Chapter 30: A Series of Embraces

LUCARION

I lay in bed, staring into the dark, but sleep wouldn’t come. I needed it. If I could just fall asleep, I’d leave this nightmare and go back to my forest. So why couldn’t I? No idea why. Scratch that, that’s a lie. I know exactly why.

My heart wouldn’t slow down. It just kept racing, loud and fast. I mean, she’s using me like a pillow. Right now. Like… right now.

I wanted more than anything to just enjoy it, to relax and let myself drift off, but I couldn’t. I could feel it, the faint shift in the air, the light creeping into the cave. The sun was coming up, and I still couldn’t wake up here or fall asleep there.

***

EMMA

I suppose I should continue properly this time.

When I woke up, I was curled up against Olive. I moved away after that. Carefully. I do not think she noticed. I hope she did not notice. I shook her gently so she would wake up.

We made our way out of the cave together. It felt smaller on the way back. Or maybe I was just more aware of everything in it. The creatures were still there, moving in the dark, and I tried very hard not to look at them for too long. I think I did better this time.

Olive went off to… relieve herself. So I am writing to you while I wait. She seemed a little different when we got up. Not upset, exactly. More disappointed. I keep wondering if I slowed her down. Would things have gone better if I had not been there? Maybe she would have finished in a day like she planned and slept in her own bed instead. Maybe she is upset with me.

I said I moved away as soon as I woke up, but that is not entirely true. I stayed like that for a moment before I moved. I am not sure why. I watched her for a little while, longer than I probably should have. Her breathing changed after a bit, uneven, and she started to groan and shift like she was having a bad dream. That was when I woke her up.

Her hair was a mess, caught on leaves and bits of moss, and her flower crown had fallen off at some point, probably during the run. There was dirt on her cheek. She should have looked ridiculous.

She looked…

Pretty feels too simple. It is the correct word, but not enough of it.

I have seen couples before. Families too. It is not like this feeling is new to me. The church sees plenty of that. I know what it looks like when people care about each other. I know what it feels like.

Sometimes she looks at me with those bright, sparkly eyes, and I cannot help but think that she feels the same. But other times she talks and acts like we are just friends. Maybe because I am older, I am reading too much into it. Maybe she does not feel the same way yet. Or maybe she cannot.

I cannot believe I chose to write about this instead of the fact that she nearly got us killed. I cannot believe I followed her into the forest, a place I was told was dangerous. I barely know her. Especially after what happened before.

The only reason I even started talking to her was because—

***

OLIVE

Once we got out of the cave, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. Well, not a bathroom, since we were in the forest. More like behind a tree.

I was so mad at myself for not waking up before she did. I could’ve held her before she woke up, like she held me, but noooo, that stupid Lucarion just had to stay awake. Plus, my head hurts.

I pulled up my pants and started to go around the tree when a little ball of fur flew past me.

POP.

It went straight into a purple bubble I had been moments from walking into.

I blinked, then looked down, searching for it, and found it wobbling on the ground.

A Kitesqueak.

It pushed itself up slowly and started walking away from me. The way animals do when they’re about to collapse, all uneven and off-balance. Except it didn’t stop. It just kept going like that.

Toward Emma.

I frowned and followed it.

I pushed through a bush and stepped into the clearing. Emma was sitting there, writing in the notebook I gave her.

That made me smile.

Then she snapped it shut.

“Oh, come on,” I said, walking closer. “What were you writing to close it so fast?”

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, holding it a little tighter. “Just… notes.”

“Notes?” I tilted my head. “You’re writing about me, aren’t you?” I pointed at her.

“That is not true,” she said, a bit too fast.

“Then let me see.”

“No.”

She hugged the notebook to her chest.

I squinted at her. “It’s about me, isn’t it?”

The Kitesqueak kept going, nearly at the edge of the clearing now.

Her face went red. “It is not.”

“It is,” I said, starting after the little squirrel.

“It isn’t.”

“You’re lying.”

“You just… cannot read it,” she said, her face turning even redder as she looked away.

“Why not?”

She hurried after me. “Because it’s mine,” she said, quieter now. “And it’s not finished.”

I crossed my arms as I walked. “That sounds suspicious.” I blinked hard as the world swayed for a second before settling again.

“It is not suspicious.”

“It is a little suspicious.”

She turned away, still clutching the notebook. “You are not reading it.”

“Fine,” I said, stepping forward anyway. “But only because I have something more important.”

She looked back at me, wary. “What?”

“A Kitesqueak just flew into one of those purple bubbles,” I said, pointing behind me. “Right there. It made a popping sound and everything.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah. I almost walked into it too.”

She perked up immediately, all focus now. “Is it okay?”

“It’s… walking,” I said. “Weirdly. Like it’s about to fall over, but it’s not.”

Emma hesitated, then looked down at her notebook, then back at me.

“…We should check on it.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “That’s what I thought too. You still have today’s spell, right?”

“Yes,” she said, tucking the notebook into her satchel, still a little protective about it.

I noticed.

Definitely about me.

***

We followed the Kitesqueak to an outgrove with a stream.

We crouched just past the bend, half-hidden behind a tangle of low brush and twisted roots, where the trees grew thick and gnarled, their bark webbed with moss so dark it looked black. The light barely reached here, and the air shimmered faintly. Bubbles floated through the branches like drifting stars, soft and violet, pulsing gently.

The sun was nearly overhead, yet the clearing felt darker than it should have. The branches above tangled into a dense canopy, choking out most of the light. Only thin beams made it through, breaking apart against the forest floor while the edges lingered in heavy shadow. Vines draped low between the trunks, and the undergrowth crowded in thick around the edges of the clearing, leaving only narrow paths between.

I was watching for movement when Emma pointed upward. “There, up on the branch—are those…?”

I followed her finger, though my focus kept slipping, like my eyes wouldn’t quite settle where I wanted them. For a moment, I thought it was just bark, then it moved.

The shape shifted slowly, folding one wing inward. Pale light danced across it like starlight through rippling water.

It wasn’t alone. There was an entire parliament of Aethrons.

They were scattered all through the tree, perched along the higher limbs, tucked between clusters of leaves, barely visible unless they moved. I counted a dozen.

“We made it,” I whispered, picking up the little Kitesqueak, a small bit of relief slipping through despite how close we had gotten before getting trapped.

We held still, barely breathing, as more bubbles floated down like falling petals. We didn’t dare touch them. That’s when we heard it. A soft rustle.

From the far side of the clearing, a large stag stepped forward, its shimmering crystal antlers brushing the lower branches. It moved slowly, deliberately, weaving between the drifting bubbles.

“One of its eyes is also a crystal,” Emma gasped.

I looked closer. She was right. Its left eye and ears were crystallized.

“That’s a Crystal Stag. They use magic similar to us, but every time they do, a part of themselves crystallizes,” I said, breath catching despite myself.

One of the bubbles brushed its side and popped with a soft chime, like a bell from some far-off temple.

The stag paused, sniffing the air.

Then, as if summoned, it turned and walked toward a bush near the stream—a wide, low thing we hadn’t noticed before. Its pale branches looked soft, almost inviting, dotted with small, dull thorns that didn’t seem like much of a threat. They bent under the weight of plump dark berries, the kind that glistened like they were always wet, even when it hadn’t rained.

The stag leaned down and took a bite, its powerful jaw tearing through the thorns as it ripped free a cluster of berries.

Emma looked shocked. “It just ate the thorns.”

I smiled. “That’s normal. Thorns are just for smaller things. Bigger animals don’t even notice them.”

The stag chewed, calm and unbothered. Then it paused. Its head dipped slightly.

Emma frowned. “Olive…?”

Its knees buckled.

Emma’s voice sharpened. “I thought you said it was okay.”

“It is,” I said quickly, even as the stag folded to the ground. “It doesn’t look hurt.”

Emma stared at it. “Then what?”

“It’s fine,” I said, watching it settle, slow and almost peaceful. “It just… fell asleep, I think.”

Emma gasped quietly beside me as the deer lay still, graceful and unmoving, like it had simply decided to nap.

I rubbed at my temple, trying to clear the ache. Everything felt just a little too slow. Or maybe too fast. I couldn’t tell.

Then came the second rustle. A shadow slid from the treeline, three Vulpiquills, squat, long-tailed creatures about knee high with oversized ears and bristled fur already puffing out.

They crept toward the stag in near silence, then lunged, sharp teeth sinking into its throat.

We both flinched but stayed frozen. I glanced at Emma. Her skin had gone pale, her hands covering her eyes.

They moved away when around half the body was gone, one walking off as the other two lay still in the leaves. And that’s when the bush moved.

Its root system, at first still, began to inch outward like timid fingers, coiling slowly around the remains. Vines slid up the deer’s flank, wrapping it, embracing it, pulling it inward.

The leaves shifted. The ground beneath the bush seemed to give, just slightly, as the carcass was dragged under, swallowed by the tangle of roots and shadow.

Emma swallowed. “That’s not normal.”

“Unfortunately, it is,” I said, my voice hoarse.

“It shouldn’t be.”

We looked back to the Aethrons in the tree. They hadn’t moved. But now that I knew what to look for, I saw it. Thin vines coiled around their wings.

Another bubble drifted from one of their mouths, catching the light like a gemstone.

“Those aren’t warning bubbles,” I whispered. “They’re bait.”

“We can’t just leave them there!” she retorted, her voice a furious whisper.

“We won’t. We can—stop!”

She burst to her feet, her hands trembling, but her voice steady as she aimed them toward the tangled vines.

“Unbind.”

The word rang out, loud and clear. A pulse of gold light flared at her fingertips and spread outward, like ripples through still water.

The vines shuddered. Then they slackened, peeling away from the Aethrons’ wings. Wings burst wide. The air filled with feathers, soft and silent, drifting like starlight across water. The Aethrons rose into the canopy in a sudden rush of movement, disappearing into shadow.

The bush screeched, its vines snapping like whips as they retracted back into it.

“Why would you do that?” I snapped at Emma. “There’s a proper way of doing these things!”

A rising hiss followed by squeaks cut me off.

I froze.

Low shapes shifted between the trees, just beyond the edge of the clearing, circling. I caught flashes of movement tails, ears, teeth.

Emma turned slowly, her breath catching. “Olive…?”

The air tightened.

“Watch out!”

I tackled Emma to the ground just as a blast of compressed air tore past us. Bark splintered from a nearby trunk, and leaves scattered like startled birds.

“Shine!” The word ripped out of me as light exploded from my palm, a blinding flare that filled the clearing. The shadows shattered. The shapes broke apart.

Both Vulpiquills stumbled, blinded, crashing into trees as they fled.

“I did it!” I started to say—then heard the rising hiss again.

Blast.

Emma was hit straight in the chest, sending her against a tree. She landed on all fours, gasping for breath.

The third had come back without me noticing.

I couldn’t hesitate.

I took off.

I sprinted past her, boots slipping against loose leaves as I pushed toward the bush. The ground dipped beneath me and my vision tilted, just for a second, enough to throw off my stride. I nearly turned the wrong way before catching myself and forcing forward.

Behind me, something crashed through the undergrowth. I risked a glance back.

The Vulpiquills were fast, but the branches caught at them, tangling their path. One stumbled over a root, skidding before recovering, ears flattening as it pushed through.

I heard the blast coming and dropped low, throwing myself forward, rolling just as it tore overhead. The force of it ripped through the branches above me, scattering leaves and bark. I hit the ground hard, kept moving, scrambling the last few steps.

I skidded to the base of the Drowze Bush. The berries glistened above me. I grabbed a handful, ripping them from the branch. Sticky juice smeared my palm, ice-cold and sharp as mint.

The Vulpiquill tackled me.

We hit the ground hard. Its claws tore into my shoulder, I screamed, and twisted away.

“EAT THIS!”

I shoved my hand into its mouth.

Pain exploded through my arm as its teeth slammed down, tearing into my hand. I screamed, twisting, forcing the berries deeper anyway.

The beast thrashed, trying to clamp harder, but the juice had already started working. Its grip faltered. It stumbled, blinked, and then collapsed sideways, breathing heavy, eyes unfocused.

I yanked my hand free, choking on the pain. Blood ran down my wrist.

Vines inched forward, coiling around the sleeping Vulpiquill.

I froze.

“Wait—” I whispered, but it was too late.

The creature’s small, bristled body twitched once, helpless, as the vines wrapped its limbs and tail, pulling it toward the thickest part of the bush. Its puffed fur deflated slowly, like a bellows run out of air.

A sharp hiss cut through the silence. I barely had time to turn before the two Vulpiquills burst from the trees. The blast hit me full in the chest.

For a moment, it almost felt… weightless. Like I was falling too slowly, like the air itself was holding me before letting me drop, until something soft caught me.

The air slammed back into my chest, ragged and uneven, and a sharp, crushing ache spread through me as the branches shifted around me. I tried to pull back, but pain shot through my side.

Tiny hooks dug into my skin, catching on my clothes, my arms, my hair. The more I moved, the more they found, each shift dragging another point deeper until I froze, breath shaking.

The Vulpiquills moved closer, salivating.

“Emma…” my voice came out small. “Emma, help!”

They crept closer. I tried to pull free again. Pain flared sharper. The hooks dug deeper.

“I’m stuck… I can’t!”

They jumped.

The ground beneath me shifted.

A blur of steel cut past me.

Two swords spun through the air.

Thunk. Thunk.

The Vulpiquills dropped mid-lunge, cut in half, their bodies collapsing into the leaves.

“Hold still,” a voice said.

A blade flashed near my arm, slicing cleanly through the branches. The tension eased instantly in that spot.

“Ingrid,” another voice said, a bit higher. “Careful. Those are barbed.”

“I can see that.” She said as she cut the branches of me.

Each one freed a little more of me. I turned my head to see who they were, though every movement still pulled at something else.

“Stop struggling,” Ingrid said. “You’re making it worse.”

 “I’m not—” my voice broke. “I’m not trying to—”

“Then don’t move,” she snapped, already working.

My head was pounding now, worse than before, each heartbeat pressing behind my eyes. I could feel it everywhere, each pulse pulling at the hooks still caught in my skin.

“Doran,” she said.

“I’ve got her.”  Said a higher pitched voice. Heavy footsteps moved away from me towards where Emma was.

The pressure eased. The branches loosened as they cut through the worst of it, careful not to drag the hooks deeper.

One final slice—

And I was pulled free.

My legs nearly gave out.

A small woman caught me before I hit the ground. “Easy.”

The moment I wasn’t trapped anymore, it all hit at once.

I grabbed onto her, pressing my face against her chest as I shook. A sob tore out of me, then another. My chest hitched, breath coming in sharp, uneven pulls as everything I’d been holding in broke loose.

“I—I thought—” I couldn’t even finish it.

“It’s alright,” she said, steady, keeping me upright. “You’re out.”

I shook my head, trying to breathe, trying to stop, but it wouldn’t listen.

“Emma—” I forced out between breaths, panic snapping back in. “Where’s Emma—?”

“Doran’s already on it.”

I looked past her, still dragging in shaky breaths.

Emma was on the ground where she’d been thrown, but a giant mountain of a man was already kneeling beside her, one hand steady on her shoulder.

“Emma,” he said, his voice oddly pitched. “Can you hear me?”

I swallowed hard, forcing the sobs down, wiping my face roughly with my sleeve, trying to get my breathing under control.

“Emma…” I whispered.

Emma groaned.

Everything in me loosened all at once.

“I’m… okay,” she mumbled, blinking up at her. “What—what happened?”

I took one last shaky breath, then straightened, scrubbing the rest of the tears away before she could look at me.

“Ol—Olive, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, hiding my bleeding hand behind me.

Emma ran to me. Her steps kicked up little puffs of leaf dust, her boots skidding slightly in the moss. Her hands hovered, panicked.

“Your shoulder—!”

I looked at it. It was bleeding, but not much. “I’ll be fine,” I muttered, trying to sit up. “I can heal it tomorrow.”

“Do neither of you have spell casts left?” Ingrid asked.

Emma looked at her as if just now noticing she was there.

“W-who are you?” she asked, taking a step back and bumping into the armored giant behind her.

She squeaked in fear and embraced me.

Pain flared as I pulled her closer, sharp enough to make me suck in a breath. I buried my face against her shoulder, holding on tighter. The pounding in my head dulled a little.

I didn’t consider letting go for a second.