novelraw Chapter 113 : The Forest Weeps
Chapter 113 : The Forest Weeps
(Lyra POV)
The walk through the forest felt endless.
Selene’s sobs had faded into quiet whimpers, and Darius moved forward like a ghost—Rooga limp in his arms, the boy’s chest barely rising.
The air grew colder the deeper we went. The trees leaned closer, whispering in a language older than any of us.
By the time we reached the clearing, I could already see the faint golden light of Maori’s grove.
She was there—her vessel form—standing beneath the great tree, speaking with Elandra and Melissa.
They’d been discussing the expedition’s next route, their voices calm, patient.
But the moment Maori turned toward us, everything changed.
Her eyes widened—emerald light flashing through them as her gaze fell on Rooga.
The air trembled. The roots beneath the soil pulsed.
His mana—what little was left of it—was flickering like a candle in the wind.
And Maori could feel it.
“His life thread is thinning,” she whispered, and then her expression twisted into fury.
The ground shuddered. Leaves tore loose from the trees, spinning in the air like blades.
“How…” her voice deepened, layered, divine. “How could this happen?”
She turned her gaze upon us—Selene, Darius, and me—and her tone shook the grove.
“You—” she said, eyes burning. “You with hero’s mana, and you, the so-called greatest magician of the north—how could you let this child come to harm?!”
The ground erupted.
Roots burst upward, twisting and coiling through the air like serpents.
Two thick branches shot out—one wrapping around Darius’s throat, the other catching me before I could even move.
“Maori—!” Darius choked, trying to break free, but her power pressed harder.
Her voice roared through the grove, shaking the very earth.
“You were meant to protect
him!”I gasped, my feet leaving the ground as the branch tightened. “Listen to me—he’s still alive! We came to you for help!”
Her fury only grew. The forest pulsed red, the air thick with the scent of iron and sap.
Then, in the middle of that storm, she turned—her eyes softening as they fell upon Rooga.
The branches released us instantly.
We both collapsed to the ground, gasping.
Maori stepped forward and caught Rooga in her arms before Darius could react.
“Do not worry, my caretaker,” she whispered, her tone shifting from wrath to heartbreak. “I am here now. Nothing will hurt you again.”
Her light dimmed as she pressed her hand over his wound, green mana spilling into the air like mist.
The earth itself leaned toward her—roots wrapping gently around her feet, pulsing in rhythm with her heart.
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“Elandra,” she said quietly, her voice echoing through the grove. “Make sure no one comes near the tree.”
Elandra bowed instantly. “As you command.”
Melissa took her position beside her, hand on her sword, face grim.
Maori knelt by the great trunk and slowly pressed her palm against its bark.
“Return,” she murmured, her body beginning to glow faintly.
Her vessel—her human form—flickered like sunlight through leaves.
Then she was gone, sinking into the roots, her essence flowing into the tree itself.
The forest went silent.
Then came the sound—low, deep, and mournful.
The wind began to hum like a voice trying not to cry.
Leaves fell in slow spirals.
The branches drooped low as if bowing in grief.
Even the soil trembled beneath our feet.
I turned to Darius. His face was pale, eyes fixed on the tree.
“She’s… weeping,” I whispered.
He nodded once, his voice hoarse. “No. The whole forest is.”
The forest had quieted, but the weight of Maori’s grief still clung to the air like ash.
She had taken Rooga into the heart of her tree, her divine form sinking beneath the bark with him in her arms, whispering something only gods understood.
We couldn’t follow.
So we went back.
The house that had always felt warm now felt colder than any battlefield I’d stood upon.
We gathered around the dining table — the one Darius had built by hand years ago.
The same table where family once shared bread and laughter.
Now it was filled with soldiers and guilt.
Darius sat at the head, his expression unreadable.
Kain leaned against the wall, arms crossed, jaw tight.
Melissa and Noile took the far end, still carrying dust from the grove.
Acker stood near the window, fingers twitching on an invisible bowstring.
Selene sat beside Darius, her posture still but her eyes...
Her eyes weren’t human anymore. They were hollow, wild, trembling on the edge of something primal.
And beside her — small, silent, head bowed — sat Elara.
Darius broke the silence first.
His voice was low, steady, but heavy enough to make even the air hesitate.
“Elara,” he said. “Why did you decide to go all out on that swing?”
She didn’t lift her head at first. Her hands were clasped in her lap, knuckles white.
When she finally spoke, her voice cracked.
“I thought… I thought Rooga had the blessing.”
Darius frowned. “Blessing?”
She nodded quickly. “Like you, Father. Like me. The regeneration. I thought… even if I hit him hard, he would heal.”
Darius’s expression darkened. “That doesn’t mean you could strike him with full strength.”
Elara’s shoulders shook. “I’m sorry.”
The room went still.
Then Selene’s voice came — sharp, trembling, breaking at the edges.
“‘I’m sorry?’” she repeated, each word like a blade.
Her gaze rose, and her eyes — those eyes that once held warmth — were glowing faintly red.
“You almost killed my son. And all you can say is I’m sorry?”
“Selene,” Darius said quietly, “enough.”
She turned toward him slowly, something dangerous in her voice. “Enough? Is this how you lead now, Darius? Is your daughter untouchable?”
Darius’s jaw tightened. “She didn’t know.”
“And for that,” Selene hissed, “she can be forgiven?”
The air changed. The pressure thickened.
Before anyone could move, Kain was already there.
The whisper of steel broke the tension as his blade came to rest just under Selene’s chin.
“That’s far enough,” he said quietly.
Darius stood immediately. “Kain, stop.”
Kain didn’t lower the sword. His voice dropped to a grim murmur. “Darius, you know this look. We all do.”
Everyone froze.
Kain’s eyes didn’t leave hers. “This is the same face she had during the wars. The one she wore when she stopped being a person and became a weapon.”
Selene’s breath came shallow now, her hand trembling at her side.
Then the smell of burning filled the room — faint but unmistakable.
Her palm was aflame, tiny sparks of vermilion light dancing between her fingers.
Darius moved forward. “Selene!”
Then it came — soft at first, then louder.
A child’s cry.
Eria.
The sound cut through everything — through the heat, through the rage, through the weight of years of grief.
Selene froze. Her hand dropped, the fire vanishing instantly.
She turned toward the door where I had carried the baby earlier, eyes widening in horror at herself.
Her voice broke. “...Eria?”
The baby’s cries echoed down the hall — pure, frightened, human.
And just like that, the storm in Selene’s face cracked.
The light in her eyes dimmed back to the trembling, tearful blue of a mother.
“I…” she whispered, falling back into her chair. “I didn’t mean to…”
Kain sheathed his sword and stepped away, his expression unreadable.
The tension drained from the room, leaving only silence.
And in that silence, the only sound left was the faint cry of an infant —
the reminder that not everything in this house was broken yet.