Page 25 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams (Fated to the Sun and Stars #3)

Leon

T he trees creak and moan above us as we travel through the Miravow, leaves rustling in an invisible wind. Try as I might, I can’t shake the feeling we’re being watched. Judged, even.

“Is this normal?” I ask the nursemaid, keeping one eye on her and another on Ana.

If danger is on its way, I need to make sure she’s safe.

It helps that I’ve been able to sense her state of mind better than ever in recent days.

I should be worried, I suppose. It means the sawlamoor’s taking root, but if it allows me to know every time she’s anxious or afraid, I can’t help but be grateful for it.

“I was away from Agathyre for many years,” Etusca replies. “But this is the most agitated I’ve seen them.” She looks nervously at the trees looming above us.

“They don’t like us being here,” I say. “Is it just because we aren’t dryads?”

“More or less. It’s not that the Miravow dislikes humans or fae, but rather that it’s wary of you—it knows you’re not our kind.

We dryads grew up on the same star-touched earth that these trees did; the same magic that gives the Miravow its power flows through our veins.

The absence of that magic in your blood has put the forest on its guard—it sees you as intruders.

The mixed-blood person you brought with you is probably only disturbing it further. The forest is confused. ”

“That person has a name,” Mal snaps.

“Ignore her, Mal,” Tira tuts. “She’s talking about these plants as if they can think and feel like people.”

“You think this is coincidence?” Etusca asks incredulously, gesturing to the angry noises echoing down from the canopy.

“I think that the star fall thousands of years ago made this place magical and powerful,” Tira says. “But that doesn’t mean a forest gets to decide who’s good or bad.”

“I didn’t say anything about good or bad, Tira,” Etusca says sharply. “And I wouldn’t presume to. I have no place passing moral judgment on anyone. I’m simply stating a fact.”

As she speaks, the dryad looks toward Ana, and I know she’s thinking of the rift between them. Ana doesn’t look at her, but I sense a wave of sadness rolling off her and through me.

“Whatever the reason, we’ve clearly disturbed the peace of this place,” I say to the others. “We should stay alert.”

“He’ll help,” Etusca says, nodding to Dots trotting up ahead. We removed the glamour on him once we properly passed into the Miravow, and now the animal’s flicking his four tails happily as he darts around trees and doubles back for us.

“How did he even find you?” Etusca asks. She directs the question at me, probably figuring I’m the one most likely to answer. It’s a little strange being considered the approachable one—it’s not a problem I’ve ever had before.

“He’d been captured and taken to Filusia by unscrupulous fae,” I say, thinking darkly of my grandfather. “Ana healed him and bargained to get him set free. Since then, he’s stuck by her side.”

Etusca’s eyes widen, and she looks to Ana. “Healed him? But how?”

“Turns out there’s a lot you don’t know about the magic you hid from me all my life,” Ana says bluntly, refusing to meet Etusca’s gaze.

Pain passes over the dryad’s face, but rather than responding, she focuses again on the fox .

“To win the loyalty of a korigos is a very special thing. If there’s a safe route for us through the Miravow, he will guide us to it.”

We let Dots take the lead as we ride beneath the restless trees, groaning their warnings to us.

There’s a distant noise of movement through the forest. Sounds of small scurrying animals rustling in the undergrowth and the chirping of birds scattering from branches.

Nothing that seems to present a danger to us—yet.

The magic of the Miravow has given rise to a whole host of unusual animals, some of which are incredibly dangerous.

I heed my own advice and keep my eyes peeled.

More than once, I catch the flicker of movement at the corner of my vision, only to turn and see a tree root lying still and innocent against the mossy earth.

Eventually, the sun’s light fades from the leaves, and the forest is blanketed in purple as dusk falls.

“Were we planning on stopping for the night?” Alastor asks eventually. “Creepy trees or not, I’m afraid I’ll fall off my horse if I don’t sleep soon.”

“We all will,” I say, looking around at the group. The constant watchfulness has worn on them. I can see it written on their faces, especially Ana. She’s had to deal with the reunion with Etusca on top of everything else, and I know—can feel —how that hasn’t been easy for her.

We find a clearing that comfortably fits us all. One side is formed by the huge roots of a tree bending around to create a kind of hollow. As we’re unrolling our bedding, a canine whine sounds in the gloom.

“Dots?” Ana looks around as the korigos pads over to where she sits on the ground. His tails hang down behind him, and he bends his head to tug at her pack with his teeth.

“He doesn’t want us to stop moving,” Ana says, concerned. “Maybe we should keep going.”

I take in the exhaustion on her face and shake my head. She’s not been sleeping well during our journey, with me having to pull her out of her nightmares most nights.

“He’s right that stopping is dangerous, but so is trying to stay alert on no sleep.” I bend down, taking her hand. “We’ll take watches, and I won’t let anything happen to you. ”

She bites her lip but reaches out to Dots, scratching behind his ears and making soothing noises.

“Settle down, Dots,” she coos, and though the animal lets out another whine, he begins to arrange himself on the ground. Tucking his tails beneath him, he reluctantly lays his head on his paws, watching Ana.

“See?” I say. “If there was any serious danger, he wouldn’t have given in so easily.”

Reassured, Ana climbs onto her bed roll as the group discusses the order for the watch.

I agree to take the first hour, and when I’ve finished my time listening to the creak and rustle of the forest, I wake Mal to take over.

Then I find a spot beside Ana, breathing in her jasmine scent as I close my eyes and try to sleep.

It’s only focusing on that smell, and the soft sigh of her breathing, that I manage to eventually drift off.

I’m woken by a woman screaming.

Ana . That’s the immediate thought that jolts through me, panic flaring. But no—she’s beside me, waking with a gasp at the sound just as I did. The scream mingles with a deep, angry noise, like a lowing beast. I look up to see Tira on her hands and knees at the base of the tree.

The roots have moved, raised up to reveal a dark space beneath the giant trunk. Tira lifts her head, eyes wide with panic. She screams again as she’s jerked backward, toward the gap.

“It’s got her legs!” Mal shouts, spotting the thick root wrapped around her ankles just as I do.

It’s like the tree is trying to swallow her up.

But no sooner has Mal spoken than a shower of splinters flies past Tira with an explosive crash.

She frantically scrambles across the ground, away from the tree, revealing one of the roots lying in smithereens behind her.

“Good work,” Alastor congratulates her on her geostri magic, but another root shoots out from beneath the tree and coils itself around Tira’s waist.

She explodes the wood again, shattering it into a thousand pieces, but flecks of blood splatter across the ground as the splinters catch her stomach. There’s already another root tendril snaking toward her, from a neighboring tree this time.

“Don’t use your sword,” Ana says to me, though the thought had only just flashed through my mind to draw it.

“She’s only making it angrier!” Etusca shouts. She’s right. For every root Tira explodes, there’s another darting toward her, and the branches above us shake and moan with rage.

“Use your geostri power,” Ana cries to me. “Move the earth rather than attacking the roots.”

I plunge my power into the rich, dense soil, instantly feeling the vast pulsing network of magic beneath the forest. It’s like every grain of dirt is alive, fizzing with energy.

I part the earth, shifting soil to open a hole beneath the nearest tree, drawing the dirt away from its roots. I do the same to the others, and the response is immediate. The roots trying to claim Tira stop, retreating from the pit I’m creating just as Tira starts to sink into it.

“Grab onto one!” I instruct her, and Tira leaps on a fleeing root, using it to pull her out of the pit, where the others wait to grab her.

As soon as she’s free, I release my hold on the earth, letting it move back together.

The trees, clearly startled by the sudden shift of the ground beneath them, bury their roots deep into the earth defensively.

They continue to creak angrily, but their bases go still.

“ Fela estwe ralim costatius ,” Etusca mutters frantically beneath her breath, approaching the nearest tree to lay her hands upon it. “ Salva em prolea, prolea de. ”

“She’s praying,” Ana explains as she goes to Tira, checking her friend’s injuries. “She’s trying to calm them.”

It seems to work, as the creaking above us lessens. Etusca falls silent, still holding her hands to the tree for a few moments, until she turns to fix her gaze on Tira. Her eyes are bright with fury.

“What did you do?” she demands.

“Hey, that’s not fair.” Ana immediately jumps to her friend’s defense. “We don’t know that?— ”

“I’m sorry!” Tira interrupts, breaking free from Ana’s arms to grab her pack. She pulls out a handful of sticks and throws them to the ground. “I was on watch and noticed them just lying there. They’d already fallen off the trees, I swear!”

“Whatever possessed you to do such a thing?” Etusca demands.

Tira’s devastated, tears running tracks through the smears of dirt on her face.

“I thought they’d make powerful arrows. Because the forest is so magical.”

“Stupid, foolish pestilixe ,” Etusca spits, and I don’t need to speak Agathyrian to recognize a curse when I hear one. “Not only did you take something from the forest without permission, but you intended to use it to make a weapon . That’s why the Miravow reacted so strongly.”

Tira hangs her head in shame, prompting Ana to go to her once more, pulling her into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” Tira sobs again.

“Shh. It’s okay,” Ana says. “We all make mistakes.”

“That may be,” Etusca says, her voice softening a little as she calms down. “But we can’t afford any more mistakes like that.” She looks around her nervously. “There’ll be no more camping out here. The Miravow has a grudge against us now, and it won’t let it go tonight. We must keep moving.”

“Wait,” Tira says as we start gathering up our scattered packs and bed rolls. She turns to Etusca. “What if I could undo some of the damage? Would that help?”

“It might,” Etusca concedes. “You can only try.”

Tira nods and carefully gathers up the sticks, moving toward the nearest tree. She hesitates as the branches once more shudder above us, and I’m hit by a wave of apprehension that’s not my own. I take Ana’s hand.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be okay,” I say. She nods, but still doesn’t look certain. Etusca starts praying again.

Tira kneels down beside the spot where she destroyed one of the roots, the jagged stump lying there like an amputated limb beside its other broken half.

Tira lays the sticks in between the two, using her hands to hold them against the broken pieces of wood.

The wood writhes between her fists, and when she lifts them away, the sticks have taken on the shape of the roots, fusing the two sections together.

The trees still their branches, the groans and creaks dying away.

“Well done,” Etusca says as Tira rises, her face shining with approval. “You used your power to heal, and the Miravow values that above all.”

Tira looks relieved more than pleased with herself, and doesn’t linger by the trees, even if they have fallen silent.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Ana says when Tira’s back by her side.

Tira offers her a tight smile. “I discovered it while I was training with the Hand. There were parts of my magic I’ve been overlooking.”

Ana smiles, proud of her friend. But I can feel the underlying sadness too—a hint of jealousy perhaps. Not so long ago, Ana was discovering the unprecedented things she could do with her power, and that’s lost to her right now.

But only temporarily . I don’t say the words out loud, but as I help Ana back up onto her horse, I will her to feel the hope I do—the certainty that we will fix this.

Mal works some of his magic on Tira’s cuts as Etusca looks on, both curious and unsure about the half-dryad’s abilities, and then we’re ready to set off again.

Tira may have made amends with the plants, but that doesn’t mean we’re safe.

As we ride deeper into the Miravow, there’s an unmistakable growl that carries through the undergrowth.

Whatever it is, it’s a still a way off, but we exchange silent looks of warning.

The trees are far from the only dangerous thing in this forest.