novelraw Chapter 85 : Boundaries of Earth and Roots
Chapter 85 : Boundaries of Earth and Roots
Selene POV
The night pressed heavy on my chest. Tomorrow, the villagers would come. The merchant too. Whispers would spread, and if even one pair of eyes lingered too long on the tree… Rooga’s secret would be gone.
I couldn’t allow it.
“Let’s finish it tonight,” I told Lyra.
She was the only maid left in our service, but she carried herself as though she were ten. Quiet, precise, capable. Without hesitation, she tied her dark hair back, then pressed her palms to the soil.
The ground shuddered. Slowly, the earth began to rise in smooth, natural ridges. They weren’t walls that screamed of defense but folds in the land, barriers that could pass for untouched hills.
“They’ll think these were always here,” she murmured, her mana shaping the earth like clay. “No one will suspect.”
I added my own strength, weaving dense mana into the soil, making the ridges harder, smoother, unbreakable. “This will stop beasts too, for a time. Enough for us to act if anything happens.”
But when we turned to the tree, everything we built felt fragile.
It had grown taller than our house, leaves shimmering faint blue and green in the moonlight. Beautiful. Impossible to ignore.
Lyra’s lips pressed tight. “No wall will hide that.”
My hands clenched. She was right. No amount of stone or magic could veil something so alive.
Then a small voice giggled.
“Why are you both so worried?”
We turned—and there she stood. Maori. No longer just a tiny sprite, but a childlike figure, no older than Rooga himself, barefoot, her hair glowing green with gold at the tips. Her eyes sparkled like sunlight through leaves, mischievous but oddly gentle.
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She padded over the roots, her steps light, tilting her head. “There’s no rule that says I have to grow straight, you know.”
Before we could ask, the great trunk shuddered. Branches twisted, roots shifted, and the whole tree bent forward with a groaning sound. The canopy folded down, arching low to weave into the ridges Lyra had raised. From outside, it would look like nothing more than wild forest growth.
Lyra’s jaw parted slightly. “…You could always do that?”
Maori beamed, swaying on her heels. “Of course! Hiding is part of survival. And if I want to stay with Rooga, I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Relief washed through me so hard my knees nearly gave. For the first time that night, I believed we could protect him—at least for now.
Lyra adjusted her stance, bowing her head slightly toward me. “I’ll send word to the old staff. But until they arrive, I’ll handle the people. The fields will be theirs to work. The tree will stay ours.”
I exhaled, long and heavy. The merchant and villagers would come in the morning. But tonight, with the earth raised, the tree bent, and Maori standing there smiling like a carefree child… I finally allowed myself to breathe.
The walls were finished. The ridges blended into the land as though they’d always been there, and Maori’s tree bent low enough to pass as nothing more than wild forest.
The moon was high when Lyra and I finally stopped. She brushed dirt from her palms, her hair damp with sweat. For a moment, we just stood side by side in silence, watching the glow of the tree in the dark.
I exhaled slowly. “You have no idea how much easier you’ve made this. If you weren’t here…” I shook my head. “I don’t even want to imagine it.”
Lyra tilted her head slightly, her face calm but not without warmth. “I’m glad I can help, Lady Selene. Someone has to take care of the things that swords and spells can’t solve.”
Her words struck deeper than she probably intended. My chest tightened. “Yes. You’re right. And for that… I’m glad you’re here.”
For a heartbeat, the girl’s composure faltered. She looked away, almost shy, before whispering, “My father said the same.”
I turned to her. “Your father?”
Her lips curved into the faintest smile, her eyes distant. “He told me once, ‘Not all fights are won with blades. Some are won by keeping a home standing when the warriors fall.’ He… tried to do that for me.”
Something about her tone was heavy, like a memory she carried alone.
I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “Who was your father, Lyra?”
She blinked, then looked at me with a faint, almost bitter grin. “Just a dumb guy who fell in love with the wrong woman.”
The night swallowed her words. She didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t press. There was a kind of pain you didn’t tear open with questions.
Instead, I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Then he must have been a good man, to raise someone like you.”
Her eyes widened, then softened. She bowed her head. “…Thank you, Lady Selene.”
For the first time since our exile began, I felt not just fear, not just exhaustion—but relief. Someone else stood with me in this fight.