Chương 127: CHAPTER 21 - A Mentor Beyond Death- Part I

The following morning, I wait until everyone has gathered beneath the Silverwood before speaking, though even after deciding that they all deserve to know about Vael, I find myself struggling to determine where exactly I am supposed to begin.

Aibell stands closest to me with Aine beside her, while Eammon has positioned himself a little ahead of the others, his attention divided between me and the enormous Silverwood rising above us as though he still expects the mysterious presence within the Grove to reveal itself at any moment.

Ciara and Merrow stand together a short distance away, their expressions carrying the same quiet curiosity they have worn since yesterday, while Garrick, Lorcan and Elyrion remain somewhat apart from the rest, not because they have been excluded from the conversation but because they already know what I am about to say.

They had stood beside me when Vael revealed himself, had listened while I struggled to understand how the man, I believed dead could still exist within the Grove, and their presence now makes the task before me slightly easier, even if explaining the truth to everyone else remains no less strange.

"The spirit you saw yesterday has a name," I say, and the conversations around me gradually fade as everyone turns their attention toward me.

"His name is Vael." Aibell's expression changes slightly at the seriousness in my voice, while Ciara watches me with quiet patience, perhaps already sensing that there is more behind the name than the others understand. I let my gaze drift briefly toward the Silverwood before continuing, aware of Vael's presence somewhere within the vast network of mana and roots surrounding me.

"He was my mentor," I tell them.

"Before I came to Fallowspire, I belonged to the Elarion Circle, and Vael was the one who led it." Merrow's eyes narrow slightly as she remembers.

"The Circle you came from?" I nod, and although she does not immediately continue, I know what she is thinking because the same question appears in Aibell's expression. They know what happened to Elarion. They know enough of my past to understand that the Circle was destroyed long before I arrived here, and for several moments, the realization hangs silently between us until Aibell finally asks the question none of them have yet spoken aloud.

"But if he was there when the Circle was destroyed, then how can he be here?"

"He died," I answer, allowing the words to settle before continuing because there is no point avoiding them.

"Vael died when Elarion fell, but before that happened, he placed a part of himself within the Silverwood sapling before giving it to me. I didn't know what he had done. I carried the sapling with me, planted it here and helped it grow without ever realizing that some part of him had remained within it." Aine stares upward at the Silverwood with widened eyes, her small hand tightening around Aibell's fingers.

"So there really was a ghost in the Grove?" The question is asked with such absolute seriousness that I almost smile.

"Yes, Aine. There really was."

"I knew it." Eammon immediately turns toward her, his expression carrying the same disbelief I have seen whenever his sister decides to rewrite the past in her favor.

"You didn't know it was a ghost."

"I knew something was there."

"You said someone was hiding."

"I changed my mind." A quiet laugh escapes Garrick, and when I glance toward him, he immediately raises both hands as though he has done nothing wrong.

"I'm staying out of this one."

"You should." That only earns another faint smile from him, while the children return their attention to the Silverwood, their previous argument apparently forgotten now that they have something far more interesting to consider. Aibell remains quiet for a few moments before her curiosity eventually overcomes her hesitation.

"Can he hear us?" Before I can answer, Vael's voice reaches me through the Grove, "Yes." I feel the faintest trace of amusement accompanying the single word and look toward the Silverwood, an action that immediately draws Aibell's attention.

"What?" she asks.

"He says he can." Her eyes widen.

"He said that just now?"

"To me." Aine immediately steps away from Aibell and approaches the Silverwood, craning her neck as she looks upward through the branches.

"Hello, Vael." For a few moments, she waits expectantly, and when nothing happens, she slowly turns back toward me.

"Did he hear me?" I feel Vael's amusement again before his voice reaches me.

"Yes."

"He heard you."

"Then why didn't he answer?"

"He can't speak to you directly, not for long anyway." Aine frowns at that, apparently finding the arrangement deeply unsatisfactory.

"Then tell him I said hello." I glance toward the tree, and Vael's voice reaches me almost immediately.

"Hello, Aine." I relay the words, and her expression brightens so quickly that I have to look away before she notices the smile forming on my face. Eammon, however, seems less interested in exchanging greetings and more concerned with discovering everything possible about the spirit living somewhere within the Grove.

"Can he see us?"

"I don't know."

"Can he walk?"

"No."

"Can he fight?"

"No."

"Can he—""Eammon," Ciara says gently, though there is enough amusement in her voice that I know she is not truly annoyed, "perhaps let Kaelen answer one question before asking the next." Eammon looks momentarily embarrassed, but Merrow takes the opportunity to ask a question of her own, and unlike the children, there is something more cautious behind her curiosity.

"What exactly can he do?" The answer is not as easy as I would like it to be, because I am still trying to understand that myself.

"At the moment, he is a spirit connected to the Grove. He has no physical body, and he can't touch anything or leave this place, but he can communicate with me through my connection to the Grove."

"And that's all?"

"I think so. Sometimes he can appear as an apparition, for sometime though and he may be able to speak out loud for sometime before needing to rest again." Merrow's gaze shifts toward the Silverwood before returning to me.

"You think so?"

"I've only known he was here for a day." That earns the smallest hint of a smile from her, though the caution remains.

"Can he harm anyone?"

"No." The answer comes quickly enough that she notices.

"You asked him?"

"Of course not, he is my master, I know him." Merrow's expression relaxes slightly, while Garrick gives a quiet nod beside me.

"He asked many questions yesterday, most of those that mattered." Aibell turns toward him.

"You three were there?" Lorcan answers before Garrick can.

"We were." His gaze travels toward the Silverwood, his expression thoughtful.

"The spirit revealed himself while we were with Kaelen, although I doubt any of us understood what was happening until afterward." Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. Elyrion remains silent for a moment before adding, "I am still not certain I understand it completely."

"Neither am I," I admit. That seems to reassure Aibell somewhat, perhaps because she has finally realized that the four of us standing beneath the tree do not possess some secret understanding that everyone else has been excluded from. The truth is considerably simpler. Vael's existence is as strange to me as it is to them, and although I have learned more about how he survived since yesterday, there are still too many things I do not understand.

Ciara watches me quietly throughout the conversation, and when the others begin discussing Vael among themselves, she eventually asks the question that none of them have thought to ask.

"What does this mean for you?" The words make me pause. For the others, Vael is a spirit who has unexpectedly appeared within their home. He is a mystery, perhaps even something extraordinary, but for me, he is something else entirely. He is the man who taught me how to become a druid. He is the one who had corrected me when I failed, pushed me when I became complacent and somehow managed to know exactly when I needed encouragement even when he refused to make a habit of offering it.

I had watched him lead the Elarion Circle for most of my life, and when the Circle fell, I had believed that I lost him along with everything else. Now he is here.

"It changes more than I know how to explain," I finally say, and Ciara's expression softens because she does not need anything more from me. Garrick steps closer and rests a hand briefly against my shoulder.

"Then I think we're glad he's here." I turn toward him, and for a moment, the simple sincerity in his voice makes it difficult to answer. Garrick understands better than most what the Elarion Circle meant to me, because he had seen what remained after I lost it, even after many years had already passed, and although he had never known Vael himself, he knows enough to understand what his return means. Aibell looks toward the Silverwood again before turning back to me.

"So, he is staying?"

"Yes." The answer comes easily.

"This is his home now as much as it is ours." I do not know whether that is entirely true in the way I mean it, because Vael's connection to the Grove is unlike anything I have encountered before, but when I look around at everyone gathered beneath the Silverwood, I realize that I do not want to make his presence something separate from the rest of the Grove. He is part of it. The people standing here are part of it. In different ways, all of us have become connected to this place.

The thought seems to settle naturally among them, and after that, the conversation gradually loses some of its earlier tension. Eammon continues asking questions, though at a slower pace now that Ciara has reminded him not to overwhelm everyone around him, while Aine remains determined to speak to Vael through me whenever she thinks of something important enough to say.

Lorcan and Elyrion discuss the nature of Vael's connection to the Grove, neither of them attempting to claim certainty where none exists, while Merrow listens carefully whenever the conversation turns toward whether his presence could affect the mana surrounding the Silverwood. I answer whatever I can, and when I cannot, I simply say so. Eventually, however, the morning begins pulling everyone toward their usual responsibilities.

Ciara gathers the children, though Aine repeatedly looks back toward the Silverwood as though she is reluctant to leave without receiving a proper farewell from the spirit she had spent the previous day searching for. Eammon follows more willingly, although not before informing me that he intends to ask more questions later, while Merrow leaves with them after giving the Grove one last thoughtful glance. Aibell lingers longer than the others, her gaze fixed upon the massive trunk of the Silverwood.

"You know," she says eventually, "when you told us there was a ghost in the Grove, I didn't expect him to be your dead mentor."

"I didn't expect that either." She smiles at my answer.

"I suppose that makes it fair."

"How?"

"I don't know." I stare at her. Aibell laughs softly before stepping closer and placing her palm against the Silverwood's trunk.

"Tell him I'm going to have questions for him eventually."

"I'll warn him."

"You should." She finally turns away, though the amusement remains in her expression as she follows the others toward the house. Lorcan and Elyrion leave shortly afterward, their conversation continuing quietly as they disappear between the trees, and Garrick remains beside me for a few moments longer.

Neither of us says anything immediately, because there is no need to force words into the silence, and when he finally looks toward me, his expression is considerably more serious than it had been throughout the rest of the morning.

"You alright?" I consider the question.

"I think so." His eyebrow rises.

"That's a very convincing answer."

"It's the best one I have." For a moment, he simply studies me before shaking his head with a faint smile.

"Then we'll go with that." He squeezes my shoulder once before turning away, and I watch him disappear beneath the branches until the Grove gradually grows quiet around me. The silence does not feel empty. I can still hear the distant voices of the others moving toward the house, while the trees whisper softly overhead and mana flows through the ground beneath my feet with the same familiar rhythm I have felt countless times before. Yet now, somewhere within that living network, another presence remains awake.

For several moments, I simply stand beneath the Silverwood. Then Vael speaks.

"You have gathered quite an unusual group around yourself." I lean back against the trunk.

"They're not a group." There is a brief pause.

"No?"

"They're people."

"I was aware of that." I close my eyes.

"You're already irritating me." A familiar laugh moves through the Grove, and despite myself, I feel some of the tension within me ease. There was a time when I had heard that laughter almost every day, usually after I had done something Vael found foolish or said something he had no intention of letting me forget, and although years have passed since I last heard it, the sound feels strangely unchanged.

"You've done well," Vael says after the laughter fades. I open my eyes.

"What?"

"The Grove." His voice has become more serious now, and I turn my attention toward the trees surrounding us as he continues.

"You kept the Silverwood alive when you were alone and had no one left to guide you. When you performed the ritual that helped it grow, you found the Heartwood seeds hidden beneath this garden and helped them germinate, allowing them to take root beside the Silverwood when they might otherwise have remained dormant. Everything that has happened since then began with that choice." I remain silent.

"The Grove has grown because of you, Kaelen." The words feel unfamiliar coming from him.

"That almost sounded like praise."

"Do not become accustomed to it." A small smile touches my lips.

"There he is." Vael's amusement lingers briefly before fading.

"You have done well," he repeats, and this time there is something more deliberate behind the words.

"But you have done much of it without understanding what you were doing." The smile disappears. I straighten slightly and turn toward the Silverwood.

"That sounded considerably less like praise."

"It was not intended as an insult."

"You have a strange way of showing that."

"You have always been sensitive to criticism."

"I learned from the best." The Grove grows quiet around us for a moment, and although I expect Vael to respond with one of his usual remarks, his next words arrive with a seriousness that makes me listen.

"You have relied almost entirely upon instinct." I remain silent. He is not wrong. Whenever the Grove has changed, I have felt those changes through my connection and followed them as naturally as I would follow my own thoughts. When the Silverwood needed mana, I gave it mana. When the Heartwood seeds responded to the ritual, I helped them awaken. When their roots began spreading through the earth, I followed the connection without stopping to question why the Grove seemed to be pulling me in that direction.

Until now, I had never considered that there might be anything wrong with that.

"Is instinct not part of being a druid?" I ask.

"It is." The answer comes without hesitation.

"Then what is the problem?"

"The problem is not that you follow your instincts, Kaelen. The problem is that you have allowed instinct to become your only understanding." I turn my gaze toward the trees. The words settle more heavily than I expect.

"You feel the Grove," Vael continues.

"You know when something within it is changing, and you can sense when it requires something from you, but feeling something is not the same as understanding it. You have listened to the Grove, yet you have rarely stopped to ask why it is speaking." I think about that. The Silverwood; the Heartwoods; the roots beneath Fallowspire; the ritual that changed the Grove only days ago. I had felt every one of those things. I had responded to them. But I had never truly understood them.

"The Grove is larger now," Vael says, his voice moving gently through my connection with it.

"Its roots have spread beyond the boundaries of this garden, and its mana has begun moving through Fallowspire in ways you have sensed but never studied. There are connections forming beneath the city that you do not yet understand, and as the Grove continues to grow, those connections will only become more complicated." I remain quiet as my gaze drifts toward the walls surrounding the garden.

"Instinct has carried you this far," Vael continues, "and your instincts have served you well. I would not deny that. But if you intend to continue protecting this Grove, you must eventually know what you are protecting. You must understand how it grows, how its mana moves and what the changes within it truly mean, because there will come a time when simply doing what feels right may not be enough." The words linger between us.

I look down at the ground beneath my feet, aware of the vast root system moving somewhere below the soil, connecting the trees surrounding me in ways I can sense but cannot fully explain. For all the confidence I have gained since arriving in Fallowspire, there is an uncomfortable truth in what Vael says. I have survived by trusting myself to find the answer when one was needed, but the Grove is no longer the small collection of trees I once planted within an abandoned garden. It is becoming something larger.

And perhaps I am as well.

"What do I need to do?" I ask eventually. For several moments, Vael does not answer, and I find myself remembering the way he used to allow silence to stretch after a question, forcing me to consider whether I had truly asked the right one before he finally spoke. When his voice reaches me again, I can hear that same familiar patience within it.

"You begin learning again." I remain beneath the Silverwood, listening to the leaves shifting gently overhead as the meaning of those words settles within me. Vael cannot stand beside me as he once did, cannot demonstrate a ritual or guide my hands through the flow of mana, and if I make a mistake, there may be nothing he can do except tell me that I am about to make one. Yet he is here. For the first time since Elarion fell, I am no longer entirely alone in trying to understand what it means to be a druid.

A slow breath leaves me.

"Then teach me." Vael is quiet for a moment, and when he finally answers, I can feel something that resembles satisfaction through the Grove.

"Good." I wait. Nothing else follows.

"That's it?"

"For now." I shake my head, though I cannot stop the faint smile from returning to my face.

"You really haven't changed." The laughter that follows moves softly through the trees around me, and as I stand beneath the Silverwood listening to the voice of the man I had mourned for years, I realize that this time, when the silence returns, it does not feel as though the conversation has ended. It feels as though something has only just begun.