“That makes sense. I’ve never seen anyth—

  Ah…ow, my head. It…oh shit, it really hurts. Help…I……………..”

  A deep, gurgling rumble filled her mind, like a bubbling breath dragged through liquid. Shadows flickered across her thoughts, four silhouettes crowding around the bloom. She couldn’t tell what they were doing, but the sensation was undeniable: pain. The Eiranth’s pain. Its cries shivered through her bones, faint at first, then louder, sharper, until the sound became a shriek splitting her skull.

  Ariel clutched her head and cried out, the scream not from her throat but from the flower itself, piercing her mind. Fornaskr rushed to her side, grabbing her shoulders to steady her. But the sound inside her skull shifted, screams breaking apart, reshaping into words.

  Help. Help me. Anyone… And then, clear as a blade sliding between her ribs: Ariel.

  Her gut wrenched. She doubled over, shrieking, the name ripping through her like fire. Tears blurred her vision as she gasped, unable to understand why that word, that name, felt like it was hers, felt like it was everything she had lost.

  She forced herself back, pulling her thoughts away, gasping as the screech faded to silence. Her chest rose and fell as if she had run miles. She swallowed hard, then looked at Fornaskr, voice trembling. “I saw them,” she said. “Four figures… shadows standing around the flower. I couldn’t see what they were doing, but I could feel it. The Eiranth… it was in pain. I could hear it. Like a breath dragged through water, bubbling and broken. And then it screamed for help… for anyone. And then…” she faltered, clutching at her chest.

  “It said a name. Ariel. I don't know why, but it cut into me like it was important to me.” Her hands tightened into fists against her knees, eyes wide with fear and confusion. “It wasn’t just sound. It was inside me, tearing through me. God, Fornaskr, I could feel its cries like they were my own.”

  Fornaskr’s face darkened as he absorbed her words. His jaw worked, the muscles in his cheek tightening as if he were weighing something heavy. At last, he exhaled, voice low and grim.

  “It must have been them. The four Acolytes of Gloymr: Tréga, Myrkrún, Tyna and Dreyfa. It makes sense. They would strike at what remains, at the last vestiges of color and light. To poison the Eiranth is to wound the heart of this island.”

  He glanced toward the weeping bloom, his expression shadowed by both awe and dread. “The Wisp’s presence must hold them at bay, must keep them from acting directly. But through corruption, through venom and shadow, they twist the world from a distance. And if the Eiranth falls fully to their rot…” He let the thought hang, the unspoken consequences pressing heavier than stone.

  Ariel’s gaze drifted down to the ink-black pool seeping around the Eiranth’s roots. The oily sheen rippled faintly, nauseating in its resemblance to the venom she had drawn from her own flesh, and from Fornaskr’s wound. “It looks just like the Skryll poison,” she murmured, jaw tight.

  She reached into her pack and pulled free the last of the medicinal leaves. Not nearly enough, she knew, but perhaps enough to test. She chewed a few quickly, wincing as the bitter taste flooded her mouth, then spat the pulpy mass into her palm. Closing her eyes, she whispered to the forest within her, coaxing the power forward. The herbs glowed faintly in her hand, alive with energy, before she flicked them into the pool of corruption.

  The effect was immediate. Where the glowing herbs touched, the venom hissed and sizzled, burning away into nothing—but only for a moment. More black ichor welled up at once, filling the void, spreading like a wound that refused to close. Ariel exhaled sharply, frustration in her voice. “It works. But it’s nowhere near enough. We’d need so much more.”

  She turned to Fornaskr. “Where do these leaves come from?”

  He lifted his head, considering. “The Sallowthorn tree. Common to these parts. Their leaves help with minor afflictions, but the fruit…” he hesitated, lips tightening, “... the fruit can be used for the most severe injuries. Venoms. Plagues.”

  Ariel scanned the grove, searching the tangle of trees around them. Not a single fruit hung from the branches. Her brow furrowed. “I don’t see any.”

  Fornaskr followed her gaze, shoulders sagging when he too found nothing. “No Sallowthorn here. Not in this grove.”

  Ariel lifted her chin, eyes catching on a gap high in the canopy where faint light broke through. An opening, far above. She glanced at the vine curled around her arm, then back at Fornaskr.

  “So,” she asked softly, “do you want to stay here, or come with me?”

  Fornaskr followed her gaze upward. When he realized what she was suggesting, he let out a short chuckle and shook his head. “I prefer to keep my feet on the ground, Minnidottir.”

  Ariel stepped deeper into the grove, squaring her shoulders. She stretched out her other arm, palm open. The earth responded: another vine rose from the ground and curled snugly around it, as if bracing her for what she intended. She stared at both arms, swallowing hard, and muttered to herself, trying to find her courage.

  “Okay. Okay. Just… climb the world’s tallest ladder made of living vines. Easy. Totally fine. You’ve got this. You don’t have a choice…” She stopped short, the name Ariel resting on her tongue unbidden, and shook her head quickly, muttering again, “You don’t have a choice. Just do it.”

  With a sharp inhale, Ariel swung both arms upward in one fluid motion. The vines obeyed, snapping skyward and extending higher and higher until they found purchase far above. Branches groaned as the living cords wrapped tight, anchoring her to the canopy. Her eyes glowed with green fire as she tightened her grip, and then, without giving herself time to hesitate, she launched.

  The ground fell away in a blur. Her stomach lurched violently at the sudden ascent, the rush of air stealing her breath, but she held herself together, jaw clenched against the queasy pull in her gut. Higher and higher the vines carried her, the trunks of towering trees streaking past in dizzying motion. The light grew brighter as she neared the canopy, and only then did she command the vines to slow, her momentum bleeding away just enough to keep from shooting out above the tree line.

  Dangling high above, Ariel steadied her breath and let her eyes wander. The world spread open beneath her in a sweep of green, the grove below looking impossibly small. Between the thick lattice of leaves and branches, she glimpsed shafts of silvered light piercing the canopy, catching on the shimmer of dew. For a long moment she simply hung there, suspended by her vines, taking it all in—the living cathedral of trees, the soft sigh of wind through the leaves, the weight of the world pressing and yet holding her.

  She let out a shaky laugh. “Well… this is new,” she muttered to herself. “Dangling hundreds of feet in the air, clinging to vines like it’s the most normal thing in the world.” Her voice softened as her eyes swept the horizon. “It’s… beautiful though. Like the forest is endless. Like it could swallow me whole.”

  Her gaze traveled outward, scanning the edges of the forest for any sign of what they needed. “Come on… where are you hiding?” she whispered under her breath. She saw clusters of oaks with their wide, heavy crowns; spindly birches with white bark that gleamed in the light; a scattering of flowering trees painted in bursts of pink and gold. Beautiful, but not what she sought. Her eyes narrowed, sweeping slowly, carefully, searching for the familiar serrated leaves Fornaskr had described.

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  At last, she spotted them. There, not far from the grove’s edge, half-hidden by the taller trees, rose several Sallowthorns, their branches broad, their leaves distinct. Even from here she thought she could glimpse the faint gleam of fruit tucked between them. Her pulse quickened, hope sparking like fire in her chest.

  Locking her eyes on the cluster, she felt the green flame surge within her. Her gaze hardened, unblinking, and she whispered the command aloud, voice steady and sure: “Come to me.”

  The words carried into the living wood. A few seconds passed in silence… then the distant Sallowthorns began to tremble. Leaves shivered, branches rattled, and the earth itself seemed to groan. Ariel’s eyes blazed brighter, her breath coming sharp and even, and the trees responded. They shook more violently, their trunks stretching, creaking, bending at unnatural angles. Slowly, impossibly, they began to grow toward her.

  Higher and higher the Sallowthorns climbed, crowns lifting above their neighbors, angled as if answering her summons. At last their branches reached her height, swaying gently, their heavy fruit dangling just within reach.

  Ariel steadied herself, carefully unwinding one of the vines from the branch above until she dangled by only the other. She gave it a testing tug, making sure it would hold, then drew the freed vine forward. With a precise flick of her wrist, it lashed out toward the Sallowthorn crowns. The vine wove gracefully through the heavy clusters of fruit, looping around each until a dozen or more were bound together in its coils.

  “Easy now,” she muttered, adjusting her balance as the bundle swayed. Then, with a thought, she commanded her vine to lower her back toward the grove. The descent was slower than her climb, but still her stomach turned with the drop. At last her feet touched the mossy earth, and she released the vines with a relieved breath. The bound fruit dropped beside her in a neat pile.

  Fornaskr had watched the entire spectacle with wide eyes, his mouth slightly ajar. “By the roots…” he whispered. “You move the forest as though it were an extension of yourself.”

  Ariel smirked faintly, brushing her hair back from her damp forehead. “More like it moves for me when I ask it to. But… thank you.”

  She crouched and laid the fruits neatly at her side, studying them with intent focus. “All right,” she murmured. “If the leaves worked on the venom, the fruit should do the same, only stronger. But throwing them in whole won’t be enough. We need to break them down, release everything inside. Mash them into a paste, maybe thin it with water from our packs. Then I can channel my power through it, spread it across the roots, force it into the Eiranth’s veins.”

  She looked up at Fornaskr, determination sparking behind her exhaustion. “It’s going to take all of them. And it’s probably going to take everything I’ve got.”

  They set to work at once, crouching beside the pile of fruit. Fornaskr pulled a flat stone from his pack and set it on the ground, using another jagged rock as a pestle. He split open the first Sallowthorn fruit with practiced hands, its thick rind yielding to reveal a pulp that smelled sharp and herbal.

  “I’ve worked with these many times,” he said, crushing the fruit into a thick paste. “They’re potent even without your power, Minnidottir. We use them for fevers, bites, anything that lingers when nothing else will help.”

  Ariel rolled up her sleeves, taking another fruit in her hands. She pressed her thumbs into it until the rind broke and juice ran down her fingers.

  “It’s strange,” she admitted as she began to mash the pulp into the stone. “When I reached out to the Eiranth, I could feel its pain, like it was screaming inside me. But I also felt… like it trusted me to help it. Like it was asking.”

  Fornaskr glanced at her, eyes thoughtful as he ground the next fruit. “Then perhaps it knows who you are better than you know yourself.”

  She let out a soft, bitter laugh. “That wouldn’t take much. I still don’t even know if Ariel is my name. It could just be some trick of the corruption.”

  He shook his head firmly. “No. Whatever else is true, I saw your face when the word was spoken. It pierced you. That kind of truth can’t be faked.”

  They worked in silence for a while after that, the rhythmic crushing of fruit filling the grove. The air was sharp with the tang of the pulp, sticky juice slicking their hands. Ariel finally broke the quiet, her voice low. “Do you really think this will be enough? That we can cleanse something this corrupted with fruit and prayer?”

  Fornaskr pressed down hard on the paste, his arms straining. “I think we don’t have a choice but to try.”

  The last fruit was split and crushed, the pulp glistening on the flat stone. Ariel wiped the back of her wrist across her brow, then reached into her pack for the waterskin. She uncorked it and poured a thin stream over the mound of pulp, the juice mixing with the water into a thicker slurry. The smell was sharp, almost medicinal.

  Fornaskr used the pestle to stir, folding the mixture together with practiced ease. “The fruit alone is powerful,” he said, “but combined with the water it will spread more evenly, seep faster into the roots.”

  Ariel nodded, watching the mixture swirl under his hands. “And with my power threaded through it… maybe it’ll reach every vein the corruption has touched.” She set her hands to the edges of the stone, as if feeling the life within the pulp. “It has to.”

  He glanced at her, a faint, weary smile tugging at his mouth. “You sound as though you already believe it will.”

  Her lips twitched, though her eyes stayed serious. “Belief is all I have right now. Belief and these fruits.”

  He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he stirred. “Then let’s see if belief and fruit are enough to save an Eiranth.”

  Ariel rose to her feet, brushing pulp from her hands. Fornaskr shifted to the side, giving her space, and offered a quiet, steady, “Good luck, Minnidottir.”

  She gave a small nod in return, standing before the mound of mashed fruit. Under her breath she whispered to herself, fragments of courage stitched together: “You can do this. Don’t falter now. Just breathe. Just focus.”

  She lifted both hands, palms outstretched. Energy stirred through her veins like rushing sap, answering her silent command. The pulp quivered, then lifted, floating up in a mass that hovered obediently before her. Slowly, deliberately, she willed it forward until it drifted above the corrupted Eiranth.

  Her eyes flashed green, brighter with every breath, as she poured her power into the mixture. It began to glow. Faintly at first, then brighter, and brighter still. Wind whipped through the grove, tugging at her hair and clothes, building with the force of her effort. Ariel clenched her jaw, pouring more of herself into the fruit, the glow intensifying until the slurry swirled and widened, a spinning vortex of luminous green.

  Her feet left the ground, her body lifting several inches as if carried by the storm she was conjuring. Streaks of green fire burned in her eyes, searing and fierce. The vortex spun faster, the roar of power filling the grove, until at last Ariel thrust her hands downward.

  The glowing mixture plummeted, flooding into the Eiranth’s petals. A hiss like searing metal erupted, sharp and violent, as the corruption bucked against the cleansing force. Black ichor sizzled and writhed, and in Ariel’s mind, the screaming returned: louder, shriller, the same desperate cry as before. It tore at her skull as the venom was burned away, but she held fast, suspended in green flame, refusing to let go.

  The screaming rose higher, battering at her skull until she thought her head might split apart. Her mouth opened and, without fear, she matched it with her own voice. A scream ripped from her, not of terror but of defiance, pouring out with every ounce of strength she had. She drove the vortex deeper, commanding the mixture into the very roots of the Eiranth.

  The grove shook as the sound shifted. Beneath the shrieks, another rhythm emerged; a deep pulsing thrum. Ariel’s breath caught. It was the same sound she had felt the day she awoke on the great bloom, steady as a heartbeat. She looked, eyes blazing, and saw the silver veins threading the petals begin to glow once more.

  Another pulse. Louder. Then another, and another, faster now, light racing through the veins like fire in a web. The corruption pooled at the Eiranth’s base hissed and popped, black ichor bubbling as the bloom’s healing power surged back. With each beat, more venom burned away, sizzling into nothing. And then, with one final, thunderous pulse, the last of the ooze evaporated in a burst of steam and light.

  Ariel drifted back down, her feet touching the ground as her power ebbed. The grove shone with life renewed, every leaf trembling with vigor. The Eiranth’s veins glowed bright and silver, pulsing strong and whole again.

  She turned toward Fornaskr, who stood gleeful, awe and relief etched across his features.

  Her lips parted to speak, but a sharp pain knifed through her skull. She clutched her head and cried out as her vision fractured.

  Before she could take another breath, the world fell away, and she plunged into the black void of her mind.