The forest did not bend to him. It stood with him.
The earth answered Dar’s fury.
The ground split open beneath the warlock’s feet. Roots burst upward, thick as serpents. He tried to counter the attack with his magic, but it was useless against the powerful roots. They wrapped around his legs, his torso, his arms so quickly he had barely had time to respond, to defend himself. Every magical strike he was able to make bounced off the coiling roots and dissipated as if it were nothing more than a playful tap. The warlock spewed out spell after spell that went the way of his magical strikes as the soil continued to drag him slowly down until only his head showed.
“Nay!” he roared. “What are you?—?”
Dar lifted his head, eyes burning not with fury but control. “A Hunter, keeper of the land.”
The warlock roared again and the earth swallowed it and him whole. The sound of it—stone grinding, roots shifting—faded, until it left only the hush of leaves and the distant murmur of wind moving through branches. Whatever had hunted them was gone. Whatever threat had come for Elara had ended here.
Dar felt no triumph, only loss.
He turned back to his wife and though he knew she would not respond, he still called out to her. “Elara.”
She lay where he had placed her, wrapped in his cloak, her silver hair stark against the dark forest floor. He glanced once toward the trees, looking for a flicker of blue light, the quick shimmer of wings.
“Amelia?” he called quietly.
Nothing stirred. No whisper. No flutter. And he wondered where she had gone.
Dar lowered himself beside Elara and sat heavily, as if the weight of the world had finally found his shoulders. He gathered her hand in his, enclosing it between both of his, rubbing gently as though warmth might return if he willed it strongly enough.
Her fingers were cold.
He bowed his head, resting his brow against her knuckles.
“I hoped to join you today,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “I truly did. I thought perhaps fate would grant us a little mercy after all we’ve endured.”
He swallowed, tightening his grip on her hand, not ready or willing to let her go. “But it seems fate had other plans.”
The forest breathed around them.
“You took my heart with you,” he went on quietly. “Every part of me that mattered… it went with you. If there is any truth left in this world, then it is this—where you are, my heart will be also.”
A sudden chill swept through the clearing.
Not the cool breeze of evening, nor the promise of rain but something deeper, sharper. Dar stiffened at once, instinct flaring. He leaned over Elara, shielding her with his body, one arm braced protectively across her as if she might still feel it.
“Enough,” he warned, his voice low. “She has suffered?—”
Then he felt it.
A presence.
He lifted his head slowly.
The dark, ethereal form hovered several paces away, its shape shifting like smoke held together by will alone. No features were visible beneath the raised hood, yet pale strands of hair—blonde, luminous—spilled free, stirring as though moved by a wind only it could feel.
The figure raised a slender hand.
It pointed at him.
Then, with a small, deliberate motion, it gestured for him to move away from Elara.
Dar hesitated only a heartbeat.
He rose slowly and stepped back, every instinct screaming at him not to move, not to leave her side. His voice broke as he pleaded, “Please. Bring her back to me.”