Chapter 127

Elarion didn’t look particularly thrilled about heading out with me to Noraethil to investigate the Weeping Gallows. Master Iriandor had framed it as a training exercise, which seemed to take some of the edge off - but not much.

He gathered his kit with practiced efficiency, and we set out just before noon. I let him take point. He knew the land better than I did, and right now, he wasn’t exactly in the mood to be questioned.

We traveled mostly in silence. He moved a few yards ahead, following a trail I couldn’t see - his steps sure, unhesitating, guided by something beyond my perception. I watched the way he read the world - the tilt of his head, the slight shifts in his path, the way his gaze flicked to things that meant nothing to me.

At one point, he veered sharply south without breaking stride.

“Why the change in direction?” I asked.

“Spiders,” was his simple response.

“Spiders?”

He let out a slow, frustrated breath. “Grave-weavers.”

That got my attention. “How did you know they were there?”

He didn’t look back. “It was on the thir’vae. The waymark.”

I frowned, glancing around the trail, the trees, the stones. Nothing stood out. Nothing looked marked. Nothing looked different at all. “Huh. I didn’t see anything,” I said.

He half-turned, just enough to glance at me over his shoulder. “Maybe you should pay better attention,” he snapped. There was bite to it. Not sharp enough to cut - but enough to sting.

We continued on in silence, the distance between us feeling just a little wider than before.

* * *

We made camp well past sunset. Elarion never slowed, his stride steady and certain even beneath the thick canopy where the last of the light had long since died. He moved like he could see the path laid out before him.

I could see well enough myself. A perk of being a god, I assumed - though I wasn’t sure if it was something inherent to divinity or a gift left behind by Lunythera. I’d never asked. I wasn’t exactly on speaking with most of the others, and I hadn’t found one I trusted enough to start that conversation.

I had trusted Yveth. Completely. She was the only god who had never lied to me. I’d been on my way to trusting Zelmyra too - strange as her Faith made her, at least I could follow the logic of it. But the rest? Too many lies. Too many manipulations. High Witan or God-King, it didn’t matter. I kept my guard up around all of them.

Elarion seemed content with a cold camp, but I built a small fire anyway. Just enough to warm food and push back the dark. He accepted the nut bread and thick soup I prepared without comment, eating in silence before stringing up a hammock between two trees.

I took first watch. And second. And third. Sleep had become… optional for me at this point.

The forest settled into itself around us. The air held a quiet warmth, carrying the scent of earth and crushed herbs. A nightbird called somewhere in the distance, answered faintly by another. Branches creaked softly overhead as the breeze moved through them, and something small rustled through the undergrowth - careful and deliberate. Fireflies drifted lazily between the trees, their light blinking in slow, patient rhythms.

Elarion woke just before dawn and a few minutes later he’d packed his kit. We set out again without ceremony.

His mood had shifted overnight. The sharp edge was gone - not softened, exactly, but no longer cutting at everything around him. We didn’t talk much, but the silence felt less hostile.

“Issa’s going to paint me a picture,” I said, keeping my tone light. “We went to Master Edevane’s tower for inspiration. You and I should go sometime. It’s… very different than this. Not like anything I’ve seen before.”

“Mmhm,” he replied. Not angry. Just distant.

I let my gaze drift through the trees as we walked, watching the forest while I searched for something worth saying. “I don’t think Brinja would ever it it, but she misses you. She’s… struggling a bit. I don’t know if I can help. Not sure if I should.”

I exhaled softly. “That’s the problem with life, I guess. You never really figure it out. You just get older and hope you’re making the right choices. Half the time you’re guessing. The other half, you don’t even realize you’re wrong until it’s already done.”

The world shifted. Faith stirred around me - subtle at first.

“Elarion,” I called.

He took two more steps before slowing, then turned toward me.

There was a faint echo of footsteps where no one walked. A flicker at the edge of sight. The brush of breath where the air had been still. And then Vel stepped into existence in front of me.

She met my eyes, something urgent and unyielding in her gaze. “Tansy is gone.”

* * *

Without thinking, I cast my senses outward and sank into my Faith-scape. Even though the ferals had begun to generate their own Faith, mine still threaded through them - strong, familiar, unmistakable. Finding them was easy. Like spotting the moon in a sky full of stars.

Vel. Thae. Moss. Clo. Nim.

I could feel them - more echo than presence, but enough. Thae and Moss were withdrawn into their demesnes, their signatures muted behind the veil of the Interstitium. The others were out in the world, their Faith faint but steady, moving, living.

“When did you last see her?” I asked, pulling myself back to the moment.

“Before Tib’s party,” Vel said. “She was angry, but not reckless.”

Her copper hair fell in thick, unruly waves around her face, catching the faint light beneath the trees. Her eyes - sharp, red irises ringed in darker shadow - searched mine with focused intensity. She was beautiful in a way that felt almost traditional, but the longer you looked, the more the wildness showed through - untamed, unsoftened, entirely her own.

Her clothing had changed. Gone was the fitted dark tunic with its high collar. In its place, a simple leather vest, worn open over bare skin. Her pants were old, patched in a dozen places, but still held together by stubborn durability. She stood barefoot, claws digging shallow grooves into the forest floor. The frayed braided cord still circled her wrist - Brinja’s work from four years ago.

“Her Faith hasn’t been released,” I said, more to myself than to her. “Mine hasn’t either. She’s still alive.”

Unless someone like Nyssira had taken her. Absorbed her. Would that take my Faith with it?

I shoved the thought aside before it could take root. I wasn’t going there. Not yet.

“Where?” I asked.

“Her demesne,” Vel replied. “But I sensed her far to the east last week. Clo is searching there now.”

“Good,” I said, giving a short nod. “Let me know when she finds her.”

Not if. When.

The goddess of coordinated destruction turned to leave.

“Vel,” I called.

She paused, looking back at me.

“Thank you. For telling me.” I stepped forward and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

There was the briefest hesitation - just enough for her to it - before she gave a short, curt nod. Then she was gone.

I watched the place where Vel had stood for a moment longer, as if something of her might still linger there. Then I exhaled, turned, and continued through the woods.

Elarion fell into step beside me, quiet for a few paces before speaking. “Is Tansy okay?” His voice carried concern - unguarded and genuine.

“I hope so,” I said. “What’s far to the east?”

“Caldris. Morentis. The Dragon Isles,” he replied. “Depends on how far you mean.”

I nodded. “When I’m done here, I’m heading to Caldris. There are rumors of a cult - people who say the Weeping Gallows can take away your pain. Fix you. They call themselves the Covenant of Mercy.”

“That’s insane”, disbelief flashing across his face. “People will kill themselves believing that.”

“Yes,” I said quietly. “They will.”

I drew in a slow breath, letting it out through my nose. “I don’t know if it’s connected. I don’t know if Tansy went there. But if anyone was going to find trouble in a place like that…” I trailed off, shaking my head. “It would be her.”

I reached out and gripped his shoulder, firm enough to anchor the moment. “That’s why we need to understand what’s happening with these trees,” I said. “We don’t get to ignore it.” I met his eyes, steady and certain. “We have an obligation to protect people.”

I held his gaze a second longer. “Even when they don’t want us to.”

* * *

Noraethil was easy to miss - more so now than ever.

Like most elven villages, it wasn’t built so much as grown. The homes rose from the forest itself - massive trunks thirty or forty feet across, their short, dense branches draping down in thick curtains of leaves. From a distance, they looked like gentle hills, indistinguishable from the surrounding woods unless you knew what to look for.

I counted twenty of them. Each would have held three generations, maybe more - but elves kept small families. One child was common. Two was rare. Six people to a house, maybe. Just over a hundred souls, all told.

And now nothing. No footsteps on the packed earth paths. No voices. No work. No animals. Even the birds had gone quiet.

The first Weeping Gallows stood at the edge of the village closest to us. Its bark was dark and twisted, split open in places where thick, red sap oozed slowly down. Crimson leaves shimmered faintly in the dim light, hiding branches studded with hooked thorns. Two clusters of knots in the trunk resembled faces - a trick of the mind as it tried to find order in chaos.

Elarion and I followed the main path as it wound between the homes. Another Gallows waited behind one of the living houses, rooted deep into what had once been a yard. Like the other, the knots in the bark looked vaguely face-like.

Then another. And another. Each one creepier than the last.

Elarion didn’t say a word. His eyes stayed fixed on them as we ed, horror tightening his expression.

And then we saw it.

At the center of the village, an entire home had become a Weeping Gallows.

It dwarfed the others. Most of the Gallows we’d seen had trunks maybe three feet across. Even the one in my bailey - likely the oldest - was only eight. This one… this one had been a house. Thirty feet wide, easily. The windows stared out like hollow, sightless eyes. The doorway had split and warped into something that looked disturbingly like a scream frozen in wood.

The hairs on my arms stood on end.

Elarion took an involuntary step back.

I studied the twisted structure, hoping - quietly, uselessly - that whoever had lived there had made it out before this thing had taken root.

I stepped closer.

Elarion grabbed my arm.

I met his gaze. “Stay. Here.”

He nodded weakly.

I gave the house a wide berth, circling it slowly. The Gallows were thickest here - ten within thirty yards, their presence crowding the space. Another ten were scattered throughout the rest of the village.

As I rounded the far side, something moved.

A figure crouched on the dirt path behind the house. Thin. Filthy. Back turned toward me.

“Are you alright?” I called.

They turned slowly - a young elf. Their clothes hung in tatters, barely clinging to their frame. Hair matted with dirt, leaves, and twigs. Their eyes were wide and unfocused. They crouched beside a shallow puddle, the front of their clothing soaked and smeared with mud.

From this distance, I couldn’t tell if they were a boy or a girl.

Elarion rushed up beside me, but I held out a hand to stop him. I’d dealt with frightened people before. The last thing I needed was to startle them.

I set my staff - Unity - on the ground.

They didn’t react. They just watched me, eyes tracking every movement.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, moving forward slowly. Arms loose at my sides. Hands open. “Is there anyone else here?”

No answer. They shifted, still kneeling, turning to face me fully.

“Are you hungry?” I asked. “We have food.”

Something wasn’t right. The village should have been empty. And a child alone in a place like this should have been terrified.

Instead, they were watching.

Still, I couldn’t walk away. Not if there was even a chance they needed help.

I lowered myself to my knees beside them. “I’m Seth,” I said - then corrected myself. “Enae thalenir Seth.”

Nothing.

Slowly, carefully, I reached into my cloak and pulled out a piece of nut bread. “Vaelren venar? Enae aleth.” I held it out.

Their gaze flicked from me to the bread and back again.

I extended it further, pressing it gently into their hand.

They took it. Turned it over. Studied it.

Then they reached for my hand.

They turned that too, examining it like it was something unfamiliar - as if they’d never seen a hand before despite having two of their own. Their fingers traced up my forearm - softly feeling the shape and contours. The mithril plates shifted faintly beneath the leather.

Then their grip tightened.

Their hands warped - flesh twisting into thorned brambles that lengthened and coiled around my arms. I jerked back, but too late. The vines had already wrapped fully around me, climbing higher.

They couldn’t pierce the armor - but my neck wasn’t armored.

I strained against them, forcing my arms outward as far as they would go and summoned my staff. It cracked into existence like lightning - driving straight through the young elf’s torso.

Where flesh should have been, it split into tangled wood and thorns.

I stomped down on their thigh to pin them and twisted the staff. The body tore apart with a dry, splintering crack. The upper half clung to me, still writhing, their face unraveling into more twisted vines.

Drums tore through the air as I summoned my mana. “We’re not gonna take it,” I sang as flame roared down my arms.

The brambles blackened and burst, popping as they burned. The creature screamed - a harsh, grinding sound like a saw tearing through wood. I kicked the upper half free and turned, unleashing a flood of fire that reduced the lower half to ash.

Elarion rushed forward, blade drawn.

“Wait,” I called.

He stopped, eyes flicking between me and the thrashing mass on the ground.

My flames died with the song as I approached it. What remained no longer resembled anything humanoid - just a writhing knot of vines and thorns.

“Thalen vae enae? Do you understand me?” I asked.

It launched at me like a coiled spring.

Flame erupted from my mouth, consuming it midair. Silence followed.

“Thren,” Elarion said. “We have a problem.”