Chương 121: Chapter 19: Roots of the Grove - Part I

Kaelen POV By the time Garrick and I leave the council chamber, the evening has settled over Fallowspire, and although neither of us speaks as we make our way through the corridors of the keep, I can feel the conversation we have just left behind following us as clearly as our footsteps echo across the stone floor.

The King is coming, and no matter how calmly I had accepted the news in front of Havlar and the council, the thought has remained with me ever since, turning over in my mind as I try to understand what it might mean for the Grove and the people who have made their home within it.

We pass through the gates of the keep and step into the cooler evening air, where the city is slowly settling into its familiar rhythm as merchants close their stalls, people make their way toward their homes and the lamps along the larger streets begin pushing back the growing darkness.

Garrick walks beside me without saying anything for a while, and I am grateful for the silence because I know he has noticed that something is still bothering me, yet he understands me well enough by now not to force the matter before I am ready to speak about it.

"You were quieter than usual in there," he eventually says as we turn toward the road leading into the eastern district. I glance toward him.

"I was listening." A faint smile touches his face, though it disappears almost immediately when he sees that I am not joking.

"That's not what I meant." I let out a slow breath and look ahead again, watching the people moving through the streets before us as we continue toward the Grove.

"I know." For a few moments, neither of us says anything, but Garrick remains beside me, waiting without pressing me further, and eventually I find myself speaking because keeping the thoughts contained any longer feels more difficult than simply saying them aloud.

"I meant what I said."

"About the King being welcome?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I know him." Garrick's expression shifts slightly at that, and I can see that he understands what I am trying to say even before I continue. Neither of us knows the King personally. I understand the position he holds, and I understand that Havlar answers to the Crown, but that does not mean I know what kind of man will eventually walk through the gates of Fallowspire or what he truly expects to find when he reaches the Grove.

"I don't think he's coming here to harm us," I say, keeping my eyes on the street ahead as we continue walking.

"If that were his intention, I doubt we would have received a letter announcing his visit." Garrick nods, though I can already sense the question forming in his mind, "But?" I look toward him, and despite everything else occupying my thoughts, I feel a faint smile touch my lips.

"You've become very fond of that word."

"It usually means you're about to say what you're actually thinking." That makes the smile disappear almost as quickly as it came, because he is right, "People don't always need to intend harm to cause it," I tell him, and Garrick grows quiet again as he considers the words.

"The King may come with nothing but curiosity, but curiosity can still become dangerous when it is directed toward something people don't understand, especially when that person has the power to decide that he wants answers no matter how difficult those answers are to find." My thoughts drift back toward the council chamber and the discussion surrounding Garrick's Communion, because that remains the question I cannot entirely push aside.

"The Communion is still bothering you," Garrick says after a while.

"Yes."

"If he asks?"

"I'll tell him exactly what I told the council. I don't know whether it can happen again, and even if it can, I don't know how to make it happen." Garrick nods, though his gaze shifts briefly toward his hands before returning to the street.

"You brought me there."

"I brought you to the Grove, but I didn't give you what happened afterward." That distinction matters more to me than I had realized until the council meeting forced me to say it aloud. The Grove accepted Garrick in a way neither of us had expected, and although I had guided him through what I understood of the process, I had never truly believed that the outcome belonged to me. The Grove is alive. That has always been the simplest truth of it.

It grows in ways I cannot predict, makes choices I do not always understand and has already given more to the people around me than I ever believed possible when I first planted the Silverwood within that abandoned garden. I am its Grovekeeper, and the responsibility that title carries means everything to me, but responsibility is not the same as ownership.

"The King's arrival will bring more attention to the Grove," I say as we finally enter the quieter streets of the eastern district.

"Even if everything goes well, people will begin asking more questions after he leaves."

"They already ask questions."

"Not enough of them." Garrick looks toward me. I gesture toward the buildings around us.

"Most people in Fallowspire know the Grove exists, but knowing that something exists and having the King himself travel across the kingdom to see it are two very different things. Once that happens, it becomes impossible to pretend that the Grove is simply another unusual part of the city." Garrick doesn't disagree, and together we continue toward the abandoned garden as the streets gradually become quieter around us.

The familiar walls eventually come into view, and before I can even see the Silverwood rising beyond them, I feel the presence of the Grove settle against my senses with that quiet familiarity I have grown accustomed to over the past months. Somewhere during the time since I arrived in Fallowspire, carrying the ashes of my old life behind me and having no certainty about what awaited me beyond the city gates, this place had become home.

Gale moves ahead as we approach the entrance, his attention briefly shifting toward something beyond the walls before Garrick pushes open the old gate and we step inside. The moment I cross the threshold, some of the tension I have carried since leaving the keep begins to loosen, not because the King's arrival suddenly matters less, but because standing beneath the trees reminds me exactly why I need to think about what comes next rather than simply waiting for it to arrive.

The Silverwood rises above the center of the garden, its pale trunk catching what remains of the evening light while the Heartwoods stand around it, their branches spreading farther than they had when they first sprouted and their roots reaching deep beneath the soil. The Grove has changed considerably over the past months, yet as I look at it now, I find myself wondering whether I have allowed that change to become too comfortable. I have spent months watching it grow. Perhaps it is time to help it grow further.

Lorcan is sitting beneath one of the Heartwoods when I notice him, his back resting against the trunk while one of his hands remains pressed against the bark as though he is listening to something moving beneath the surface. A short distance away, Elyrion stands with Aibell, speaking quietly while she follows the movements he demonstrates with her hands, although both of them look toward us the moment Garrick and I enter. Lorcan opens his eyes and studies us for a moment before saying, "You took your time."

"We were at the keep," I reply as Garrick and I make our way toward them.

"So, I gathered." I look toward Elyrion, and whatever he sees in my expression causes the faint amusement on his face to disappear.

"We need to talk." Lorcan pushes himself away from the Heartwood as Elyrion says something quiet to Aibell before directing her back toward the others deeper within the garden, and once she has gone, the four of us move away from the main paths until the voices of the Grove become distant enough that we can speak without worrying about being overheard.

When we stop beneath the branches of another Heartwood, I look between Lorcan and Elyrion before telling them, "The King is coming to Fallowspire," and although neither of them immediately interrupts me, the change in their expressions makes it clear that they understand why Garrick and I have returned from the keep looking as though the meeting has left more behind than ordinary council business.

"Because of the Grove?" Elyrion asks, his gaze shifting instinctively toward the Silverwood.

"Yes." I explain what Havlar told us, beginning with the letter and the King's intention to travel to Fallowspire with his envoy and royal delegation before moving through the discussion that followed, while Garrick occasionally adds something when I move too quickly over a detail or mention the questions surrounding his Communion.

Lorcan listens without interrupting, though his attention gradually shifts from me toward the trees around us as the implications become clearer, while Elyrion remains almost completely still until I finally finish. For a while, the four of us stand beneath the Heartwood in silence. Elyrion is the one who eventually breaks it as he looks toward the Silverwood and asks, "What do you intend to do?"

I follow his gaze, allowing my eyes to settle on the tree that has changed my life more completely than any sword, spell or enemy ever could have managed.

"The same thing I said in the council chamber," I tell him.

"If the King comes peacefully, then he will be welcome here." Lorcan studies me for a moment before asking, "But you're not planning to simply wait for him." The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. I look back toward the Grove, feeling the quiet presence of the trees around me and thinking about everything Havlar's letter has set into motion.

"No." The answer comes without hesitation, and I realize that perhaps I have known what I wanted to do since the moment Garrick and I left the council chamber.

"The King may come peacefully, and I hope he does," I continue, turning toward the three of them, "but I don't know him, and I don't know what follows after he leaves. The Grove is going to draw more attention now whether we want it to or not, which means sitting here and waiting for everyone else to decide what happens next doesn't seem particularly wise." Garrick folds his arms across his chest.

"So, what are you suggesting?" My gaze moves from him to Elyrion, then Lorcan, before finally returning to the Silverwood.

"At dawn tomorrow," I say, already feeling the shape of the idea forming more clearly in my mind, "I want to try something with the Grove." For a while after I tell them what I have in mind, the four of us remain beneath the Heartwood without speaking, although the silence is not an uncomfortable one.

Lorcan and Elyrion both turn their attention toward the Grove as if seeing it differently now that they understand what I am considering, while Garrick studies me with the expression of someone who already knows that whatever has been forming in my mind since we left the keep is unlikely to be a simple matter. Lorcan is eventually the one who speaks.

"What exactly do you want to do?" I look toward the Silverwood, allowing my thoughts to settle before answering because the idea is clearer now than it was when Garrick and I first entered the Grove, yet I still don't want to pretend that I have every part of the ritual already understood.

"The Grove has grown since I planted the Silverwood, and the Heartwoods have grown with it, but we've mostly allowed that growth to follow its own course. I don't want to force anything upon them or make them grow into something they were never meant to become, but I think we can help them. Lorcan and I can give the Grove more mana than either of us could safely provide alone, and instead of directing that energy toward a particular change, we can allow the trees themselves to decide how best to use it."

Elyrion's gaze shifts back toward me, his expression thoughtful as he asks, "You intend to feed the Grove mana?"

"Not quite," I reply, shaking my head.

"If we simply pour mana into the Silverwood and hope for the best, there is no telling how the energy will move once it reaches the roots. The Silverwood and Heartwoods are connected now, and although I can feel that connection whenever I reach for the Grove, I still don't fully understand how deeply it extends or what might happen if we introduce more power than the trees are accustomed to receiving.

The mana needs to move through the Grove rather than gathering in one place, and Lorcan and I will have to guide it carefully enough that we support what is already there instead of overwhelming it." Garrick glances toward the ground beneath our feet as though trying to imagine the roots spreading through the soil below the garden.

"And where do Elyrion and I fit into this?" I turn toward him and then toward Elyrion, because their presence is the reason I have begun to think the ritual might actually be possible rather than merely another idea that sounds reasonable until the moment I try to put it into practice.

"The two of you are connected to the Grove differently than Lorcan and I are. I am its Grovekeeper, and Lorcan is a druid who has begun forming his own bond with it, but both of you have the connection created through your roles as Groveknights. Garrick underwent the Communion here, and although I still don't completely understand everything that changed within him afterward, the Grove recognizes him in a way it doesn't recognize an ordinary person.

Elyrion has spent far longer walking the path of a Groveknight, and even if this Grove is not the one that first shaped him, he understands what it means to become part of the balance between a living place and the people sworn to protect it." Elyrion considers my words for several moments before nodding slowly.

"You want us to stabilize the connection."

"Yes. Lorcan and I will guide the mana into the Silverwood and Heartwoods, but once the energy begins moving through the trees, you and Garrick will help keep the flow balanced through your connection with the Grove. Think of it less as us pouring power into the trees and more as all four of us becoming part of the same current, with the Grove remaining at the center.

If Lorcan and I are the ones providing the strength, the two of you will help make sure that strength moves where the Grove can actually use it instead of allowing it to build until the ritual becomes unstable." Garrick folds his arms across his chest as he considers the explanation, while Lorcan's attention moves between me and the Silverwood as though he is already attempting to picture the ritual taking shape.

"And if the Grove rejects what we're trying to do?"

"Then we stop," I tell him, because there is no other answer I am willing to give.

"This isn't something we can force upon it. If the trees resist the connection or if either Lorcan or I sense that the mana is beginning to move in a way we cannot safely control, we end the ritual immediately. I want the Grove to grow stronger, but I don't intend to destroy what we already have in an attempt to make it something more useful." For a moment, Elyrion watches me without saying anything, and when he finally speaks, his voice carries a quiet seriousness that makes the others listen.

"That distinction matters, Kaelen. There is a difference between strengthening something because you wish to protect it and shaping it into a weapon because you are afraid of what might come." I know immediately why he has said it, because the King's arrival has been sitting heavily enough in my mind that I could almost see where my own thoughts might lead if I allowed caution to become fear. The Grove is not Nemain.

It is not a blade I can sharpen because I expect someone might one day try to take it from me, and neither is it an army that I can order to stand between myself and every danger that enters Fallowspire.

"I don't want a weapon," I tell him, meeting his eyes.

"I want the Grove to be strong enough to remain what it already is." Something in his expression eases, and after another moment, he gives a small nod.

"Then that is something I can stand behind." Lorcan lets out a quiet breath before looking toward me again.

"When do you want to attempt it?"

"At dawn tomorrow." Garrick glances toward the darkening sky above the garden.

"Why wait until morning?"

"Because I'd prefer to see what we're doing." He gives me a flat look, and the faint amusement that passes through Lorcan's expression tells me he is wondering whether I am being entirely serious, although I am only partly joking. A ritual involving the Silverwood, every Heartwood in the Grove and more mana than the four of us have ever attempted to work together is not something I want to begin in the darkness, when even a simple mistake could take longer to notice.

"Besides," I continue, "you came here directly from training, and unless you've suddenly developed a method of recovering mana without resting, I'd rather you have some time before we begin." Garrick straightens slightly.

"I wasn't going to collapse."

"I didn't say you were."

"You implied it."

"I implied that you should rest." Lorcan gives a quiet laugh, and even Elyrion's stern expression softens as Garrick looks between the three of us, apparently realizing that he has little chance of winning an argument when everyone else has already decided on the same thing.

We spend the next several minutes discussing where each of us will stand when the ritual begins and how we might respond if the mana moves differently than expected, although there are limits to how much we can prepare when none of us has ever attempted anything quite like it before. Eventually, however, the basic structure begins to take shape, and as the conversation progresses, I find some of the uncertainty that has followed me from the keep finally settling into something I can act upon.

I cannot control the King's arrival, nor can I decide what questions he will bring with him or what the Crown might eventually ask of the Grove, but I can make certain that I have not simply waited for those questions to arrive before considering what needs to be done.

If the Grove can grow stronger, then I want to give it the opportunity, and if it chooses to use that strength in ways I cannot yet predict, then I will learn alongside it rather than pretending that being its Grovekeeper means I already possess every answer.

"We should get some rest," I eventually say, looking between the three of them as the last details of the ritual settle into place.

"We'll begin before sunrise, while the city is still quiet." Elyrion gives a nod, and Lorcan turns toward the deeper paths of the Grove, but before any of us can begin walking, hurried footsteps break through the calm of the garden and draw all of our attention toward one of the paths leading away from the Silverwood.

Aibell appears first, moving quickly between the trees, and Ciara follows beside her with Merrow close behind, while Eammon and Aine race ahead of the adults with enough urgency that Garrick immediately straightens and I instinctively look beyond them for whatever might have sent the entire group running toward us.

Ciara's living prosthetic moves with her naturally as she runs, and although I still occasionally find myself remembering the woman who had once struggled simply to move without assistance, there is no trace of that helplessness in her now as she reaches us with the others. Eammon arrives first and immediately points toward the deeper part of the Grove.

"Kaelen, there's a ghost." For a moment, I simply look at him, because there are many things I have expected to hear while standing beneath a Heartwood and discussing a ritual that might change the Grove forever, yet the announcement that a ghost has apparently decided to take up residence among the trees is not one of them. Beside him, Aine nods with complete seriousness, her small hand gripping Ciara's as though she has run all the way here to ensure that I understand her brother is not exaggerating.

"You saw a ghost?" I ask, and although I try to keep my voice serious, I can already feel the faint amusement threatening to creep into it.

"We saw him," Eammon insists, while Aine immediately adds that they heard him as well, and the certainty in both their voices is impressive enough that I might have taken them more seriously if I had not assumed they had spent the afternoon frightening one another with stories beneath the trees. I look toward Aibell, expecting her to dismiss the matter before I have to, but she doesn't smile.

Instead, her expression remains uncertain as she glances briefly toward Ciara, and that small exchange is enough to make my amusement fade.

"What exactly did you see?" I ask, looking between them.

"We didn't see him clearly," Aibell says after a moment, "but there was something near the Silverwood." Ciara nods before I can respond, her attention moving toward the same part of the Grove that Eammon had pointed toward.

"And we heard someone." The words make me look more carefully at her.

"Someone?"

"Someone laughing," Merrow says quietly, and when I turn toward her, I realize that the healer looks far less amused by the situation than the children do. Eammon immediately begins nodding again.

"I told you." Aine presses herself closer against Ciara as she adds, "And there was a sound."

"What kind of sound?" She hesitates before moving her hand as though holding something and tapping it gently against the ground.

"A stick." Garrick and I exchange a brief glance, while Lorcan turns his attention toward the deeper part of the Grove with considerably more seriousness than he had shown a few moments earlier. Even Elyrion, who has remained composed throughout the entire conversation, has grown still. I try to reach toward the Grove instinctively, searching for the same quiet awareness that has become familiar to me over the months, but I find nothing immediately alarming.

The trees do not feel threatened, and there is no sudden sense of danger moving through the connection I share with them, which leaves me uncertain about what the others could possibly have heard.

"I'll look into it," I finally say, and Eammon visibly relaxes as though the simple fact that I have agreed to investigate has solved the problem. Before either of the children can say anything else, however, I raise a hand and continue, "But first I have a ritual to perform." Eammon's relief immediately disappears.

"But Kaelen—""We're beginning at dawn, and the four of us have spent the last hour preparing for it. Unless this ghost intends to do something more serious than laugh beneath the Silverwood, I think it can wait until we're finished." Aine looks uncertainly toward the trees.

"What if he comes back?" I follow her gaze, and although I still believe there is almost certainly a reasonable explanation for what they heard, I cannot entirely dismiss the seriousness in the faces around me. Gale has been watching the same direction since they arrived, and even if he has not reacted as though there is danger within the Grove, his attention is clearly fixed on something that interests him.

"Then tell him I'll deal with him later," I say, and the words finally draw a small laugh from Aibell, which in turn causes some of the tension around us to ease. Ciara and Merrow remain less convinced than she is, however, and as the others begin talking among themselves about where they had heard the sound, I find my gaze drifting once more toward the Silverwood.

The garden is quiet, and the trees stand exactly as they always have beneath the deepening night, yet I cannot shake the feeling that something has changed within the Grove without my noticing. Whatever it is, I will find out. But not tonight. Tonight, the ritual still waits for us, and as I turn back toward the others, I make the decision to put the strange laughter aside until morning, trusting that whatever has hidden itself somewhere among the trees can remain there for a few more hours.

At dawn, we will see how far the Grove is willing to grow. And when the ritual is finished, I will find the ghost.