For Enduring

he’s alive,” said the figure.

Juna stepped slowly into the warm afternoon light, one hand resting on her living-wood staff. The exhaustion in her was impossible to miss. Her dark hair, streaked with silver, lay loosely over the vines worked through her robes, and the bright pink Sol’Syluuma flowers at her feet seemed almost startling against the lifeless entrance behind her. She looked from one waiting face to another, and despite her own weariness, she smiled.

Something green emerged from the darkness behind Juna.

The broad leaf floated several inches above the steps, large enough to serve as a bed, drifting forward with the same effortless magic that had carried Av'elyth deeper into the grove days before. Blankets had been arranged across it, and in their center lay the elf.

Navian had prepared himself for wounds. He had prepared himself for bandages, unconsciousness, even the possibility that Juna’s words would not be good news. He had not prepared himself for how thin Av'elyth looked. Her white skin seemed even paler beneath the open sunlight, and her long black hair spread across the blankets around her shoulders. Whatever the druids had done had taken the violence from her wounds, but not yet returned what those wounds had taken from her.

The elf’s blue eyes moved across the six of them, one by one, alert beneath the exhaustion.

“You all look terrible.”

For a heartbeat nobody reacted. Then Lunara made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob and ran up the remaining steps. Oesora went with her, Karneth close behind, and Navian saw Juna open her mouth as if to caution them just before Lunara bent over the leaf and wrapped both arms around Av'elyth.

“Ow.” Av'elyth grimaced.

Lunara recoiled so violently she nearly stumbled backward. “Oh—shit. Av'elyth, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

For one terrible second Av'elyth clutched her side and stared at her. Then a weak laugh escaped her, and the panic melted away from Lunara’s face so quickly that she began laughing too. Oesora covered her mouth, unable to hide her own relief, while Karneth planted himself beside the leaf and looked down at Av'elyth as though he still needed proof she was truly there.

Av'elyth’s eyes found him. “You got shorter.”

Karneth studied her gaunt face. “You got skinnier, rabbit.”

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Oesora came closer and gently took Av'elyth’s hand. “It is good to see you alive.”

The humor faded from Av'elyth’s face, but not the warmth. Her fingers closed around the priestess’s. “I owe you more than anyone for that, priestess of Ria.”

Oesora shook her head. “You owe me nothing. Though I imagine you will never want another drop of berryjuice for as long as you live.”

Av'elyth gave a tired groan. “Next time just let me die.”

Lunara laughed, and even Karneth’s beard shifted around a smile.

Gaz approached while the others made room. He had been watching Av'elyth since she first emerged, but now that he stood beside her he seemed to lose whatever words he might have prepared. His hand hovered briefly over her shoulder before settling there with great care.

“You had us frightened,” he said.

Gaz’s mouth tightened as though there were much more he wanted to say and no version of it that would help. He bent and pressed his forehead against hers, then remained beside her with one hand resting lightly against her shoulder.

Av'elyth’s gaze moved beyond him. Jaeshu still stood several paces away.

She winced and pushed herself upright before raising her voice. “I can still kill you from way over there, ranger.”

Jaeshu smiled. The expression opened across his face without restraint, broad and unmistakable, and for once Jaeshu made no effort to hide it. He walked toward the leaf and stopped beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Neither spoke.

She gave a brief dip of her chin, and Jaeshu answered with a nod of his own. Then he stepped aside.

Only Navian had not approached. Av'elyth noticed. Her eyes found him at the bottom of the steps, and some of the sharpness returned to them.

“I figured you’d all ridden off and left me for the druids to bury.”

“No.” Navian smiled. “…no.”

He climbed the steps and came to her side. For a moment he simply looked down at her—thin, exhausted, alive—and felt the knot that had sat beneath his ribs for days finally begin to loosen.

Av'elyth studied his face as though she were searching for something.

She looked away before he could see too much.

“Oh.” Oesora suddenly glanced down at the satchel hanging against her hip. “I had hoped to do this in a less dramatic moment.”

That drew everyone’s attention. Oesora opened the satchel and began taking out the small things she had gathered for them while they waited for word from the grove. She passed them around without ceremony, letting each person discover what she had chosen. The gifts brought quieter smiles than laughter, small acknowledgments exchanged in the warm courtyard while Av'elyth watched from the leaf.

Then the rogue lifted one hand. “I assume almost dying earns something.”

Oesora looked at her and smiled. She reached into the satchel again and drew out a slender chain. A crystal hung from it, cut into the shape of a small moon. The stone was pale and almost clear, catching the afternoon sun along its curved edge as Oesora lowered it carefully into Av'elyth’s palm.

Av'elyth turned it between her fingers. “What… is it?”

“It comes from the forest of your home, in Oth’golimn.”

Oesora watched her examine it, and when she spoke again there was no ceremony in her voice, only the quiet sincerity that had always seemed to make her simplest words harder to dismiss. “I wanted you to have something from there. Something to remind you of the light you carry inside, Av'elyth, even when everything is dark.”

The words were spoken quietly, without force, but they did not pass lightly.

Av'elyth’s fingers closed around the chain. She looked down at the little moon, then slowly around at the people standing beside her, as if she needed to make certain they were all truly there. The hard line of her mouth trembled first. She blinked, once and then again, and a tear escaped before she could turn her face away.

Whatever she had been holding together finally gave way.

Her blue eyes filled. Tears spilled freely down her white cheeks, and she turned her face away as though embarrassed to have let them see. She reached for Oesora with shaking hands and pulled the priestess into a fierce embrace, burying her face against her shoulder. Oesora held her at once, one hand cradling the back of Av'elyth’s head while the other settled gently across her shoulders.

“Thank you,” Av'elyth whispered. Her voice broke against the words. “All of you. I… I thought I was done. Thought I’d wake up alone again. But you came back for me.”

Navian knelt beside her and held her hand.

“You were never alone, Av'elyth,” he said. “Not for a day.”

Oesora continued to hold her, slowly smoothing the long raven hair away from her face while Av'elyth cried against her. Lunara joined them first, this time careful of every wound, wrapping her arms around both women and pressing her cheek against Av'elyth’s shoulder. Karneth moved in next with none of his usual hesitation, his great hand settling gently against Av'elyth’s back as Gaz came beside him and folded himself around his sister. Jaeshu lingered only long enough to find a place that would not crush anyone, then put an arm around the others. Navian came last.

The embrace was awkward by necessity, seven bodies trying to fit around a floating bed, armor catching against cloth and shoulders crowding shoulders, but no one cared enough to move away. Av'elyth laughed once through her tears and immediately began crying harder. Lunara’s face disappeared against her hair. Gaz closed his eyes and held on. Karneth said nothing at all, though when Navian glanced toward him the dwarf was staring firmly at some point beyond the group.

Gradually, Av'elyth’s breathing steadied against Oesora’s shoulder, and the embrace began to loosen.

Juna let them have the time. When the group began to loosen around Av'elyth, the elder druid stepped closer, her weariness more visible now that the relief had eased some of the attention from her.

“She will need rest,” Juna said. “More than she will believe she needs, and more than she is likely to accept. The wounds have closed, the fever is gone, and she is no longer in danger. But healing does not return in a single breath what the body has spent. A day or two should suffice.”

Av'elyth wiped at her cheeks with the heel of one hand. “Two?”

Juna gave her a look that made the answer unnecessary.

Before Av'elyth could argue, hoofbeats sounded beneath the outer archway.

The mounted guards at the entrance shifted aside to allow two riders through. Navian recognized the small woman in emerald almost at once, though they had not yet been formally introduced. Bree rode a white horse into the grove, her green cloak falling neatly behind her, while Rikaard came beside her on Newcastle. The great direwolf moved easily beneath him, but as they approached the tree his pace slowed.

Juna turned toward them. “Lady Bree.”

Bree dismounted, then softly bowed to the druid. “It is a relief to see you, Elder Juna.” She straightened, and her attention went immediately above Juna’s head. The near-empty branches spread across the bright sky.

“What happened to the tree?”

The question quieted everyone.

Juna followed her gaze. “The grove… gave deeply.”

Gaz looked from the deadened canopy to Av'elyth. “To heal Av'elyth?”

“To preserve her first,” Juna said. “Then to mend what could be mended. Most of our work asks only what the druids themselves can give. This required the strength of the grove as well.”

Navian looked toward the open passage beneath the roots. The darkness inside seemed heavier now beneath the afternoon sun. “And all the other druids we saw?”

“They rest.” Juna’s answer came easily, gentle as ever. “As does the grove. What you see is mere exhaustion, nothing more. It has given more of itself than it has in many years, and it will need time to recover. Life returns in its own season.”

Bree studied the tree another moment, then released a breath she had not realized she was holding. “I am glad to hear it. When the light vanished, I sent the Emerald Guard in case you needed help. I did not know what had happened in there.”

A few paces behind Bree, Newcastle stared toward the tree with his nose working. His ears shifted, but his eyes remained on the grove.

“You were kind to do so,” Juna said with a faint smile. “They were not needed, but you have my thanks. As always, provost.”

Bree turned toward the seven companions. “My apologies, travelers. We have not had the opportunity for a proper introduction. I am Bree, Provost of Caerhaven.” She looked to Av'elyth first, giving her a small nod before addressing the others. “I am very glad to see your companion alive. I only wish your welcome to the city had come under better circumstances.”

From behind her, Rikaard called, “She’s going to try to recruit you!”

Bree’s shoulders tightened as she glanced back at him. Rikaard was smiling, apparently far too pleased with himself. She turned her head just enough to look at him.

“Ignore him,” Bree continued. “You are all welcome here. So stay as long as she needs. Rest tonight and we can speak tomorrow, once everyone has had some sleep.”

Karneth pressed his fists together. “Ah, you say recruitment, I hear fightin’.”

“Or coin,” said Jaeshu.

Bree looked back to Navian before the exchange could become anything more. “Tomorrow.”

Navian smiled. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“You’re quite welcome, paladin.”

Juna shifted her grip on the living-wood staff. The movement was small, but Navian saw the strain in it. Some of the color had drained from her face since she first stepped into the sunlight.

“I must apologize,” she said. “I am very tired. I should return to the others.”

The thanks came from all of them then, overlapping at first and becoming quieter as Juna acknowledged each in turn. Av'elyth held the moon crystal against her palm and watched the elder druid for a long moment before adding her own.

“Elder Juna.”

The druid looked back.

Av'elyth hesitated, her fingers closing around the crystal moon. “I’d never met a druid up close before. I don’t really… I thank you. For everything.”

Juna regarded her for a moment, then bowed her head.

“And I thank you as well, Av'elyth of Oth’golimn.”

Av'elyth’s brow tightened faintly. “For?”

“For enduring.”

Juna smiled, turned, and climbed the steps alone.

Her robes disappeared into the darkness beneath the roots, and after a few moments the great circular slab began to roll back across the opening. No light appeared around its edges as the passage narrowed. The last glimpse Navian had of the elder druid was a pale hand against her staff, then stone covered the entrance and settled heavily into place.

The courtyard remained silent until Av'elyth tried to sit up on her own. Gaz and Karneth both moved at once. She gave them an irritated look but accepted the help, swinging her legs carefully from the floating leaf and putting her feet beneath her. The first attempt to stand left her gripping Karneth’s forearm harder than she intended.

Bree glanced toward the white horse she had ridden in on. “You are not walking back to the inn, dear.”

Av'elyth looked as though she intended to argue anyway. Bree spared her the trouble. “Her name is Pearl. You may borrow her until you are strong enough to manage on your own.”

For once, Av'elyth seemed unable to find an objection quickly enough.

Bree turned toward one of the women in green armor near the entrance. “Sophita. Have a few of the Emerald Guard escort them back to their inn.”

The captain nodded. “Of course, milady.”

Between Karneth and Gaz, Av'elyth made it to Pearl. Lunara immediately began worrying over how they were supposed to get her into the saddle without aggravating anything the druids had only just healed, while Av'elyth complained that everyone was treating her like she might shatter. With Karneth’s help she finally settled onto the mare, and Oesora took her place beside her, glancing up every few steps as though reassuring herself that Av'elyth had not somehow disappeared again.

The others gathered around them, and the small procession began to leave the grove with several Emerald Guards accompanying them. Bree went with the group, while Rikaard followed a short distance behind.

After several steps, Rikaard stopped when he realized Newcastle was no longer beside him. The direwolf still sat near the tree, staring at the sealed stone, his nose working slowly at the air while the others disappeared beneath the archway.

“Newcastle.”

One ear turned toward him. The wolf did not move.

Rikaard whistled.

Newcastle remained there another moment, eyes fixed on the enormous trunk, before finally rising and running across the courtyard to catch up.

Their footsteps faded beyond the arch until there was only silence once again.

The warm afternoon settled over the empty grove once more.

High above the courtyard, upon the highest branch of the tree, a single gold leaf still clung.

A soft breeze caught beneath it, twisting it once against the blue sky before pulling it free.

It drifted slowly downward through the sunlight, turning end over end until it disappeared among the roots below.

The great tree was dead.