through honey rather than air. Then we were through, standing on the other side—in the living realm.
Colors exploded around me. The muted grays and silvers of the Shadowveil vanished, replaced by a world so vibrant it was almost painful to behold. The forest blazed with a thousand shades of green—emerald leaves, jade moss, sage undergrowth. The sky above, visible in patches through the canopy, was the deepest blue I’d ever seen. Wildflowers dotted the clearing in splashes of purple, yellow, and white so bright they seemed to pulse with inner light.
And the sounds—gods, the sounds. Birds calling, leaves rustling, insects humming, water bubbling somewhere nearby. A symphony of life that had been muted for centuries behind the veil.
Scents flooded my newly awakened senses—rich earth, sweet flowers, the sharp tang of pine, the smoke from Selyse’s hearth. I could taste the air on my tongue, clean and crisp and alive.
But despite the wonder of the world around me, still, I felt nothing. I was a spirit, still separated from this vibrant world by the thinnest of veils—close enough to see it in its full glory, but unable to truly touch it.
“The second part,” Selyse said, her voice clearer now that we were in the same realm. “The binding.”
