Chapter 3

Heart of the Living Woods

•••

The forest stirred around Aella as she stepped cautiously into the deeper reaches of Hollow Glen. Moonfire glinted softly off the moss covered stones, casting pale silvers and blues across the twisted roots and towering trunks. Every sound, the snap of a twig, the rustle of leaves, the distant cry of a nocturnal creature seemed amplified, resonating as if the forest itself were listening.

Thalen moved ahead of her, a fluid shadow among the trees, his golden eyes scanning constantly, ears attuned to every shift of the living woods. Aella followed, trying to match his pace, her hands brushing along roots that quivered softly beneath her fingertips. Each touch felt electric, the pulse of life running beneath her skin, connecting her to the forest in a way she had never experienced before.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Thalen’s voice broke the silence, low and melodic, threading itself into her thoughts.

Aella swallowed, nodding. “Yes… it’s like the forest is alive… more alive than I’ve ever felt it.”

He glanced back at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips almost human, almost gentle. “It’s always been alive, Aella. But not everyone can hear it. Not everyone can feel it respond. That is why you are here.”

Her stomach tightened. She had never imagined herself anything more than a simple village herbalist, tending to ailments and gathering herbs. And yet, here she was, chosen by the living forest, walking alongside its Alpha King, tasked with protecting it from dangers she barely understood.

A sudden rustle ahead drew her attention. Thalen froze, his body coiling like a spring ready to strike. “Stay close,” he murmured, wolf instincts sharpening his tone.

From the shadows emerged a Ferals’ scout, smaller than the ones she had seen before but no less menacing. Its fur was streaked with unnatural black and red, eyes glowing like embers. The creature paused, sniffing the air, aware of their presence, but uncertain.

Thalen didn’t move immediately. Instead, he tilted his head, golden gaze fixed on the Ferals. “It’s testing you,” he said softly, almost to her. “The forest sends warnings in many forms. This is one of them.”

Aella’s pulse quickened. “Testing me? How… how do I respond?”

“You trust it,” he replied, eyes never leaving the creature. “You trust yourself. The forest responds to clarity, to purpose, to courage. Step forward.”

Her legs felt like lead, but she forced herself to advance, hand trembling as she extended toward the twisted roots beneath the Ferals’ feet. The forest pulsed beneath her palm, roots stretching toward her, brushing against the creature as if it were warning it away. The Ferals snarled, its body tense, but after a moment, it recoiled, retreating into the shadows.

Aella exhaled sharply, realizing her body was shaking from adrenaline. Thalen came to her side, hand resting briefly on her shoulder a touch that sent heat crawling up her spine. “Good,” he murmured, his voice so low that only she could hear. “You listened, and it obeyed. You are learning.”

The praise should have comforted her, but instead, it left her breathless, aware of how close they were standing, the warmth of his body against her arm, the unspoken tension that thrummed between them like the pulse of the forest itself.

They continued deeper into the glen, the path narrowing, roots rising like serpents, branches intertwining overhead until the moonlight barely reached the forest floor. Aella’s senses were alive, every rustle and whisper amplified. The magic here was thick, almost tactile, a living force she could feel in her veins. She realized with both awe and fear that the forest trusted her more than she trusted herself.

“Do you always follow so blindly?” she asked, trying to keep her voice casual, though it trembled slightly.

Thalen’s golden eyes glinted, a mixture of amusement and something darker. “I follow the forest,” he said simply. “It speaks to me. It tells me where danger lies, where corruption festers. But tonight… I follow you, too. I need to see what it shows you.”

Her heart stuttered. Him… following her? Not the forest, not the roots, not the moonfire stones, but her? The thought left her both exhilarated and terrified. She forced herself to focus on the path ahead, on the task she had been given.

They arrived at a clearing dominated by a massive tree, its trunk impossibly wide, roots coiling outward like sleeping serpents. The air was thick with magic, and Aella could feel the pulse of the tree through her feet, through her hands, through the very air she breathed.

“This is the Heartwood,” Thalen said, voice reverent. “All life in Hollow Glen begins here. And all corruption must be rooted out here, if it is to be stopped.”

Aella approached cautiously, kneeling to place her hands against the bark. A wave of energy surged through her, a heartbeat larger than her own, echoing in every fiber of her being. She felt the forest’s anxiety, its fear, its rage all directed at her. And yet, beneath it, a strange recognition, a quiet trust.

“Can you feel it?” Thalen asked, crouching beside her. “Can you hear its cry?”

Aella nodded, eyes closed, breathing in rhythm with the Heartwood. “It’s… like it’s alive. Like it’s screaming, but also… begging.”

“Yes,” he said softly. “The corruption is strong. It has been feeding off fear, weakness, the smallest fractures in our Dominion. And it senses you. It knows you can touch it, calm it. That is why the Ferals were testing you… they are drawn to imbalance, to those who might threaten their survival.”

Her stomach tightened at the thought. “So… what do I do?”

“You do what comes naturally,” he said. “Listen. Respond. Trust the forest… and trust yourself.”

Aella took a deep breath, centering herself, and extended her hands fully against the Heartwood. A shiver ran through her body as energy surged upward, intertwining with her veins, her pulse syncing with the ancient rhythm of the tree. The roots beneath her seemed to pulse, moving slightly as if alive, curling gently around her wrists in a protective gesture.

The forest groaned softly, branches creaking like a sigh, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire Dominion held its breath. The pulse beneath her intensified, and Aella realized she was not just touching the Heartwood… she was part of it.

Thalen’s hand brushed against hers. The contact was brief, accidental or perhaps intentional, but it sent a thrill coursing through her. Her eyes snapped open. He was watching her, intensity burning in his golden gaze. For a moment, the corruption, the Ferals, the dangers of Hollow Glen all faded into the periphery.

“You are… remarkable,” he murmured. The words were low, intimate, meant only for her. “The forest has never bonded with a human like this before.”

Aella’s breath caught, warmth flooding her cheeks. She wanted to say something, anything, but her voice faltered. Instead, she felt the pulse of the Heartwood, the strength of the Dominion, and the weight of the responsibility now resting squarely on her shoulders.

A sudden shriek tore through the glen, pulling her attention to the shadows beyond. Another Ferals pack, larger this time, moving with predatory precision. Their eyes glowed crimson, teeth bared, claws scraping the soft soil.

Thalen’s posture stiffened, golden eyes narrowing. “They sense your strength,” he growled. “And they do not welcome it.”

“Then what do we do?” Aella asked, panic rising, though a strange calm settled over her as her hands pressed again against the Heartwood. The forest responded, roots twisting, moonfire flaring along the stones, energy humming in the air.

Thalen shifted slightly closer, a protective shadow beside her. “We face them,” he said. “Together.”

The first Ferals leapt, and the battle erupted. Aella’s heart raced, but this time, she did not panic. She acted. Channeling the pulse of the Heartwood through her hands, roots shot upward, tangling the Ferals’ legs, knocking them off balance. Moonfire flared beneath them, scorching fur and flesh with controlled precision. The creatures hissed, snarled, and fled into the shadows, terrified of the forest’s wrath and of the human wielding it.

Thalen’s golden eyes met hers. “You did that,” he said quietly. “You commanded the forest.”

Aella’s chest heaved. “I… I think I did,” she whispered, disbelief mingling with triumph.

He stepped closer, their breaths mingling, the danger of the glen still lingering around them. “This is only the beginning,” he said. His voice carried a warning and something more. Something unspoken, magnetic, and dangerous.

Aella realized, in that moment, that the forest had not just chosen her… it had thrown her into a bond she could not escape. With Thalen by her side, with the Heartwood at her hands, she was no longer just a village herbalist. She was a part of Nightbrae itself.

And she had never felt more alive… or more terrified.

•••

TBC.