Ashlyn pushed the heavy stone doors open, breathed the morning air. 

Along her way back home, she sensed movement from a fair distance and turned to see a white mare prancing toward her. She recognized Lothira right away, but was puzzled as to why her equine friend had galloped so close to the village in such a frantic hurry. 

"Ashlyn!" Lothira called as she slid to a stop. "It's the Elder Tree, you must come quickly."

"The tree?" It took a moment for Ashlyn to place it. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. Lothira must have been talking about the Druid's ward, the one that protected their realm. "What's wrong with the ward?"

"I do not know, but it suffers and wanes," Lothira said, bending low so that Ashlyn could get on her back. "Drekaan seems to have gone missing, he is nowhere to be found."

“Oh, no.” Ashlyn gasped. “Damien has gone missing too. I suspect Girithane’s behind this.”

Though they shared a gift of reading thoughts, Lothira seemed puzzled. “Why Girithane?”

“I can explain on the way.” Ashlyn mounted, and the mare immediately pushed into a gallop, racing through the forest. She held onto Lothira's mane, clenched her thighs to keep from sliding off. “If you take me to Girithane’s den, I have a feeling we’ll find them both.”

Despite her direction, Lothira didn’t stop until they reached the meadow where the ward sat. The heart within the Heart, some called it. Ashlyn had been to this area a few days ago, but it was not what she expected to find. Cold, gray mist covered the meadow, made it difficult to see the thick tree surrounded by stones. What she could see was wilt within the branches, brown leaves sagging toward the ground. Even the lack of thriving underbrush was noticeable, along with the sour, damp taste that filled the air. 

“I asked you to take me to Girithane.” Ashlyn dismounted and paced toward the enclosed trunk.

Lothira shifted into her human form and pointed. “I sense him near. Only this portal connects to his dwelling, Ashlyn. It is the only path.”

“That can’t be possible! There are many portals and they’re all connected.”

Lothira disagreed. “It is by design. Girithane is always suspicious of his kin.”

“I thought this was Drekaan’s territory,” Ashlyn said, placing her hands up to one of the tall stones. 

“This place belongs to us all, and Girithane has always made his home below the roots. You will find him there, child.”

Ashlyn looked up at the maze of limbs and branches. One would think that a raven-shifting Druid would live near the top of a tree rather than below it. Then again, Girithane’s dwelling had always been described as a den. A dark cavern. 

She called on what little power she had to activate the ring of stones surrounding the tree. Lothira joined her there, whispering strings of words. Though the wind picked up and swirled the mist about, the portal took them nowhere. 

When Ashlyn scrutinized the portal she noticed a fleeting, thin purple film that flashed under air and touch.

“Oh, no,” the girl cursed. “It’s locked by a barrier.”

“Then you must break it,” Lothira said plainly. 

Ashlyn groaned. Of all the days for her to need power…

“I can’t.” She turned to her friend. “Even my own mana is cut off. One of the Lor elves runed me and it hasn’t faded entirely.”

“If not you, then who? Very few are stronger than Girithane. I would say the only other who could rival him is Drekaan, and he is not here.”

Ashlyn broke her connection with the portal, stepped back. “If only I had known of this sooner. If there’s been corruption here in the Heart then why let it fester? Why call on me now?”

Lothira gripped one of the stones, made the barrier flash again. “We did not know Drekaan had vanished. We believed he was fortifying the ward as always. I am of mind with you, Ashlyn; I suspect Girithane strongly. He has a fascination for the dark magics, a disposition for experiments and chaos. If we do not find Drekaan now, it may be too late.”

Ashlyn steeled herself and grasped the base of the tree. At the Academy, she was tested to know suitable sources of mana in the unlikely event that her own ran low. And she was pleased to discover that her instincts were right. The powdery blue crystal around her neck lit up as she attuned herself. 

She had nearly forgotten about the necklace Damien gifted her— free of charge. She suspected he had not realized the true value of such a piece, what it was in a mage’s possession. 

Smiling, Ashlyn closed the crystal in her palm while keeping her other hand on the bark. She felt a surge of power and watched the little object glow brighter until  it became a piercing blue. For the first time in several hours she felt moist with mana again. She breathed in, let it wash over her like rainfall watering the forest. Then she turned the mana into power and focused it toward the rune on her shoulder. She trembled at the heavy shock to her right arm, but held until the rune shattered and faded to a light colored bruise. Then she released and looked to her mentor, saw a flash of approval on the woman’s face. 

“Well done, child. Now for the barrier.”

It took a few moments for Ashlyn to feel right again. She turned and placed both hands up to the thin purple film that blocked her access to the portal. A flash of light surged through, causing a field of red veins to mix in with the purple. She grunted, trying to force her way through, but the barrier held and sent a few ripples throughout the base of the stones. 

She labored for several minutes before giving up the fight.

“I can’t activate it,” she said, watching Lothira pace around the ring, searching for weaknesses. 

“It is true Girithane is learned in his work, but you are the Sorceress of Lorianthil. Your power far surpasses his.”

“It doesn’t feel like that at the moment. Some barriers are simply built stronger than I am.”

“Stronger?” Lothira came up and took both sides of the girl’s face. “If your sisters could see you now, they would surely wail. You let this Lor elf get into your head, make you doubt. Stop surrendering to fear, Ashlyn, this is not your character.”

“I don’t know what my character is anymore,” Ashlyn confessed. “My whole life I believed I was good; that it was impossible for me to be unfair or flawed. But I have made many mistakes, I am very flawed. Kallus simply pointed out the truth.”

“The truth is you need not be perfect to be good, Ashlyn. Even Ithil doubted herself many times, yet she rose and fulfilled her purpose. It is time for you to rise.”

Ashlyn felt her face sweating. “But I’m still a girl! I’m—I’m not ready.”

“You have left the girl far behind, I know this to be true. You cannot afford to fail those who depend on you.”

Ashlyn broke away from her mentor and stared at the tree. In her heart she sensed fear and anger clashing. Damien had depended on her, and she had failed him. Let him slip into Girithane’s hands. 

I will not fail anyone again. 

She allowed the anger to drive her as she reached out, let her hands and fingers spark. She grunted, pushing through her inhibitors. The light spread throughout the length of her arms, wrapped around her torso and legs until a white aura surrounded her figure completely. A scream erupted from her throat as she pushed forward and clashed against the portal. The barrier rattled loud before it crumbled and dispersed. Red-orange sparks scattered about the air and rippled at her feet. 

When it was done, she sensed Lothira pacing up beside her again, touching the portal for herself. 

“The Sorceress of Lorianthil.” Lothira smiled. “The way should be open to you now.”

***

Damien witnessed the sudden surge of power within the tangle of roots above him. Flashes of bright light overwhelmed his vision, caused him to clench his eyes. Within a few moments, however, the flash was gone and everything returned to the way it was— lonely. 

Despite the raven man working nearby, the den was quiet. Still, he could swear he heard faint muffled voices above him. It could have easily been another part of Girithane’s illusion, but as far as Damien could tell, these illusions made no sound. Which, after thinking about it, gave him hope. 

He craned his head to look at Girithane who sat at an oak-made desk scribbling in one of his leather journals. Girithane seemed to have noticed the disturbance, too, but paid little mind to it. After finishing a sentence, he looked up at the roots along the ceiling and smiled. 

 “Your Sorceress comes.” Then he continued writing. 

“I assume this means you don’t feel threatened in the least?” Damien asked. 

“I shall do to Ashlyn what I did to the last intruder in my home.”

Though the room was covered by a pleasant backdrop, Damien remembered the shape of Drekaan on the floor. Barely alive. “Whoa, hold on. We have a deal you and I. I’m cooperating, which means you can’t hurt her.”

Girithane brushed it away with a flick of his hand. “She will keep coming for you. I will not be stopped this time. It is understandable that you picture a well-fought quarrel but Ashlyn is…an annoyance to be dealt with.”

Damien clenched his jaw. “Your digging into my thoughts is an annoyance,” he said. “If I were you, I’d be worried. Ash is no novice mage.”

“She is a child. She may have bested my barrier but she will not prevail against me.”

“Maybe you’ve miscalculated. The greatest losses usually come from underestimating an opponent. Don’t you read history books?”

Girithane formed a scowl and rose from his desk. “Be silent, mortal! If anyone has underestimated, it is your mate. She does not know what I know, she remains in the dark.”

Damien reveled in the small victory of getting under Girithane's skin. “She’s not my mate,” Damien smirked. “I’d say it’s more like a mutual attraction at this point.” 

Girithane’s silver eyes bored into Damien as he sauntered forward and stopped close to the boy’s face. “Are these games entertaining you? If you truly wish to make good on our bargain you will remain still. No plotting.”

“But you just broke our bargain, so I have no remorse.”

“You will when it is your hand that destroys her.” Girithane waved his arm, and the room changed from a peaceful riverbank to a dark, infected forest. The animals, once cute and becoming, were now creatures of terror. Butterflies turned to ghastly lizards, frogs shifted into scampering rats, rabbits grew to red-eyed predators. The trees withered and turned black upon shedding their leaves. Ashlyn now laid within a barren circle of dry, cracked dirt. Her chest did not even move from breathing. Her skin was marred by dark, tangled lines. And her eyes...so black and cold. 

“What is this?” Damien growled, pushing against the straps. The raven man stepped like a shadow within the ugly illusion, pouring the goblet of blood into the skull on his staff.  

“Behold your future.”

“Stop. These pictures aren't real, just a way to scare me.”

“I have not underestimated what you are: you are a creature sired by darkness, if such a thing is truly possible. Your Sorceress is Light incarnate; there is no being more susceptible to you. You are the Hand of Death, destined to destroy her.”

Damien scoffed. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t believe in destiny.”

Girithane drew a mark on the boy’s forehead before planting himself in the middle of the room, lifting his staff. “Ashlyn wanted to understand your power, and she will indeed.” A wave exploded from the staff once it touched the ground. Damien felt it sizzling under his skin like flames. 

“Agh!” He cried as the muscles in his arms and chest clenched. He writhed under the straps, saw his own veins swelling and darkening. 

“Behold the Hand of Death!” Girithane shouted, lifting his arms and chanting in a different tongue. 

Damien saw black smoke drifting up from the skull, a poison cloud that filled the room. He choked it in, thrashing desperately against the straps. He growled, and for a moment he couldn’t believe that such a low, carnal sound could rumble in his own chest. But he heard it again, felt the same pattern of vibrations as he roared, “No!” 

The straps around his arms broke loose. How? He didn’t care. All he cared about was leaving this place. He tore off the bands around his legs and pounced to his feet. He turned about the room, searching for an exit behind the haze of illusion. 

Girithane paced in a circle around him. “I see you, mortal.”

Damien looked at his ghastly arms and spat, “You know how much I hate this?”

“I do.” Girithane slashed a knife at his shoulder, caused a fresh outpour of blood that ribboned into the raven’s hands and changed color midair. Damien jolted back. 

“Get away from me you— ahhh!” The throbbing in his head made him sink toward the ground. Damien folded onto his knees, suffering with the spell of pain. Everything burned, everything ached. His own thoughts became drowned out by a heavy waterfall, lost to a void. He couldn’t recall why he struggled, why he suffered, so he became still. 

The boy hunched onto all four limbs, low growls emanating from his throat. 

Girithane continued pacing in circles around him. “Does it hear me? Does it obey?” The boy looked up with hard black eyes and nodded. “Good.”