9 - A Woman's Heart - Part Two

Thunder Oak loomed ahead, an ancient sentinel that had watched over this forest for centuries. Its presence wasn't just physical. It pressed down on you, a weight you couldn't shake. The air around it crackled with the remnants of old magic, sharp and metallic, like the tang of blood after you've bitten your lip. Even the light seemed afraid to come too close, slipping through the gaps in its bluish-green leaves, casting strange, flickering shadows across the path.

"Still makes my teeth ache," Alira muttered, working her jaw as we passed beneath its gnarled crown.

I allowed myself a grin. "You were the fool who tried to climb it."

"Only because you dared me to." She rubbed her palm where the bark had burned her once. "That cursed thing made my hair stand for three days. I looked like a wild cat."

“You still look like a wild cat to me.”

Eliza's laughter cut through the tree's oppressive weight, bright as silver bells. Where we felt the oak's ancient hunger, she saw only wonder. Her eyes gleamed as she studied the lightning scars. "Seven strikes, and it begs for more. What manner of tree courts such violence?"

The reverence in her voice twisted something in my chest. I glanced at my forearm where dream-lightning had once danced beneath my skin, and found strange comfort in the memory.

We left the main path, the Thunder Oak's malevolence fading as we entered deeper woods. Here, the air breathed easier, though morning mist still clung to the hoop pines like ghosts reluctant to depart. The ground squelched beneath our boots, soft from the night's rain.

A mushroom caught my eye. Deep purple, glowing faintly in the weak sunlight. Its cap gleamed with moisture that seemed to drink light rather than reflect it.

"That one caught your eyes, didn’t it?" Eliza observed, stepping closer.

"What’s this one? Looks poisonous enough." I kept my voice low, casual.

She brushed past me, carrying her scent of wild herbs. Always that smell, as if she carried the forest's heart wherever she walked. Kneeling, she plucked the mushroom with gentle fingers. Its soft glow died instantly, leaving only dull violet.

"Duskshade," she said, turning it in her palm. "For night vision potions. Grows where magic pools in shadow."

I wasn't listening, not truly. Her words reached me, but my attention was fixed on something else entirely. The way her presence stirred things, I'd rather leave sleeping. Eliza had always been patient, kind and loving. But lately there was weight behind her gaze, a warmth that unsettled me in ways I refused to name.

"Come on, you two!" Alira's voice cracked like a whip. "We are already late! Should have reached it before the sun over us."

Eliza chuckled, slipping the mushroom into her bag. Her eyes found mine, and for a heartbeat, something passed between us, unspoken.

I cleared my throat and nodded. My heart hammered against my ribs like a caged bird. Without thinking, I pressed my hand to my chest, fingers curling into my tunic's rough fabric. Please, no. The drumming was relentless, war drums echoing in my bones.

When we reached the lake, the world shifted. Magic hung thick in the air, clinging to this place like morning fog. The water stretched before us, black as a mirror, reflecting the twisted trees that leaned over its edges. Their branches dipped into the depths like fingers searching for secrets.

Something was wrong.

Yesterday's goblin corpses had vanished. Drag marks scored the muddy shore, trailing into the forest's darker heart. I scanned the treeline for movement, but found only unnatural stillness. Even the wind held its breath.

Alira paid no heed, atleast she tried to. She kicked off her boots and waded to the water's edge, settling cross-legged on the bank. Her fingers brushed the surface, and I felt the magic respond. The lake itself seemed to feed her, droplets gathering on her skin like living things drawn to honey.

"She's magnificent," Eliza whispered beside me. "The way she draws essence around her... like breathing."

I watched the water dance across my sister's hands without dampening her sleeves. "This place helps a lot. We tried other places, but this lake helps her. It bleeds magic." I paused. "You could have awakened here, too. You've the gift of it."

Eliza smiled, her fingers brushing mine as she pulled me toward the trees. "Perhaps. But we've herbs to gather."

I hesitated, then followed. The forest felt peaceful now, no malice lurking in shadow's embrace. For once, we might find rest.

"What do these herbs look like?" I asked.

She pulled out a leather journal, pages worn soft with use. "Bloodroot first. Red vines that embrace tree trunks. Then Moonweep, silver as starlight on moss near water."

"Bloodroot?" I raised an eyebrow. "Sounds... welcoming."

Her laughter was warm honey. "Harmless as a lamb. You can search for these two specifically,"

We searched among the trees, scanning bark for crimson tendrils. After an hour or two, Eliza called out with triumph in her voice. "Einar! Here!"

I found her beside a young oak wrapped in deep red vines that pulsed faintly in the dim light from the other older trees. They would have been invisible to lesser eyes, but Eliza saw everything.

"Well spotted." I glanced at the sky. Light was fading faster than expected. "Take them quickly."

She drew a small knife, cutting with practiced care. Each vine went into a glass jar, sealed tight against the air. When I offered my hand to help her rise, our fingers touched, and something stirred in me again. Her skin was warm, soft against mine, and I didn't pull away immediately.

She smiled, her gaze lingering.

But I stepped back, clearing my throat. "Let's finish everything before dark claims us."

We gathered Moonweep from the rocks where Alira had practiced yesterday. Its silver strands gleamed like captured moonlight, nearly invisible against the stone.

As we worked, the air around my sister thickened with raw energy, condensing like morning mist yet radiating warmth instead of chill. She had sunk deep into her meditation, and I caught glimpses of dying ember wisps flickering near her fingertips, faint as candlelight but alive with purpose. The very atmosphere trembled with gathered power, making my skin prickle and the hair on my arms stand rigid. It was mesmerizing and terrible to witness.

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

Yet I felt distant from it all. I could sense the magic, taste it on my tongue, but it slipped away whenever I reached for it. Something in me rejected such gifts, pushed them aside like poison.

A twig snapped in the forest depths. My body went rigid, nostrils flaring as the scent of blood reached me on the wind.

"Einar?" Eliza's voice carried concern.

I forced my muscles to relax. "Just the woods speaking. Nothing more."

----------------------------------------

Ancient pines loomed before us like guardians of old, their bark scarred by countless winters and their branches thick with shadows that seemed to breathe. Wind howled through their crowns, carrying with it the bite of coming night. Cold seeped through my linen as we stepped near the cabin, where the very air hummed with something that no peasant should wield. Magic.

Mother stood before the cabin door, her wand raised high, weaving patterns that felt familiar to me from watching her countless times before. The runes carved deep into the doorframe responded to her wand, pulsing with amber light that painted her face in warm gold. Each gesture left trails of fire in the air, crimson and gold threads that danced before fading into nothing.

Alira tilted her head skyward, squinting through the canopy where a sliver of moon hung like a silver coin. "The Sereth moon rises," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the wind.

Eliza stepped closer, her brow creased with doubt. "How can you be certain? The clouds have shrouded the sky for days now. Only glimpses of moonlight break through."

A rare smile tugged at my lips. "Mother renews the wards with every full moon's rise." I nodded toward her, watching the staff carve its ancient dance through the cold air. "This marks the fourth renewal and the start of summer. She has never missed one, even in monsoon."

Eliza's gaze followed the staff's movements, her eyes wide with wonder. "She is... magnificent," she breathed, and there was something sacred in her voice, as if she gazed upon a goddess at her work.

A soft laugh escaped me. Alira caught my eye and grinned, puffing out her chest like a young rooster. "Now you see where I get my beauty from."

I shook my head, warmth breaking through despite everything. "Of course you do."

Mother lowered her wand as we approached, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. The runes settled into steady amber glows, their work complete for another moon's turning. She turned to us with a smile that carried both welcome and weariness.

"You took longer than usual," she said, concern threading through her words. "Did something happen?"

I ruffled Alira's hair, earning myself a sharp elbow to the ribs. "She’s close. She touched the flames today. Her power stirs."

Mother's face transformed, pride blazing in her eyes like the runes themselves. "My sweet girl, that is wondrous news!" She pulled Alira into her arms, holding her tight. "I am so proud of you, my little princess."

I watched Eliza from the corner of my eye as she stood apart from our family's embrace. Her smile wavered, and she turned her face away, but not before I caught the glimmer of tears. She wiped them quickly, thinking herself unseen. The loneliness radiated from her like heat from a forge. Years of living among strangers, of being stared at for her foreign features and her solitary ways, had carved hollows in her that no amount of kindness could fill.

Without thinking, I reached for her hand, my fingers intertwining with hers. She startled at my approach, those hazel eyes snapping to mine with surprise and something deeper. It was a small gesture, nothing more than flesh against flesh between two people who had supported each other for years, but I felt her pulse quicken beneath my fingers. Her feelings had grown stronger these past months, while mine had grown... complicated.

She placed her other hand over mine, her smile weak as watered wine. "I’m fine," she lied, her voice soft as falling leaves.

I pulled my hand back, the moment stretching too long. "We should go inside."

Mother was already guiding Alira toward the cabin door, asking about her day in the bright voice she used when she sensed tension. Eliza hesitated at the threshold, glancing back toward the darkening steps.

"I should return," she said quietly. "The herbs we gathered will lose their potency if not preserved before midnight."

Mother turned, her smile gentle as spring rain. "Do not let us keep you, dear. You are always welcome here. You are family to us."

Tears threatened to spill from Eliza's eyes. "Thank you, Aunt," she whispered, the word thick with emotion. Then she looked at me, her gaze holding weight I did not want to bear. "Einar... could you visit me tomorrow? There is something... something I must tell you."

The way she spoke made my stomach clench like a fist. Even Mother grew still, sensing the gravity in those simple words. I forced myself to nod, though every instinct screamed at me to refuse. "I will come. Walk carefully in the dark."

She smiled once more before melting into the shadows between the trees, her footsteps fading until only the wind remained.

----------------------------------------

Inside the cabin, firelight danced across timber walls worn smooth by years of care. The scent of stew filled the air, rich with herbs and thick with barley. I sat beside Mother at our scarred wooden table, dipping cold bread from morning into the steaming bowl, but my thoughts wandered like smoke.

Silence stretched between us, broken only by the soft clink of pewter and the occasional scrape of chair legs against stone. Alira sat quietly for once, her usual chatter replaced by a dreamy expression as she relived her first true taste of power. But Mother... something coiled tight within her, a tension that did not match her warm smiles.

Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but heavy as lead. "How long?"

I blinked, caught off guard. "W-What do you mean?"

She set down her spoon, never taking her eyes from mine. "How long has she carried these... feelings for you?"

The question struck me like a blow to the chest. I coughed, nearly choking on the bread. She had always known, of course. Mothers see what others miss. But after I had told her about the dreams, after everything had changed, she had asked me about my own heart. Now she was asking again.

I could not lie to her. The values she had taught me ran too deep. "A few months, perhaps longer," I admitted, my voice quieter now. "They grow stronger. She is... alone in this world."

Mother's expression did not change, but something softened in her eyes. "And you? Do you still love her?"

The words felt strange in my mouth, like a language I had forgotten. Love. I had cared for Eliza, yes. But love? Not anymore. The dreams had taken that from me, shown me glimpses of something I could never reach. "I... I think I did, once. But now... my heart... pulls elsewhere. Toward something I cannot touch. S-Something I cannot reach."

She drew in a shaking breath and pulled me against her chest, cradling my head as she had when I was small. "Einar," she whispered, her voice breaking like thin ice. "You cannot love her. You... You cannot love anyone. Please... listen to me. It is the only selfish thing I will ever ask of you."

I felt her tears against my hair, and something cracked inside my chest. This was not about Eliza. This was about the shadows she kept hidden, the secrets that lived behind her eyes.

Alira watched from across the table, her bright gaze moving between us before she spoke with the bluntness of youth. "Do you not want him to be happy, Ma?"

Mother smiled at that, though her voice remained soft. "Of course I do, sweet. I want happiness for both of you. But sometimes... sometimes there are things greater than our desires. Things we cannot bend to our will." She looked into my eyes, and I felt the weight of prophecy in her words. "Just wait... Just trust me. Your fate is larger than this village. Larger than you know."

Words meant for heroes in ancient ballads, not for a village boy who dreamed of things beyond his reach. Yet if embracing such beliefs could restore the light to my mother's eyes, I would bear that burden. If crushing my desires, burying my truth, severing every tender feeling could purchase her happiness, I would swallow that poison gladly and call it wine.

"Anything for you, Mother," I said, brushing the tears from her cheeks with gentle fingers. "I swear to you, I will set things right with Eliza. She will... understand."

The room seemed smaller suddenly, the fire's warmth more stifling than comforting. Her words should have brought comfort, but they did not. Instead, they made the emptiness inside me grow, as if the distance between my dreams and this life stretched wider with each heartbeat.

Something was breaking inside me.

And I feared I could not hold the pieces together much longer.