Chapter 4
Itry to open my eyes and immediately regret it.
Well…I try to. The light is blinding after spending so long in all that nothing, and my eyelids feel like they’ve been glued shut. I blink hard, once, twice, three times, but it’s like staring directly into a spotlight. Everything is white.
I groan again because there’s a knot on the back of my head the size of a golf ball. Whatever yanked me here was not considerate enough to factor in a soft landing. I reach back and touch it, wincing. Great. Fantastic. A concussion to go with my cosmic dislocation.
But then I notice something.
Grass. Under my fingers. Real. Solid. Not another illusion.
I reach out to the tree beside me and press my palm against the bark. I feel the texture, every ridge and groove biting into my skin.
I take a deep breath. The air fills my lungs with the scent of flowers, earth, growing things.
I almost cry.
I’m back. I’m actually physically back.
Thank the goddess. Thank whoever runs this messed-up cosmic operation, because I did not want to spend another second floating in that void.
I scramble to my feet so fast I nearly fall right back down, brushing dirt and leaves from my clothes. Then I stop and look down.
Same stupid outfit. Mud-caked pants. The same torn shirt, someone’s dried blood stiff along the sleeve.
I’ve been scattered across time and space, and the universe couldn’t even throw me a wardrobe change. Not even a clean pair of socks.
“Kaelren!” I shout, spinning around. Nothing but trees. Thick ones, old ones, the kind that have been here a long time. “Kaelren!”
No answer. No broody, dark-haired man emerging from the underbrush. No Peeble buzzing into my face with a snarky comment. Just birds, wind, and the sound of my voice bouncing off bark.
I wait a beat. Two. Nothing.
I have a moment of panic before realization hits.
Okay. Fine. He pulled me out of the void, then apparently dropped me in the wrong spot. That tracks.
I start walking, picking a direction at random. No landmarks. No plan.
After about thirty minutes of pushing through brush, dodging low-hanging branches, I reach the edge of the tree line and stop dead.
I know this village.
It’s Vyn Hollow. I recognize the layout: the clustered huts in the canopy, the rope bridges strung between the massive trees, the way the whole settlement is built up and around the forest instead of through it.
But something is off. The paths look less worn. Some of the bridges are missing. The buildings are smaller, rougher, like a version of the town that hasn’t finished growing yet.
Strange. But maybe things just changed while I was away. I don’t know how long I was floating in that void. Could’ve been weeks. Months. Maybe they remodeled.
I walk down into the village to find the Sage, or anyone who can tell me what’s going on.
I pass a few small shops and canopy cafés and immediately notice the stares.
People stop what they’re doing to watch me.
People here are weird. The clothing differs from what I remember, older, maybe.
More layered, more patchwork. I guess I was too busy training last time to notice the local fashion, but this is definitely its own vibe. Like something out of a history book.
A mother with twig-thin limbs pulls her child to her side as if I’m something dangerous.
I mean, I know I look rough. But I just saved their entire realm. A little gratitude would be nice.
I find a tavern and push inside. It’s small, dim, smells like something fermented mixed with wet wood.
I sit at the bar and order a glass of mead. I figure I’ve earned at least that after being dead, or whatever I was, for however long.
The tavern is surprisingly busy for this time of day. A group plays music in the corner. Some song I’ve definitely never heard before.
The bartender sets it down in front of me without a word, eyeing me like I might start a fire.
“Just curious,” I say, taking a sip. “Have you seen a six-foot-four, dark-haired, broody asshole around here? Might have a bee or a beetle with him?”
The bartender looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “We don’t have anyone like that here.”
Cool. So Kaelren pulled me back to the wrong village. Typical. I take another drink and look around while the bartender grunts and disappears behind the bar.
I’m about to order another mead when a massive commotion erupts outside.
The tavern doors burst open, and an angry mob pours in.
And when I say mob, I mean a full-on pitchfork-wielding, torch-adjacent, somebody-is-in-deep-shit mob.
There’s at least twenty of them crammed in the doorway, and they are pissed.
I notice some carry long swords, while a few have something less refined, more like a hatchet.
I’m sitting there thinking whew, someone’s having a worse day than me, when one of them, a guy with a pair of shiny wings, points directly at me and screams, “There she is! The red-haired harlot!”
Um, excuse me?
I know they are not talking about me. I mean, a little respect would be nice, seeing as I’ve been stuck in literal nothingness because I saved their realm. Harlot? Really? At least go with something more creative.
I set my mead down and hold up my hands. Diplomacy. Kaelren would want me to try diplomacy. If we’re going to rule this place, I need to learn to handle situations like a leader. Although this is exactly the kind of situation Kaelren would glare his way through.
“Listen here, fellas…err, creature thingies.” Not my best opening. “I’m sure whatever is happening is all a big misunderstanding. If we can just find Kaelren, I’m sure everything will be fine. I know things are a little shaky after the destruction of the Bloom—”
I barely get the last word out before they erupt.
“She intends to harm the Bloom! The Bloom Regent was right; we have to stop her! We must protect the Bloom!”
Then there’s a collective roar as they surge forward.
Oh, hell no. I did not just claw my way back to Wynmire to get captured by an angry mob.
I dart off the stool and move to the side of the tavern, scanning for an exit. A particularly burly man sits near a back door.
“Sorry about this!”
I whip my vines around his chair legs and yank him backward. His large body, the overturned chair, a wall of tangled furniture between me and the mob.
I bolt out the side door and sprint down a back alley. I take the first corner hard, nearly slamming face-first into another group of them. We all freeze, startled. One second. That’s all I need.
Vines snap around the closest two. I haul myself onto a roof and start running.
Some of these huts are close enough to jump; others I have to bridge with vines. I scramble up a ladder into someone’s home, and a mother screams as I sprint through her living space.
“Sorry for the intrusion, you never saw me!” I yell over my shoulder before diving out the other side into the trees.
I take the most congested bridges I can find, the ones barely wide enough for one person. If it slows me down, it will slow a group of twenty a lot more. I hear them behind me, shouting, crashing, making enough noise to wake every creature in the Wyrmwood.
Finally, I reach the edge of the village and spot a bee saddled, tied to a post. Not Kevin. Too small. Wrong coloring. But beggars can’t be choosers.
“Sorry, buddy,” I say, untying the reins. “You obviously aren’t Kevin, but you and I need to go on a little adventure.”
They hesitate at first, buzzing nervously. Apparently, they don’t appreciate being chased by pitchforks any more than I do. They let out an urgent buzz, then take off.
Suddenly we’re airborne, dodging in and out of the Wyrmwood canopy. I experience a few minutes of vertigo before my body adjusts. I take one last glance back, watching the mob fade into the distance.
We fly for an hour before I feel safe enough to slow down.
The forest below looks familiar. I’ve been through this area before, but like Vyn Hollow, it’s different.
The forest looks wilder than I remember.
The paths that were worn and well-traveled when I was here last haven’t formed yet.
The undergrowth is thicker; the trails nonexistent.
We settle in a dense pack of trees, and I slide off the bee’s back, legs shaking.
What the hell happened while I was away?
I thought everyone was happy about the Bloom being destroyed. And they mentioned a regent. What regent? Are they talking about Kaelren? He wouldn’t let things get this bad. He’s broody and difficult, but he’s not the type to let his people form actual pitchfork militias.
I need to find him before I end up skewered and served at the local village feast. I wasn’t expecting a butter sculpture of myself like they did for the Founding Fathers at the farm show, but I at least expected a smile. Maybe a friendly hello.
I kneel beside a stream and wash my face, scrubbing away dirt and sweat with cupped hands. The water is ice-cold. It feels incredible.
I grow a soft, broad leaf, then use it to wipe down my hands and pants as best I can. Not a shower, but better than nothing.
I turn back to the bee, who’s watching me from a safe distance with an expression that can only be described as deeply uncertain.
“Thanks, friend. I’m sorry I scared you. Have you seen Kevin?”
They buzz and give me a look of pure confusion.
I sigh. “Right. Worth a try. Listen, go on back to your home. Your owners are probably waiting for you.”
They look at me like they’re afraid to leave the red-haired lunatic alone for fear she’ll burn down the entire forest. But they don’t budge.
“Go on now.” I slap their hind end like I’ve done to horses back home. They take off, leaving me alone with my thoughts and no plan.
I walk for a few minutes, trying to get my bearings, when I hear a scream.
I don’t think. I just run. Kaelren would be proud.
I jump over two logs, cross a stretch of mossy stones without falling on my face. Not even a stumble.