78. Rosalina
Rosalina
Me? My mother wants me to save Castletree?
“Mom,” I whisper, clutching her hand. It’s cold.
Her eyes burrow into mine, deep brown. No glow left but full of fire.
“You have to save it,” she rasps. “Castletree’s still alive. Only you can save her.”
“What about Papa?” I gasp. “You used your magic to tie his life with Castletree’s. But if you’re human, does that mean…” I can’t bear to utter the words.
“His lifeforce is woven with Castletree’s. The magic within the tree has long become its own. Of the high rulers. As long as the tree lives, so does your father.”
My heart pounds like a war drum in my chest. It’s not just a castle. Not just a home to dozens of people.
It’s a lifeline to all the magic in the Vale. It’s Papa’s lifeline.
I swallow hard, chest tight. All around us, the vast, hollowed-out interior of Castletree shudders. It’s like being inside the bones of a dying god. Briars crumble from the walls, and chunks of bark fall away. I feel the tree’s heartbeat, faint and failing.
“I don’t know if I can,” I whisper.
A deafening crack splits the air.
The front doors erupt in a storm of splinters, blown inward by a force that reeks of rot. And through the shattered threshold, creatures pour in, snarling, clawed, and unnatural.
A monstrous horde of goblins and trolls charges into the chamber. Their growls reverberate through the roots, shaking the ground.
A screech sounds above, and the high stained-glass windows shatter in a spray of color. Harpies dive through, shrieking, wings like torn parchment, talons outstretched. Their eyes are wrong—completely black, no pupils, no whites. Just void.
Even from afar, her order to her creations still stands. They’re under Sira’s control.
The air fills with howls and beating wings and the sickly scent of rot.
They’re coming from all sides.
“We’ll protect you!” Dayton roars, summoning his trident in a flash of ocean-blue steel. He charges forward, meeting the first wave of goblins head-on with a wild grin.
“We need to save the staff!” I cry. “What if I can’t—what if I’m not enough?”
“You are!” Mom says. Even as a human, her voice rings with command.
“I’ll evacuate the staff,” Farron says, and he’s already gone, vanishing down one of the curved wooden passages.
“We’ll buy you time, Rose.” Keldarion crafts a blade of ice, shimmers into his armor, and runs straight into the fray beside Dayton, his sword carving arcs of frost through the air.
Ezryn steps between me and the chaos, his cloak billowing, hammer glowing in his hand. “No one touches you,” he says, calm and deadly.
Caspian falls to his knees, weak but upright, trembling with effort. Justus and George press close to him and Mom, guarding us all.
Alright, my turn.
I stare at Castletree. The walls crack. The great boughs groan overhead.
It’s all falling apart. But it’s not gone. Not yet.
I sink to my knees and press a hand to the bark coating the ground, reaching for its essence beneath the crumbling stone and thorns.
It pulses. Weakly.
Alive. Calling out for help.
I feel you.
I’ve always had a connection to Castletree.
And I’ll be damned if I let it fall.