The visions inundating Willow’s senses vanished.
Willow blinked as she felt the world begin to move forward in time once again.
The elves gasped at the sudden appearance of an enormous tree growing on the spot where Tristan had been buried.
Willow’s mind reeled as she turned to look at Raz.
He turned away from the water and gazed up at the enormous tree. Raz glanced at Willow and smiled. “It being here is very beautiful.”
She opened her mouth, but had no words to say.
“He doesn’t remember,” Ramai cautioned, “but now we carry some of his lost memories.”
Willow sat back on her heels and sobbed. The memories of another world raced through her and mixed yet again with what she now knew. In this life, she’d never met her grandfather. Yet Willow knew that her father’s sister had disappeared before she was born. Her name had been Arianna. Arianna Park. She’d been a jeweler in New Memphis.
Tristan’s mother was also named Arianna. A jeweler.
Willow gasped. “Tristan’s mom was my aunt ... he was my cousin!”
Suddenly, the pieces of her family puzzle snapped into place. Willow imagined her grandfather being exiled. Racing from a clicker and diving into the healing waters of the lake. Yet somehow, he’d almost immediately been launched to the dead city, where Ramai had found Raz.
Willow turned to Ramai, tears streaming down her face. “He’s my grandfather?” With a stunned expressed, Willow repeated herself. “Raz is my grandfather.” She glanced at what had been Tristan’s grave and a feeling of sad understanding washed over her. “No wonder Tristan always felt so much like one of my brothers. He’s my cousin.”
The dwarf patted her on the knee and smiled. “Why don’t you reacquaint yourself with your cousin. After all, if what the prophecies say is true, you and that tree have an inseparable bond. Go explore it.”
Willow stared at the tree and whispered, “How can any of this have happened? Is this one of your tricks?”
Ramai shook his head and with a tone of reverence, he whispered back, “No my dear, this is no trick. I think we’ve both witnessed something quite magical.”
With Ramai’s help, Willow stood and looked up at the giant canopy of the tree. She walked toward it and a sweet smell filled her sinuses as tiny blooms began to pop open in the boughs high above.
Many elves pointed up at the tree and remarked at the odd occurrence, but Willow was distracted by a humming.
She wasn’t sure if it was coming from the tree itself, the ground, or she was imagining it. Nonetheless, it got louder as she approached the tree.
Willow noticed an odd pattern in the bark, located at eye level. It reminded her of the etching she’d seen on Tristan’s medallion. She began to smile as she stared at the pattern growing on the tree. Just as Tristan had worn the medallion with the symbol of a tree, so did the giant tree. It was as if the tree were identifying itself to her.
As she approached, she felt a strange warmth in her core, and she felt the presence of something familiar. That same comfortable sensation Willow recalled when they’d ridden together. That safe feeling she experienced as she’d rested her head on Tristan’s back grew stronger the closer she got to the tree. It was as if the essence of Tristan permeated the air.
Sniffing deeply of the sweet flowers, she touched the bark, and Willow’s senses seemed to expand.
She felt the life all around her. The thrum of each heartbeat pulsed and Willow heard the gush of blood as it travelled through each person’s veins. The hum of life was all around her. The lake began to bubble as a white mist collected on its surface. Tendrils of fog snaked toward Willow and the tree, as the hum grew ever louder.
Something about the surrounding forest began to change.
Willow pressed her forehead against the bark of the tree and for the first time, she felt some control over her dream walking.
Instantly, she launched her mind high above the ground. Willow watched as the glowing roots of the new tree snaked outward through the soil in every direction.
The darkness of the Forbidding began to change. For miles and miles the roots sped toward the far ends of the forest.
The temperature began to rise, the inherent chill of the forest fled along with the malignant darkness that had been in place since the Great War. Screams echoed throughout the Forbidding as roaming patrols of wildlings were snatched by the glowing roots of the forest floor and pulled into the earth, never to be seen again.
Eventually, the roots reached their own natural borders and the entire forest that lay within the tree’s grasp closed itself off to others.
All along the concrete barrier, masses of vines, branches, and trees wove together, creating an impenetrable wall. The wall extended for hundreds of miles, encircling the lake and vast swaths of what had been known as the Forbidding.
Willow’s vision returned as the elves chattered excitedly at the changes that had already occurred at ground level.
Ramai approached, a smile on his face. “It seems as if the tree of life has found its attendant and cleaned up around here.” He scratched at his beard and studied the forest. “I don’t feel any hints of the sickness in the forest anymore.” He pointed up at the sky. “And look at the sun!”
Willow glanced up and shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun. Gone was the hazy orange globe she’d grown up with, and for the first time, she looked upon the glowing yellow of the sun, its color, no longer obscured by the haze that had lingered since the Great War.
Remembering what she’d seen, she turned to Ramai with an excited tone in her voice. “The wildlings are gone! I saw it in my dreamwalking–it just happened. At least the ones in the forest are gone.” Willow closed her eyes and gasped as she realized that she could actually feel what the roots of the tree of life felt. In the distance, she sensed a pack of werebits clawing through the dirt in search of edible roots. Somewhere further away she sensed the baying of a wolf as it called its brethren to chase a deer.
At the eastern edge of the forest, just west of the dead city, she sensed a pack of wildlings sniffing at the newly formed barrier blocking their entrance to the forest. One of them scratched at one of the vines and screamed as the skin on its fingers bubbled from the vine’s caustic sap.
“Ramai, I think the forest is safe for us to live in.”
Some of the nearby elves murmured excitedly and others cheered. Almost immediately, conversations about building a new home aboveground began.
Raz approached Willow and gazed up at her. “This is a good place to live. It’s a good time to be living.”
Willow laughed and nodded her agreement. “You’re absolutely right Grandp—” She interrupted herself, and the warmth she felt as she looked at the skinny wildling grew as Willow noticed some innate mannerisms that reminded her of Grandpa Lin. The love she felt for the memory of that old man easily transferred to this odd little creature, and she replied, “Raz, I’ll never doubt you again.”
The wildling pointed at Willow and smiled. “Raz told you before, and now you know he was right. This is a wonderful dispocalypse.”
Dreamwalking
Lilly’s blonde hair framed a pixie-like face with an infectious smile. She was only eight. Willow lifted a mug of dwarven ale from the unwieldy tray the child was carrying and returned Lilly’s smile. “Thank you, so much.” Willow motioned toward two dwarves sitting by the lakeshore. “Take the rest to those two. They’ll love you for it.”
Willow sipped at the ale, not realizing how much she’d missed the taste of the bitter brew she’d been introduced to in the underworld. Sitting on the ground, Willow raked her fingers through the warm grass and breathed in the pleasant aroma of the forest around her. Leaning back, she looked up at the canopy of the giant tree that only weeks ago had been a seed carried around by one of her best friends who turned out to be her cousin. She sighed contentedly. Among all of the things that she could now see and hear, the one that brought her the mo
st comfort was the sense of Tristan within the tree. She felt his presence and it reminded her of his kind, unassuming ways.
Willow’s gaze danced across the protective fence that some elves had erected around the tree that everyone now called the Tree of Life. After all, with the birth of the tree, life was reborn in the forest. Made again in the way that felt natural and right. As the tree’s attendant, Willow found herself capable of hearing and seeing almost anything that occurred within the reach of the majestic tree.
She didn’t even need to close her eyes to sense a group of elves put the finishing touches on one of the new homes they’d built.
The only thing that she’d asked of the others was that they not cut down any tree from the forest. It was fine to collect wood from deadfalls, cull dead branches, or weave the living vines that grew everywhere in the forest.
The buildings that began to appear were seamlessly woven into the forest itself. Vines clung to the scaly bark of the buildings, cloaking them in a camouflage of greenery. Each building was constructed to look like a naturally occurring structure. Even the roofs were made from a tightly meshed weaving of living greenery. The natural composition of the homes blended perfectly with the background of the forest. The homes were so well integrated into the forest, it would be easy for a person who was unaware to pass right by one without even knowing they were there.
It wasn’t just Willow who sensed the mood of the woods or appreciated the green tranquility. Something about being an elf had given them all an innate sense of woodcraft and forest husbandry.
However, for the dwarves, the forest was different. After the forest had been cured, the dwarves were welcome to visit anytime they chose, but few did. Having lived for so many years underground, the forest and the open skies seemed unnatural to the dwarves, for them it wasn’t a place of comfort. Nonetheless, Ramai regularly sent ambassadors from the stone city to visit.
Tiny Lilly took the two large ales to the Rockfeist brothers.
“Excuse me Mister Rockfist,” she said, “I have a surprise for you.”
“It’s Rockfeist, little one,” Isaac replied, and looked up at Lilly. A broad smile grew on his bearded face as he asked, “Is that what I think it is?” He lifted one of the mugs, drained the foamy drink and let out a tremendous burp. “Ah, now that’s a thing of beauty!”
Fiddling with a long pole and string, Eli glanced up at Lilly and groaned as he shielded his eyes from the sky. “How do you people do it? Don’t you get dizzy, not having a proper roof over your head? It just ain’t right, I tell you.”
Lilly offered Eli his drink, and like his brother, he drained the mug and blew a kiss to the tiny elf. “Thank you, my darling. I’ll forever remember your gentle kindness and write songs in your honor because of it.”
The small elf laughed as she gathered the mugs and raced away with blushing cheeks.
Isaac yelled with excitement as his pole bent nearly in half, “I’ve got something! You hear me, I caught something huge!”
One of the elves scurried over to try and help, but Isaac yanked on the line and a foot-long trout sprang from the water and landed in Eli’s lap.
The fish twisted and bounced around in the dwarf’s lap, finally smacking Eli in the face and jumping back into the water. Eli sputtered with indignation, “I’ve been cornobbled!”
The elf stared at the younger of the Rockfeist brothers. “What the hell are you talking about? The fish managed to spit the hook out is all.”
Eli grumbled and wiped his face as Isaac laughed and tried to explain, “It’s when a fish smacks you in the face.” Isaac hitched his thumb at Eli. “My fish smacked him right in the kisser with his tail, so he’s most certainly been cornobbled quite properly, I’d say.” He turned to Eli and groused, “Maybe next time you’ll hold onto the slippery beastie.”
The elf rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Sometimes I think you dwarves make words up just to confuse me.”
As the sun crawled lower on the horizon, Willow smiled as her focus drifted from the idyllic lakeshore and she closed her eyes, letting her mind’s eye open and sending a small part of herself past the borders of the forest.
Willow’s vision raced arrow-like to the east. Far below, the forest became a green blur as she rocketed across her domain and beyond.
The sun set rapidly as the miles unfolded and the stone desolation of the dead city loomed ahead.
Unlike what Willow had experienced when she’d walked through the devastated remains of ancient New York, the crumbling city was seething with nighttime activity.
The red fire of forges burned brightly as twisted and bent pieces of the ancient city were reclaimed by its new inhabitants.
Crude metal weapons began to appear in abundance among the wildlings, and even though their numbers were no longer being fed by the Dominion to the south, the population seemed to be growing.
With the forest sealed from them, the wildlings were forced to roam further than ever before. Willow shifted her vision to follow the streams of wildlings exploring the icy wastelands of the north.
Even through her mind’s eye, she could sense the bitter cold of the elements as the wind froze the skin and the reflected light of the overhead moon dazzled the senses.
Many of the wildlings died due to exposure on the desolate ice sheets, but for those who managed to reach it, they found a refuge within the ancient blue ice of the mile-thick glaciers.
Willow pushed her vision toward those ancient glaciers as she’d done a dozen times before. Yet as with every previous attempt, something within the deep-blue ice repelled her approach. It was almost like a wall, and no matter how hard she mentally pushed, Willow couldn’t pierce it. Certainly not in dreamwalker form.
Her eyes flicked open and the sweet aroma of flowers and the pine-scented forest filled her with their comforting bouquet.
Once again, Willow closed her eyes and concentrated on the area to her south and west.
Willow’s vision raced across the Capitol District borders of the Dominion and scanned the streets for the telltale sign of the governor’s carriage.
It was an ostentatious golden creation, upon which the familiar red and green crest was emblazoned. Spying it at the governor’s mansion, Willow sought the dark greasy feeling of malice that marked the presence of the governor.
In her dreamwalking, Willow had sought the governor multiple times, and every time she found him, the dark aura of something terrible cloaked the man.
Even though Willow had never seen the man in real life, all reports stated that he was handsome beyond belief and a charismatic speaker.
Yet the visions she’d experienced of the governor were anything but. All she saw was a wisened old man, ancient beyond belief, bent and shriveled, with coal-black eyes and flaming pupils.
And any time she found the governor, his son Karl was at his side. Almost as if one didn’t exist without the other.
Willow hunted through the governor’s mansion, flying through walls and hidden chambers, seeking the malevolent presence she associated with the governor, yet as she sniffed out the greasy black sensation, she was led back outside.
Past the stable and into a stone building with no obvious entrance, the smell of death permeated the darkness as Willow pushed her vision downward.
Spiraling down countless stairs, Willow guided her vision into a hidden chamber deep underground.
Willow’s vision advanced toward the center of the chamber, and for the first time, something kept her from approaching the governor.
As she mentally pushed against the flexing barrier, her attempt to get closer was rebuffed. Without warning, a series of torches that lined the chamber all burst into flame, and a macabre scene unfolded.
A giant statue of an open-mouthed demon occupied the center of the dank chamber. Flames ignited within the statue’s eyes, reminding Willow of the governor’s own pupils.
A loud groan echoed through the cavern, and Willow’s attention was drawn to Karl lying a
t the base of the idol.
Blood seeped from a wound in his neck and trailed into the open maw of the dark idol, forming a sticky pool.
Standing above Karl was the governor, his black aura pulsing to the rhythm of Karl’s slowing heartbeat, the sound of it amplified loudly throughout the chamber.
With the last of Karl’s lifeblood draining from him, a dark aura began to pulse from the stone idol, as if it too had come to life. The governor stooped even lower as he dipped his claw-like hand into his son’s pool of blood.
Suddenly, the blood ignited and a swarm of flames enveloped both the governor and his son.
Karl’s dying scream seemed a mere whisper as laughter echoed through the chamber.
As the laughter got louder, the smell of blood and sulfur permeated the air, and Willow’s vision was pushed further back.
As the flames died, all that remained of Karl were ashes that floated in the air. The dark aura surrounding the governor pulsed with renewed power, and as he turned away from the idol, Willow saw not an old man who was on his last days.
The governor wore Karl’s stiff posture and haughty expression. The governor’s face turned toward the entrance to the chamber as if to stare at her. At first, it was Karl’s face that Willow saw, but for an instant, Karl’s face shimmered and another’s appeared. The eyes flashed brightly with unearthly fire and with a snarl and a dismissive gesture, her vision was instantly sent flying from the chamber.
Willow’s eyes blinked open and the bitter taste of sulfur coated her tongue.
She shivered as the image of the governor’s snarling face haunted her, it reminded her of an image she’d seen at the Academy. Even though the governor looked to have taken on the form of his son, Willow had spied the truth underneath that visage. It was a face that belonged to someone who didn’t belong in this world anymore.
The fiery-eyed face was identical to the image she’d seen of Bedsem Vanden-Plas, the first governor of the Dominion, someone who’d supposedly died hundreds of years ago.
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