Page 27
Story: The Haven, the Hallow, & the Highborn (Roots of Magic #4)
FIVE AND A HALF RINGS LATER
K ing Caelum rode into Naohm as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the village nestled against the cliffs. Tomorrow was the summer solstice, and the air was thick with magic, vibrant and alive. Fields were blooming, rivers running high with clear water, and a quiet peace radiated from the land itself.
Along his journey from the capital city of Tridus, Caelum noted more shrines appearing in sacred corners of villages, at the roots of ancient oaks, and beside riverbanks. Simple offerings—etherose flowers, carved lightning bolt talismans, little lanterns flickering against the night—had been left for her.
Eada had become a hallow. Worshipped. Revered. A goddess who rivaled all five of the old gods, if you asked Caelum. And it warmed him, the way her presence had spread through the land she’d saved, her spirit lingering in every corner, woven into the lives of those who lived in Eyre.
But Caelum did not want a talisman today; he wanted her .
Blood and bone. Skin on skin. Everywhere, in every way, in every place, like he’d once promised her.
His nerves thrummed like a bowstring drawn taut at the thought of that dream never coming true. He had come back to Naohm every summer solstice, ring after ring, waiting. Hoping. Desperate.
And every time, the day had passed without a glimpse of Eedy.
Doubt gnawed at the edges of his resolve, a voice whispering that perhaps he was the highborn fool she’d called him the last time he’d seen her. That maybe this would be another solstice spent alone beneath the stars, pleading for a woman who would never return to him.
His father’s passing two rings ago had not helped lighten Caelum’s mood. The crown had been pressed into his hands with little ceremony, a weight he had been born to carry but had never wanted. And yet, through every impossible decision that determined the fate of Eyre, he had never truly felt alone.
Whenever uncertainty clawed at him, whenever the burden of duty threatened to break him, he traced his steps back to the ley line he’d once fallen upon, where he’d obtained his own magical healing abilities. He would stand there, in the quiet hum of power, and feel her presence thrumming through it, steady as his own heartbeat.
She had not spoken. She had not appeared. But she had been with him like she’d promised.
Always .
So, even though each summer solstice only brought pain and disappointment, he would keep returning to Naohm like he’d promised. As long as there was still breath in his lungs, he would come.
In the dark hour before dawn, he made his way up the cliffside, toward the tree that marked her resting place. Mannix climbed beside him, determined not to be left behind, his tail wagging in anticipation.
Caelum chuckled as they ascended the final stretch. “You know, she will murder me if you hurt yourself up here, Mannix,” he muttered to the dog, who snuffed in response and bounded ahead. Finally reaching the top, Caelum’s heart hammered in his chest as he stood before the tree.
He waited, breath held, as the first rays of sunlight pierced the sky, bathing the tree in golden light. But nothing stirred. The tree remained closed, silent, unmoving.
His hope faltered, a sharp ache blooming in his chest as the realization sliced through him like a blade. Again, he had waited, prayed, dreamed that it could be this day...for nothing.
He should be grateful for the time he’d had with her, no matter how fleeting. But he wasn’t. He was selfish. He wanted more .
The gnarled bark looked unchanged, the wood rough and cold under his fingers as he placed his palms against it, feeling the steady hum of ancient magic beneath the surface. He pressed his forehead against the hard trunk of the tree.
“Come back to me, Eedy,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I needed more time with you. So much more time.”
His chest felt hollow as he closed his eyes, breathing in the salt and moss coating the bark. A single tear slipped down his cheek but he wiped it away in frustration. It was pointless to cry. He’d provided hundreds of tears as an offering these past five and a half rings, and he’d only been given silence back.
Mannix whimpered, and Caelum opened his eyes to study the dog. “I miss her too, boy.”
Then he felt it: A tremor vibrating against his palm.
His fingers tingled against the bark, and a violent sea breeze raked through his hair. He stepped away as the ground began to tremble, a shudder that rippled through the earth. With his heart in his throat, he watched as the tree shifted, creaking and groaning as the outer walls slowly parted. A mist seeped out, golden and ethereal, swirling to mix with the soft light of dawn.
From the heart of the mist, a figure emerged, graceful and otherworldly, wrapped in a glow that made her seem part of the morning itself.
It was her .
Eedy’s face was familiar, her sharp brown eyes holding the same fierce light, yet there was something more—something timeless. An embodiment of pure magic.
It made him pause, his throat tightening in despair. Worry nagged at the back of his mind at what the magic might have done to her, if it had stripped away everything he loved about her and left her as a hollow shell, like the tree she’d entered. Had his tempest finally emerged only to be just a goddess?
Of course, he still wished to worship her as one, but that wasn’t who he’d fallen in love with first. It was her storm that left him breathless and begging, from the first roll of thunder down to the last sweet drop of rain.
“Eada?” he whispered. He took a step toward her, his legs feeling like he’d been waiting these past rings at sea instead of on dry land. “Do you...remember me?”
A few moments passed where she only stared at Caelum, her brow bent in concentration while the rest of her face remained impassive. The mist had settled, and the surrounding glow she’d arrived with had faded, but still her eyes didn’t light up like they should’ve at the sight of him.
“Caelum,” she said slowly, her mouth forming the word like she was pronouncing it for the first time.
Caelum only nodded, fear strangling the words right out of his throat.
Then Mannix ran toward her and barked, and her eyes grew wide.
Something inside of her snapped, her posture going rigid. Her neutral expression evaporated, and in its place, a scowl so familiar it made Caelum’s heart melt with relief.
“Caelum!” she yelled his name now like thunder across a clearing. “Which part of that supposedly sharp mind of yours thought it was a good idea to let Mannix climb up here with you?”
Caelum took a few tentative steps toward her, his smile growing wider the longer she frowned at him. “What did you expect?” he said smugly. “He’s a Blackthorn. No is not a part of his vocabulary.”
The closer he got to her, the tighter she squinted her eyes at him, her arms crossed stiffly over her chest. “This would not have gone well for you if my dog had died,” she muttered when he was only a foot away.
“So, since he is alive and well,” he said, bringing a hand up to graze her jawline, “can I expect this next part to go very well for me?”
Her eyelids fluttered, and she inclined her head in the slightest toward his touch. But when her eyes met his, there was a distance in them, and it made Caelum pause, holding back his need to wrap her in his arms and never let go.
“How long have I been gone?” she asked, her brow furrowing.
“Five and a half rings,” he said, feeling the weight of every one of them fluttering away in the breeze now that he was near her once more.
A hand flew to her mouth. “That long? It can’t be. You look exactly as I remember you.”
Caelum chuckled, smoothing out his tunic. “I do have a youthful face. Not very helpful when you’re trying to be stern and intimidating as the King of Eyre.”
Her eyes widened. “The king ?”
Caelum nodded, his hands reaching out to ghost along her waist. He could not hold himself back much longer, losing against the magnetic pull he’d always felt around her.
But Eedy threw up a hand against his chest, just like she had in the hollow tree when they’d first kissed, holding him at bay. Her eyes were glassy. “I know what is expected of kings.”
Caelum felt a smirk tug at his lips. He knew exactly what she referring to. “Do you mean if I had to take a queen in your absence?”
She raised her chin. “I would not blame you for it.”
But despite her words, Caelum swore he heard the grumble of thunder in the distance.
He dared to edge closer to her taut form, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur as he leaned forward. “It is expected of me.”
Eedy’s perfect mouth smoothed into a fine line as her fingers curled into his shirt possessively, and Caelum could literally weep knowing that even in this divine state, he could still vex her so.
“But,” he continued, desperate to put them both out of their misery, “how could I settle for just a queen when I’ve already had a goddess?”
A tear glistened at the corner of Eedy’s eye, and her smile grew wide, brimming with a fierceness he had missed so achingly.
At her nod, he closed the distance, pulling her into his arms. When their lips met, it was like coming home. It set his heart ablaze and his lungs breathless. Mannix barked again, circling them as Caelum attempted desperately to relearn the shape of her mouth once more.
Eedy eventually pulled back, her breath ragged. “Caelum,” she said, gripping onto his arms encircling her, “you understand, though, don’t you? Even though I’ve found my way back, I can still only come out on this day, once a ring, when the magic is at its peak.”
He nodded without hesitation, his hands cradling her cheeks, pulling her in to kiss her once more. He nuzzled her face, shuddering at the hardship this would be on his heart. But he also needed her to know...
“To be clear,” he murmured against her lips, “what I wanted was every second, of every minute, of every hour, of every day with you for as long as I breathed. And then, beyond that, if the gods would’ve allowed it.”
She sniffled, a short chuckle escaping as she ran her hands through his golden hair.
“I wanted to wake up each morning to your scowling face,” he continued, “and go to bed each night with you moaning so loud you forgot what you woke up mad about.”
A faint blush rose to her cheeks. Still, he went on. “But if this is all I’m granted, Eada, one day every ring, I will drink every last drop like the parched man I am and be happy with it.”
She kissed him , then, and he swore he’d been engulfed in a raging storm. It was electric, unwavering, unstoppable. He wanted to feel this all over his body, not just his lips.
But when he pushed against her, trying to coax her into the hollow tree with him, she pulled away once more, her lips puffy and deliciously red.
“There’s one more thing,” she said, a sly smile forming.
“Yes, yes, I’ll bring you down to the village to see your mother,” Caelum said hurriedly, gripping at her hips tighter. He felt drunk in her presence, his heart about to burst with need. He tried to compose himself, though, for her. “I’ll allow her fifteen minutes with you,” he said, voice husky, “and then she must leave. Because I will need the rest of the time to do unspeakable things to her daughter.”
Eedy’s laugh rang out, pure and bright, filling the dawn air. To Caelum, it was the most beautiful sound in all of Eyre.
“I’m sure she will be grateful for that generous offer,” she said, “but that’s not it.” Her gaze flickered to the distant horizon, where the first light of day kissed the sea. “While I’ve been inside the tree, I’ve been working on something. A new realm. My own world.”
Caelum’s brow furrowed as he studied her face, confused. “I don’t understand. You’ve been building a whole new... world ?”
“I’ve been weaving it together inside the endless space I go to when I’m within the tree. It’s not finished yet, but when it is, it will be a haven for witches, mages, all magical people—a place where they can feel safe, comforted. A place just like this tree was for me and my father.”
She glanced behind her, taking in the massive tree carved into the highest plateau in Eyre.
“I’m going to call it Misthaven,” she continued, turning back to him. “And I believe I can create a way for you to enter it.”
Caelum’s heart galloped, but he steeled himself, afraid of misinterpreting. “Don’t jest with me, Tempest,” he whispered.
Only moments before, he’d tempered his heart for a life without Eada, albeit one measly day a ring. It wasn’t enough, but he would have made it enough, would’ve squeezed out every last drop of time he’d been granted and lived the rest of the ring in a perpetual state of longing, as long as he always found her again at the end of it.
Eedy cupped his face, her fingers fanning over his cheekbones. “Any hollow tree in Eyre could become a gateway. You could visit me, Caelum. Whenever you want. We may not have much time in this world together”—she ran a delicate thumb along his bottom lip, making him shiver—“but we can have more in another one.”
Caelum stared at her, the weight of her words crashing over him like a tidal wave. His hands squeezed her hips, steadying himself against the whirlwind of emotions. Taking in her bright eyes and wide smile, her excitement infected his blood until he felt his own pulse hammering with a boundless joy.
“It won’t be ready for a while,” she went on, her brows pulling together in worry. “There’s a lot still to do, and I’m still trying to figure it all out, so?—”
“I’m sure it will be perfect,” he interrupted. Touching his forehead to hers, he felt a well of happiness inside of him running over. He pulled her close, still in awe of how perfectly she fit inside of his arms. “You have to know, you must know by now, Eada, that you are my world. Wherever you are is where I’m meant to be.”
And, in all his life, nothing had ever been truer.
THE END