I paced along the edge of the stream, mind spiraling.
After we finished gathering the blood essence, we would have to move on to the next shards, the next essences.
Where would we even begin?
Every plan I formed collapsed before it could take shape.
Stop.
She needs to speak to the trees first.
But how do I help her do that?
Sahora still lay on her back in the grass, staring up at the stars through the canopy.
Her stormhound curled beside her like a silent guardian, a presence of shadow and lightning that refused to leave her side.
Elyon stepped through the treeline, their movements too fluid to be human.
“Did you have a good walk?” I asked. The words tumbled out automatically, even as my thoughts churned for a way, any way, to help Sahora hear what the trees were trying to say.
Elyon tilted their head.
“Why do you ask questions you do not want answers to?”
Their eyes, white and depthless, fixed on me. For a heartbeat, I felt as if I could fall into them forever.
Then they turned to Sahora.
“Skyborn,” they said softly, “you must only sit and listen to hear them speak. They already speak to you.”
Sahora sat up abruptly, her moment of peace snapping like a twig.
“You say that like it’s simple, Elyon. You speak in prophetic songs so often that my mind can barely keep up.”
“Well, the song must be sung,” Elyon murmured, as if it were the simplest truth in the world.
Then they turned back to me.
“The question you wish to ask burns inside you,” they said, their voice lowering, steady as a held breath. “Bright as the life oath you carry.”
They stepped closer, too close, until only inches separated us.
Their gaze, blind yet all-seeing, seemed to reach into me and pull every hidden thought to the surface.
“Your answer already lives within you,” Elyon whispered. “But when the moment comes… will you dare to use it?”
My breath caught. I stumbled back a step.
Sahora was at my side instantly. “What happened?” She asked it like I had been mortally wounded. Her eyes narrowed at Elyon.
“Nothing. Everything’s fine. Just more prophecy talk,” I said, steadying myself.
Elyon chuckled. “We will see what part of the prophecy comes true.”
“No. Tell me this so-called prophecy.” Sahora’s gaze snapped to me. She looked as if she might crack if I did not speak.
“It is about a question I keep asking,” I managed. “One I haven’t voiced.”
“What’s the question?” Her voice tightened, braced for the worst.
“If I… if I will break my oath for you.”
“I thought your oath was already broken.”
“I would need to break the rules of life but heal the unhealable.”
She stared at me, stormhound shifting at her feet, breath caught between fear and hope.
“What’s your answer?” she asked.