Ironroot Novels & Stories

Arkyn sent back. The moonlight trickled down between the branches of the trees as if a spot light coming down from the moon goddess herself. It caught Arkyn’s eye the way it moved, touching leaves of plants on the ground and then slowly stopping on one plant. As if the moonbeam had chosen it. The plant seems to reach up out of the ground. It had silver-white leaves and a cluster of white flowers with lavender strikes. Arkyn walked over to it, bending down to study it. “Umm it has silver or almost white leaves. Sometimes it has a cluster of white flowers with it and they have purple streaks in the flower.” Bo voices came over mindlink a little scattered as he tried to give Arkyn a descriptio

wagers Carey with a wink. “I’ll have a berry blast thanks,” I say cheerfully. He chuckles, “Aren’t we confident?” “On your marks, get set, go!” Shouts Roland and quickly we are each taking off into the woods. While everyone sprints on ahead, I stop and take a moment to sniff the air. Soon I catch the scent of something that definitely does not belong in the forests in Oregon. I can smell bloodroot. It’s a white flower, similar in appearance to a daisy, my dad showed them to me once when he was teaching me all about supernatural weaknesses.

But also… longing. Pop whistles low and pats the seat beside him. That’s where I go. As I sit, I finally clue into the conversation. “Ītzpāpālōtl is called the Obsidian Butterfly because her wings are made of obsidian,” Huitzilopochtli says. “What’s obsidian?” Micah asks. “It’s a strong volcanic glass,” Meredith answers. Huitzilopochtli nods. “Beneath her wings, she’s vulnerable. That’s where to strike.”

The journey to her cottage took them along winding roads flanked by towering trees, their branches reaching out like ancient sentinels guarding the secrets of the wilderness. From the confines of his car, Damon observed Aqua's quaint abode—a small cottage nestled at the edge of town. The cottage stood as a solitary figure amidst a lush landscape, surrounded by a canopy of ancient trees that seemed to whisper secrets in the wind. Its timeworn exterior, adorned with ivy and climbing roses, exuded a rustic charm that spoke of simpler times.

Bucho knew so much about events that happened thousands of years ago, I made me more curious exactly how old this whole place was. Once I wrangled the magic into a more usable stream, I let vines weave from the ground and flow through the loops of the lanterns that were laying in a line. Once all of them had been looped, I pulled the vines up off the ground and into the trees. The vines wove around the branches about ten feet in the air. They hung at the intervals that Stacy had request and I added flowers, Bloodroot, to the vines. While poisonous to eat, they were a beautiful white petalled flower with a yellow center, almost like the daisies you found in the states.

She sighed frustratedly. "Look, I don't know why you are doing this but let me tell you, I am not your wife. I am not Cali Ruth. I understand why you are saying this. It is because we look almost the same, right?" He just chuckled on hearing her while shaking his head a little. "See. Your wife had hazel eyes while mine are heterochromic." She said and he got lost in her unique pair of eyes. As he looked closely, he could see that her left eye was a beautiful shade of gunmetal blue and there were some swirls of hazel in it too but it was dominated by the grey-blue. While her right eye was hazel in color with some swirls of blue in it but dominated by the hazel. Her eyes were really unique.

I stared at the ceiling, "I can talk to him for hours about literally nothing and not get bored. His laugh that he doesn't show a lot, it's deep and beautiful and his eyes light up when he's genuinely laughing. He calls me Bloom like it's my real name and it makes me feel special to him because he's the only one who can call me that otherwise it won't feel right. Every time he stands so close to me and I just feel like I'm going to melt. He cares about me so much, he'll hardly let me drive alone and will give me a ride even if I have my car. He always makes sure I get home safe. When he gets bored while I'm trying to tutor him and starts throwing random things like erasers or pillows or chip

“Yes, little moonlight?” I walk over and set a neatly torn piece of paper in front of him. He lifts it with one hand and studies the names scribbled across it. “Herbs,” I say, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Ones I remember. Some are already here, like the white sage, burdock root, and calendula, but I need more. These are rare, but I can’t complete the healing grid without them.”

“Which is why it’s not alone.” Melody’s eyes narrow. “With what.” Rowan’s gaze slides to Nate. “Ask him. He looks like he enjoys guessing games.” Nate’s eyes don’t move. “Ironbark resin.” Rowan pauses. Just a fraction. A pleased pause, like a man hearing someone speak his language. “Close,” Rowan says. “But not quite. Ironbark is too traceable.” Melody’s pen freezes for half a heartbeat. Nate leans in slightly, voice mild. “Then ashvine.”

Other than the door being missing, which the Alphas had explained was due to Finn tearing it off, nothing looks amiss. The little cottage is painted green in a shade that blends in with the forest, its trim color lighter, lime green. Its wood porch is lined with lovely flower boxes filled with pink and orange blooms. I have the same type in the gardens at Dark Forest Castle. Impatiens, they’re called. It sits on the edge of a pond, its water still and crystal clear. A large willow tree shades one side of its banks, with a brilliant bloom of purple flowers near the other edge beside a small sandy beach.