Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
My fingers tingle with excess magic as I press my palm against another stone block, channeling heat through my skin until the rock glows orange-red at the edges.
The sweat trickling down my neck follows the curve of my spine as I fuse the ancient stone to the shrine wall on the outskirts of Tirene’s capital.
The sacred space hums with power.
Sterling’s water magic spirals with Agnar’s steady earth energy while my fire fuses the elements together. My muscles ache, but there’s satisfaction in restoration, in healing something broken before it’s lost forever.
The tiny woodland shrine doesn’t look like much. A simple stone structure nestled between ancient drakewood trees, it’s older than the palace itself. A place where our ancestors once prayed for good harvests and healthy children.
Sterling works with his characteristic focus. His brow furrows as he coaxes water from the air, freezing it into mortar that binds the stones together more securely than any human-made cement.
His motions are precise, economical. No wasted energy.
My pulse gives a familiar flutter as I observe him.
“You two ready for the next one?” Agnar’s cheerful query breaks my reverie. He uses his earth magic to heft a stone block that’s too heavy for three normal men to carry.
I wipe sweat from my forehead with my sleeve. “Always the overachiever.”
Agnar grins, the light catching on the thin white scar across his cheek. “Just keeping pace with your fire, Your Majesty.”
Movement at the tree line captures my attention.
Not the casual stroll of forest creatures, but rather, the stumbling gait of someone in distress.
A woman staggers into the clearing, her simple village dress torn at the hem, her face streaked with mud and wild panic. Behind her, others follow. A man carrying a child. An elderly couple supporting each other. More villagers wobble into the sanctuary of the shrine’s clearing.
I gather my fire just below the surface, readying myself for a threat. Sterling and Agnar drop what they’re doing, their hands flying to their weapons as they settle into defensive postures. Around us, guards lift swords and draw arrows, watching for whoever or whatever is chasing so many people.
I come forward when the woman reaches for me. “What’s happened?”
Leaves and twigs tangle in her hair. Scratches cover her face.
“The grove.” She clutches my arm in desperation, her eyes wide with terror. “It’s alive. Expanding. Swallowed half our village already.” Her nails dig deeper into my skin as she leans closer. “It’s eating people. Snatching them from the sky. We had to flee.”
A chill sinks into my flesh. Another side effect of the gods’ civil war. Though this new calamity sounds especially vicious.
Once is strange.
Twice may or may not be a coincidence.
But three times? That’s a conspiracy.
The question is, why?
And are these attacks only targeted at the Tirenese? “Which grove?”
She points northwest with a shaking hand, toward the direction of the woods that border the village of Lydonia. “The old one. With the sacred trees.”
Against the darkening afternoon sky, an unnatural green glow pulses like a heartbeat on the horizon. “Sterling.”
He’s already at my side, his body a wall of steady strength. “I see it. We’ll send word to the capital and call for reinforcements.”
Agnar pulls a message tube from his belt, scribbles a quick note, and whistles. A royal guard emerges from the tree line to take the message before soaring away. With the way the world is going, we always have at least a few guards close by.
“Come on.” I swallow the lump of apprehension in my throat. “These people need help.”
We reach the edge of Lydonia in minutes, Sterling and I flying ahead, Agnar following with a contingent of guards.
What greets us isn’t destruction in the usual sense.
No fire. No broken buildings. No screaming livestock. Not even traces of blood.
Instead, the landscape itself appears to be…shifting.
We land on the outskirts of the village, out of reach of the sacred grove. The once expansive group of ancient trees revered for centuries now flashes with sickly green light.
My jaw drops when a tree at the edge yanks its roots from the ground. In an eerily humanlike motion, the tree lurches six paces forward, branches creaking like old bones as it settles into the soil again.
Right on top of a winged corpse.
I rub my chest. That’s what I get for thinking no one was hurt.
“Gods.” I clamp my lips closed as soon as the word leaves my mouth. At this point, calling the gods’ attention upon myself seems more likely to harm than help.
The trees groan as they move, their roots tearing through soil like fingers through soft dough. Branches reach for the village walls with deliberate, insidious intent. The unnaturalness fills me with dread.
Villagers scream and scatter as another tree uproots itself and crushes a small shed beneath its massive trunk. Water gushes from the earth in abnormal fountains, threatening to wash away what’s left of the village.
Sterling raises his hands to direct his power. “I’ve got the water.”
Agnar lands with a heavy thud behind us. “We’ve got the earth.” He and two of the guards march forward, arms moving in tangent as they push back the encroaching trees.
Fire sparks at my fingertips. “I’ve got the trees.” A firebreak across the advancing line should stop this assault.
“Don’t!” Agnar grabs my wrist, blue eyes wide with more than just fear. “They’re sacred trees. Who knows what burning them might trigger? Don’t forget what happened with the dryads.”
Dammit. He’s right.
These aren’t ordinary trees. Even notwithstanding their new ability to walk.
And eat.
I shudder at the visual.
They’re ancient, connected to the magic of the land itself. Destroying them could worsen an already shitty situation. Leaves already smolder among the branches. Proof the villagers tried to fight back before giving up and fleeing.
Agnar drops to one knee, pressing his palms to the ground. Earth rises in response, forming barriers to redirect the flood waters Sterling’s struggling to contain. But even as the wall takes shape, the soil beneath Agnar shifts and warps.
The hill we landed on stretches and moves as if being worked by invisible hands.
Instinctively, we all jump and hover just above the ground.
Branches snap out. A leafy appendage grapples a guard who doesn’t get out of the way fast enough. His screams rend the air, then abruptly stop when his neck snaps. The branches release him, and his body smacks the earth.
A wave of nausea crashes over me. I gulp in air, wishing I could burn the image of the lifeless guard from my memory.
Then the tree grapples another unsuspecting guard.
Fucking magical trees.
Just because I can’t destroy them doesn’t mean I can’t stop them.
I pour flameless heat into the curve of the branch holding the guard.
Steam rises and wood creaks as it dries. Sap runs thick and slow. Not one to be caught unaware twice, the guard, a young woman who looks barely old enough to serve, retracts her wings. Without the extra appendages, the curve of the branch no longer holds her, and she slips loose.
At least this one survived.
“Sterling, freeze the sap! Agnar, funnel the water. Fire users, dry the soil so it hardens.” The orders tumble from my lips as I swoop forward to catch the woman.
The falling guard is no slouch. As soon as she’s free, her wings snap out to slow her fall. “Yes, Your Majesty!”
She spins and directs her magic to the hillside, helping to stabilize it while bending her knees to soften her landing.
Oh. She’s impressive.
“Ha!” Agnar pivots to face a different direction. “You always come up with the most innovative uses for magic, Lark. Full of surprises!”
I can’t help but smile at that. Fire doesn’t need flame to be effective. Dirt can be dust just as much as boulders.
Above us, a dragon’s roar splits the sky. All heads snap up.
Several of the great beasts loop overhead.
Their scales reflect the abnormal green glow.
When I release the mental dampening that keeps me from being overwhelmed by their emotions all the time, I sense their unease.
Nailah, her orange and yellow hues blending with the sun, circles high.
Kaida hovers below her like a living shadow.
The rest seem to be wild dragons, drawn here by their own curiosity.
Dragons don’t fear much, but something about this phenomenon disturbs them deeply.
Then again, they might also instinctively fret that the trees are larger predators.
Great. If the dragons feel too threatened, they’ll burn down the grove without hesitation.
A redhaired guard flies down on a tan, sweat-dampened alicorn. “Your Majesties!” Her voice cracks with urgency. “The Shrine of Dawn—”
“Not now,” Sterling grits out, muscles straining as he wrestles with casting a freezing rain over the sacred grove.
“It’s moving.” The guard gestures wildly behind her. “Taking the entire hillside with it. People are trapped inside!”
I shift toward Sterling, and our eyes meet in shared horror. The Shrine of Dawn is far away, on the Eastern border. If the same phenomenon is happening there…
“Go.” Sweat drips down Agnar’s face as he raises another earth barrier, his voice filled with grim determination. “I’ve got this.”
Before we can move, two more guards arrive.
The first one, a male guard with spiked blond hair, approaches. “The Temple of Mercy is sinking into the ground. The priests are evacuating, but many elderly devotees are refusing to leave.”
“Border villages are fighting over suddenly shifting landmarks.” The other guard, a middle-aged man with ebony skin, pauses to take a breath. “The river that marks the boundary with Aclaris and Kamor has changed course three times since dawn.”
Yet another guard comes flying in low, her pale wings extended to slow her descent. “Kamor’s troops are mobilizing along the Western Front.”
The messages blur together, each crisis more impossible than the last.