Episode 25
Storms and Magic and Bears, Oh My
Arisanna called forth the sun? Cerian gazes down at her uncertain expression. “How?”
She shrugs. “I wished it wasn’t so dark.”
“You simply wished for it?”
She nods.
“I would have made more light. Does the darkness frighten you?”
Is that why she’s so terrified of the forest? She may be trying to hide her fear, but the trembling of her hand on his arm is difficult to overlook.
Whistling wind. He shouldn’t have pushed her to leave the train.
Not that he tried to push her. He sat when she didn’t want to leave. Even offered his hand when she asked for it, which was odd and wonderful in a terrifying way.
He enjoys holding her hand. No one else gets to hold her hand. Just him. Because she’s his now.
What in the Wildthorne Woods is happening to him?
“It’s not the darkness itself,” she whispers. “More the things lurking in it.”
Her life is so bright. Gas lamps everywhere you turn. This must feel so foreign to her.
“I wish it was full daylight,” he murmurs, and to his surprise, the heartlanding grants his request as they both squint in the sun. He looks down at her again, and a smile spreads on his lips of its own accord. “How’s that?”
Her own smile grows, and something inside him tightens at the sight. Has she ever smiled like that for him?
“Much better.” She lets go of his arm, though she leaves her fingers twined with his. “Lead the way.”
For hours, they traipse through the woods, exploring this secret world of theirs. He tells her the Elvish names of all the trees and points out the animal tracks they pass. Whether she cares or not, she acts as though it’s all interesting to her.
The sky gradually darkens, and Cerian gazes up at the storm clouds rolling in. “I think it’s going to rain soon.”
Almost imperceptibly, Arisanna moves closer to him. She’s still clutching his hand. “Can we find the train in time?”
It’s doubtful. They’ve wandered at least a mile from the lake. He doesn’t tell her that, though.
“We don’t need it.”
She watches with a puzzled expression as he takes in their surroundings. To their right lies a flat area beside a large cedar tree. That should do just fine.
Reaching out with his plant magic, he senses the thick, deep roots beneath the soil and beckons them to grow for him.
As they erupt from the ground, Arisanna gasps and presses herself against his side.
For a moment, he almost loses control of his magic, but he’s the son of Nestraya Thariosi Westaria, the most powerful plant wielder in all of Lostariel.
This is simple.
The root grows and shapes itself into a small cabin, complete with shuttered windows and a cedar-bough roof. When he’s finished, he glances down at Arisanna. Her eyes are round, and her mouth forms a small “O” as she takes in the cabin. “That was amazing.”
Her words warm something inside him, but he shrugs.
Pangs of hunger gnaw at his belly, as always happens when he works his plant magic a lot at once. He needs to eat something soon to replenish his magic stores. Elowyn tells him he turns into a bear when he needs food, and Arisanna doesn’t need to experience that.
The first raindrop hits his nose, cold on the stiff wind that suddenly picks up, before he can further contemplate food.
“Come on.” He tugs Arisanna toward the cabin, a sudden deluge pouring behind them as they cross the threshold.
As if the heartlanding were chasing them inside.
Cerian tries not to dwell on that thought as he tosses a series of orb lights around the cabin, casting a cozy golden glow within the shuttered space.
“Thank you,” Arisanna whispers beside him, and he nods.
The hunger closes in around him, nipping at the good mood he’s been in since they stepped off the train together, but there’s nothing to eat in here.
Is eating even possible in the heartlanding? Judging by the angry growl of his stomach, it must be.
“Sorry,” he mutters at the mortifying rumble. It’s unlikely Arisanna didn’t notice. “I always get hungry when I use my plant magic.”
“Even in the heartlanding? That’s fascinating. Well, I don’t see any food. Perhaps we can ask for it. I wish for”—she glances up at him—“venison steak.”
Immediately, a table appears before them with two plates of sizzling meat, and an edge of frustration tickles his psyche. She’s just trying to help. It was kind of her. How is she supposed to know? It’s not as if he clarified.
She shrinks, pulling away but not letting go of his hand. “I did something wrong. You have a...look about you.”
Whistling wind. Is he that transparent? And is she frightened by him? What sort of elf does she think he is?
He’s about to snap something at her when his stomach rumbles again.
Food. He needs to eat before he says something he’ll regret.
“I wish for nuts, berries, leafy greens, and apple slices,” he whispers. “Potatoes and carrots.”
They all appear on the table beside the steaks.
“Oh. That makes sense,” Arisanna says quietly. “Plants.”
“Yes. Thank you for trying, though,” he manages.
She nods, and he glances at their joined hands.
“I suppose you need your hand back,” she says.
The startling desire to hold her beside him forever wars with the irritation building within him, and he reaches for an apple slice to give his mouth something to do besides talk. Nothing good would come out if he tried communicating at the moment.
He should have warned her. Why didn’t he warn her? Father says Cerian and Tharios are just like Mother with their plant magic, though Tharios usually becomes petulant and whiny when his magic runs low.
No one calls him a bear.
Arisanna probably wishes she’d binded with Tharios. Isn’t that what she wanted?
When she tugs her hand away, it just confirms his thoughts.
Then another apple slice appears in front of him as Arisanna holds it out like a peace offering. “I don’t know what’s going on inside your head, but maybe this will help?”
Without speaking, he takes it and barely chews before swallowing. It does help. A little.
She keeps feeding him, handing him more apple slices and carrots at first. When she picks up the bowl of wild blueberries, she looks hesitantly up at him.
Then she lifts one directly to his lips. His heart speeds up as he opens his mouth, and she drops the plump berry onto his tongue.
Whistling wind. She’s feeding him. Herself. With her own hand.
“Sit?” she says softly, and he lowers himself to the chair, maintaining contact with her eyes as she leans back on the edge of the table in front of him.
She offers him another berry, and he parts his lips for her.
“I suppose you can probably feed yourself,” she whispers, but she soon places another blueberry on his tongue, and he doesn’t even consider asking her to stop.
One after another, she feeds him from her hand until the bowl is nearly empty.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, and a barely perceptible nod is her only response. Tentatively, he reaches for one of the few remaining berries and holds it up to her lips. He sets it on her tongue, still gazing into her eyes as his heart pounds. Is it him? Is it her? Does it matter?
“How are you feeling?” she asks softly.
“Much better. Thanks to you.”
Thanks to you? What possessed him to say that? He sounds idiotic.
If Tharios were here, he’d be wearing a smirk wider than his face right now.
“What happened?” There’s no censure in her voice. Just compassion and confusion.
“My plant magic flows too fast sometimes, leaving my magic drained. Elowyn says I turn into a bear when it happens.”
Why did he say that? Arisanna didn’t need to hear that part.
“And eating plants helps your magic?”
He nods, and she slips another berry onto his tongue.
“What happens when your fire magic runs low?”
“It doesn’t. My father has deep magic reserves, and I inherited my fire magic from him.”
“And your plant magic is from your mother?” She feeds him another berry as she gazes down at him.
“Yes. Her magic reserves aren’t as deep.”
A hint of a smile ghosts across Arisanna’s beautiful face. “So every time you use your plant magic, I should be ready to ply you with plant-based foods to keep the bear at bay?”
The thought of her guarding and protecting his magic reserves the way Father cares for Mother does something strange to Cerian’s core. A warmth steals over him, and the sudden, overwhelming urge to pull Arisanna into his arms sends him shooting across their little cabin.
What is happening to him?