8. Chapter 8
There is one simple truth all Mother Blessed know—it is that if Rida is the heart of Wellea, then the Alesi Forest is the soul.
While Rida fuels Wellea and all Yllsora with magic and life, the Alesi breathes reason into it.
These trees were not only where the first men and Mother Blessed dwelled but also where, even today, us Mother Blessed go for solace.
It is our home above any other place, a fortress we can hide away in without disruption if we wish. The temple of all temples.
Bordering Sorrel all the way down to Wellea's center, before the river that meets the Levern Sea, the Alesi is alive as all forests are alive, but it is also alive in the way all common men and Mother Blessed are.
The forest has an innate intelligence, able to recognize friend from foe, able to protect itself fiercely when the time calls for it, the Mother Blessed the only ones granted entry, no man to enter on their own.
Meaning that if the mainland men were to follow us, they would find themselves subject to the forest's defenses, with no mercy to be found.
Thus, it was the swiftest and safest way for Malik and I to flee Sorrel as the fighting continued blaring in the distance, as there was one exception to the rule of the Alesi—anyone could enter the forest, if accompanied by a Mother Blessed.
This exception to the rule was not common knowledge, as when we were young, Malik and I discovered it by accident.
It was a day when I was desperate for a reprieve from the village, my duties as a Mother Blessed and future ruler of Sorrel weighing heavy on me. I had walked to the edge of town, about to step into the forest when I heard Malik's clear voice calling out my name.
"Come on, Lyra," he pleaded, desperate to lift my sour mood, tugging on my hand to coax me away from the forest and back into town.
It was when I tugged back and pulled him past the forest line that I realized what I had done.
We stood frozen for a moment, panicked and waiting for the worst to happen, but found that nothing did.
Malik was hesitant as he walked deeper into the forest with me, his hand never leaving mine, the forest bending as if to examine him.
It didn't take long to realize that pulling him in was how the nimid trees recognized our guests as allies and not enemies, that the trees trusted the judgement of the Mother Blessed and would honor our guest.
We told no one of what we had discovered, for in that forest we found peace, a place that was just ours. It was there that we ran through the thickets, where we could be just a boy and a girl, free from the pressures that followed us with every step.
It was there that our friendship deepened, our relationship blossomed, where we fell in love, and where we became adults, and where we promised one another that no matter what, we would always have each other.
The Alesi held all my happiest memories, as well as ones I never wanted to recall.
It was there I broke down the day Malik left, the nimids the only witnesses to my heartbreak.
It was there I was tempted to never return to society, to become one with the forest, my duty to Sorrel the only thing stopping me. Even up until the Dures' arrival, I found myself going to the Alesi to hide, to gain a moment of reprieve from the village.
So, as we journeyed deep into the Alesi on the outskirts of Sorrel, I was grateful for the forest and the peace it always brought me. I had spent so much time with these trees growing up that they knew me and Malik as well as I did.
There was nothing that was unfamiliar about them.
The feeling of being in their presence was like reuniting with a loved one.
I knew the paths that lay within the forest as well as I knew the layout of my home—where it dipped and curved, what parts were darker than others and where the sun shined the brightest, where the limbs hung low and where they allowed easy passage.
But even with my familiarity, the forest had changed much in the last few years.
The nimid trees that made up much of the forest had grown much larger and foreboding, their trunks as wide as a stone bench and as tall as three temples stacked on top of one another.
They loomed above and around us, and if it were spring, their crowns would have created a canopy above us, completely encapsulating and hiding us in their embrace.
But the snow had picked up over the course of the night and had begun falling in sheets, mercifully muting our footsteps as we traveled.
I chanced a glance at Malik as we slowed to a walk.
It was strange looking over and seeing him next to me.
It was as if we had gone back in time, the pair of us running in the woods once more, fleeing from our duties when they became too much to bear.
And in a way, we were. Only now, we were older and much different versions of ourselves.
I couldn't help the hurt that coursed through me as I observed him.
He had no idea about all those days I spent wondering what had happened, where he had gone, and why he left without a word.
He had no idea how much anguish I had gone through, and now, here he was, walking beside me as if none of it had happened.
Yet the confident gait he once had was gone, now replaced with something hesitant, as if he was innately aware of his every step and how he moved through the forest. Before, he always held himself with an air of easy confidence that I learned to muster much later in life, always entering every room as if they were full of friends and people who adored him.
But now, he was quiet, more contemplative than I had ever seen him.
I watched as he took another step, his clothes clinging to his body as if they were a second skin, the leather one of utility but also ease, and noticed the curling of his shoulders, that he now ducked his head low, as though he were trying to make himself smaller in the midst of the trees.
I could feel the attention of the nimids as we continued to walk deeper into the forest's belly, the sounds of their swaying filling the absence of any conversation. The nimids were different from the Astaros—their branches often seen dancing, moving of their own accord.
Malik brushed back the branches of a thicket and held them aside for me as we walked, and I wondered what he saw when he looked at me now that he had returned.
Did he see the same girl from all those years ago, dressed in clothes made by her brother, embroidered with the sigils of Sorrel and homages to Rida?
Or did he see something else? Another version of me I was not yet aware of, something only he could see?
His eyes caught mine for just a moment before flicking back to the trees that surrounded us.
"It's been a long time since I've been in this forest," Malik said, breaking the tense silence as he took in the vast expanse in front of this.
This specific copse of trees was one Malik and I knew well, secluded and just far enough from Sorrel to feel like you had gotten out of town, but still close enough that you could walk back and be home before dinner.
The last time we walked in this forest together was a few days before the Black Shroud.
We had just gotten word that our betrothal ceremony was to happen soon.
And even with a lifetime of knowing our marriage loomed, that didn't stop the nerves the both of us felt that day.
Everything about us would change the moment we were wed.
No longer would we be just friends, but husband and wife, lord and lady, the responsibilities we have trained for all of our lives now ours.
We would step into our parents' roles and begin the process of making Sorrel a home of our own, ruling how we saw fit.
I thought about that day as we continued to make our way through the Alesi, how we had stayed within its confines for hours on end, basking in the silence and our last moments together because the world demanded more of us.
And how now, as we walked, the trees bent towards us like long-lost friends, their leaves caressing my face.
My heart ached as I looked up and smiled at the nimids, as I had been away from the forest for too long, Sorrel's winter upkeep demanding most of my attention.
I had missed the nimids and the friendliness and familiarity forged between us over the years.
And while the forest continued to grow, the roots still protruded in a familiar pattern, their limbs crisscrossing over one another, making it easy for me to remember where I needed to lift my skirts to not to trip as I walked.
Malik placed a hand at the small of my back as I stepped over a creek that wound through the forest, steadying me the same as he did all those years ago, the warmth of his hand searing through the fabric all the way down to my skin.
My hand tightened where it held my skirts, a shuddering breath escaping me as I walked quicker, putting distance between us.
His hand left as quickly as it had appeared, now clutched in a fist at his side.
My eyes flicked up to his face, only to find him looking quickly away, his jaw ticking with tension.
"I'm sure it doesn't compare to the rest of Yllsora," I responded, turning my attention back to the forest around us.
This grouping of nimids led us to a ledge that overlooked the expanse of the forest, all the way down to Rida. We stopped there, the branches undulating above, taking in the view, our journey laid out before us.
"I was only in Uscal," Malik responded, the definitive statement echoing between us.
My eyes whipped to him at his words. I felt a million different emotions in that moment, confusion the most prominent of them all.
"Uscal is just over the sea," I stated.
"It is," he answered, not looking in my direction.