Chương 98: Chapter 6: The Grove Remembers- Part I

The Silverwood parts as quietly as it had closed. Morning sunlight spills into the chamber, washing away the soft emerald glow that has surrounded us for what feels like both minutes and hours. I have no idea how much time has passed beyond the tree. Within the Grove, time has always seemed to move according to its own patient rhythm. Garrick and I step through the opening together. The living bark folds seamlessly behind us until no trace of the hidden passage remains. For a moment neither of us speaks.

The Grove feels familiar again. The strange expectancy that had settled beneath the Silverwood before we entered has vanished. The bond resting quietly within me no longer carries the distant feeling of occupied attention. Instead, it settles around my thoughts with the same calm reassurance I have come to associate with home. Its work is finished. A soft gasp breaks the silence. I turn toward the sound. Lorcan stands several paces away, a basket of freshly gathered herbs hanging forgotten at his side.

His eyes move rapidly between Garrick and me before settling upon the Silverwood behind us.

"You were gone." I blink.

"What do you mean?"

"You walked into the tree." He points toward the trunk as though afraid I might somehow deny it.

"Then... nothing." His brow furrows.

"You both just stood there." Instinctively, I glance toward Garrick. He wears the same puzzled expression I feel upon my own face.

"How long?" I ask. Lorcan hesitates.

"I don't know exactly. Nearly an hour." I stare. An hour? Inside the chamber, it had felt impossible to judge the passing of time. We had spoken. We had waited. The Grove had worked with its endless patience. Yet if Lorcan is right, an entire hour has slipped quietly past.

"I tried calling to you," Lorcan continues.

"Neither of you moved." His voice lowers.

"I thought perhaps I shouldn't interfere."

"You made the right choice." I don't know why I am so certain of that. I simply am. Before Lorcan can ask another question, Garrick slowly lifts his head. His attention drifts beyond us toward the younger trees surrounding the clearing. Looking and listening. A gentle breeze stirs through the Grove, carrying the scent of damp earth and fresh leaves. Garrick smiles. It isn't directed at either of us. It's directed at the forest itself. Lorcan notices.

"So..." He looks between the two of us.

"Did it work?" Garrick answers before I can.

"I think..." His voice remains almost reverent.

"... I've been blind." Lorcan frowns.

"You can see perfectly well."

"I know." Garrick kneels beside one of the nearest saplings. Its slender trunk rises no higher than his shoulder, leaves trembling gently in the morning air. He reaches out with surprising hesitation, his fingertips brushing against one broad green leaf. He closes his eyes. For several heartbeats, nothing happens. Then he laughs quietly.

"It's different."

"What is?" Lorcan asks.

"I can't explain it." He opens his eyes again, still resting his hand lightly against the sapling.

"I always thought trees were... still." His fingers trace the edge of a leaf with remarkable care.

"They aren't." He shakes his head slowly.

"They're busy." Lorcan looks at me. I merely smile. Some lessons cannot be taught, only experienced. Garrick rises to his feet, turning slowly as his gaze travels across the Grove. His expression changes with every passing heartbeat. Wonder, curiosity, disbelief. A flock of sparrows erupts from a nearby oak, circling overhead before disappearing toward the outer wall. His head follows them instinctively.

"They're full of mana." The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Lorcan's eyebrows shoot upward.

"You can see that?"

"I don't know if 'see' is the right word." Garrick laughs at himself.

"I don't have words for half of what I'm feeling." Neither did I. When I first touched the Grove, every explanation had felt painfully inadequate. Mana refused to fit within language because it had never belonged there. Lorcan steps closer, unable to hide his excitement.

"So..." He practically bounces on his heels.

"Can you cast a spell?" Garrick gives him an utterly unimpressed look.

"I've been able to sense mana for less than five minutes."

"I was just asking."

"I know." A grin slowly spreads across Garrick's face.

"But if I accidentally turn into a squirrel, I'm blaming Kaelen." Lorcan bursts into laughter. Even I can't suppress a chuckle.

"I don't recall squirrel transformation being part of the process."

"You don't recall any of the process."

"An unfortunate detail." The laughter fades naturally, leaving something quieter in its place. Contentment. I look around the Grove. The Heartwood continues reaching silently beneath the earth. Children's voices drift faintly from somewhere beyond the gardens. The Silverwood stands behind us exactly as it always has. Yet nothing is quite the same. When I first arrived in Fallowspire, I believed I was rebuilding a home.

Standing here beside Garrick, watching him marvel at the life flowing through every tree, I finally understand what the Grove has been trying to teach me all along. It was never rebuilding the past. It was growing something entirely new. Lorcan, on the other hand, refuses to leave Garrick's side. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. If our positions were reversed, I would likely be just as curious.

A man born without the ability to sense mana has, in the span of a single morning, stepped into a world most people never know exists. The temptation to bombard him with questions proves almost irresistible.

"What does the Heartwood feel like? What about the Silverwood? Can you tell where the roots go? Does everything glow for you?" Garrick holds up a hand, laughing despite himself.

"I've only had this for a few minutes." Lorcan nods eagerly.

"Exactly."

"... That doesn't help your argument." Even I struggle not to smile.

"There is one question worth asking," I say. Both of them turn toward me. I gesture toward the nearest flower bed where dozens of tiny white blossoms sway gently beneath the morning breeze.

"What do you feel?" Garrick studies them. For a while, he simply watches. Then he closes his eyes. The change in his expression is almost imperceptible.

"They're..." He frowns.

"No." He kneels beside the flowers instead, resting one hand against the soil.

"They're connected." Lorcan blinks.

"The flowers?"

"Everything." His gaze lifts toward the Silverwood before drifting across the Heartwood saplings scattered throughout the Grove.

"I can't explain how I know."

"You don't have to," I reply quietly.

"I remember." He lets out a slow breath.

"It's like..." Again, he searches for words that refuse to exist.

"... threads." His fingers trace absent patterns through the air.

"I can't see them. But I know they're there. The flowers, the grass, the trees, the Heartwood." He pauses, "... Even you." I raise an eyebrow.

"Me?" Garrick nods slowly.

"When you walked past me earlier..." He studies me with growing fascination.

"... it felt like the Grove moved with you." For a moment, none of us speaks. I had never considered what my own bond might look like to another person capable of sensing mana. Perhaps, the Grove had never intended it to remain mine alone. Lorcan suddenly steps closer.

"Can you feel me?" Garrick turns toward him. He laughs.

"Yes."

"What does it feel like?" Garrick doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he studies Lorcan with surprising concentration.

"You feel..." Another pause.

"... young." Lorcan looks thoroughly offended.

"I'm not twenty."

"Not you." Garrick shakes his head.

"Your mana." Confusion crosses Lorcan's face.

"My mana has an age?"

"I don't think age is the right word." He rubs the back of his neck.

"It's fresh. It moves quickly. It changes." His attention shifts toward me again.

"Yours doesn't. It's deep. Not stronger. Just..." He looks toward the Heartwood.

"... like roots that have been growing for a very long time." I glance down at my own hands. It is a strange thing. To have another person describe something I have carried within me without ever truly seeing. Perhaps this is what the Grove intended. Another witness. Aibell's cheerful voice drifts across the gardens before I see her.

"There you all are!" She jogs toward us carrying a wooden watering can almost half her size, stopping abruptly as she notices the unusual expressions on our faces.

"What happened?" Her eyes move from Lorcan to me finally settling on Garrick.

"You look different." Garrick instinctively glances down at himself.

"I do?"

"I don't know." She tilts her head thoughtfully.

"You just fit." Lorcan groans.

"That's somehow even less helpful than anything Garrick has said." Aibell smiles innocently.

"I tried." Despite myself, I laugh. So does Garrick. Even Lorcan eventually joins in. The sound echoes gently beneath the Silverwood's branches. And somewhere deep within the bond I share with the Grove I feel quiet approval. For the first time in longer than I can remember, the grove is no longer healing. It is becoming a family.