The Magic Sap

Fyor smiled at the little fairy.

“That is our folk.”

“There is something puzzling me.”

     Henox, who had until then kept silent, had been far from affected by Almes’ moods. He didn’t understand how someone could get into such a state. Yes, everything was going to disappear. It was what could be called an immutable truth. What had become a component of their world, the final dot of a story they were not allowed to have a say about. Though this elf seemed to forget common sense. He would disappear as well. Hence, who would remain to lament nature having or not disappeared?

     On the other side, Fyor had caught his interest.

“I think I already heard of Sluaghs. Though… aren’t they supposed to live amongst the clouds?”

“You haven’t been misleading.” Fyor granted him.

     He raised his head, seemingly inviting the travellers to look up at the first rising stars.

“Originally, the Sluaghs’ folk is known for living in the sky, waging war from time to time. This is the element that is ours, the one where none of our actions are hindered.”

“Yes, many good fighters are part of our folk.” Almes said, having been furious about his comrade’s reaction until then. “And I am among the best archers.”

     He deliberately emphasised that latter remark, casting a side glance at Fyor. A threat maybe?

     Barely raising an eyebrow, Fyor didn’t seem to find it relevant to grant it any attention.

“In that case, why are you there?” Henox asked so he could redirect the discussion.

     A thin smile crossed Fyor’s features.

“Follow me. I will show you something.”

     And, turning around, the Sluagh crossed the clearing before penetrating the trees. Henox and Almes soon followed in his footsteps.

“After Kishar addressed every creature,” Fyor began, “many among us felt the need to get closer to the earth.”

     The little brightness offered by the night sky quickly lost, Fyor stopped for a brief moment. Extending a hand in front of him, near his mouth, he blew a stream of air over it. It rapidly increased and guided by the curvature of his fingers, the swirls of wind whizzed over their heads shaking tens, hundreds of these branches-roots dangling freely all along the road they were about to take. The leaves growing over them then began to emit a purplish glow like lanterns lighting up the undergrowth.

     Amazed, Gretel widened her eyes while they resumed their walking, punctuated by the jingle of the bells.

“Despite us being attached to the freedom that the air offers us, we’re not without being equally to the terrestrial nature.”

     Fyor stopped in his tracks for a while, mid-closing his eyes. He tilted his head, turning it to set eyes on a rock covered with moss. A caterpillar meandered there. Its back was topped at each section of its body with some miniature mushrooms.

“And… I have to admit that we have seldom benefited from it.”

     Emerging this time wholly from her hiding place, the little fairy wasn’t insensitive to the touch of melancholy in the elf’s voice. Hence, reaching the edge of Henox’s shoulder, she worked to go down along his shoulder, prompting the latter to stretch out his arm so that she wouldn’t fall. Gretel joined the palm of the sorcerer’s hand, extended towards Fyor.

“Here, that is for you.”

     Intrigued, the latter turned his interest to her, beholding above the little creature’s hands the apparition out of thin air of a macaroon. A mere glimmer ran through it for a brief moment before fading away.

“Hmm? For me?”

     Blinking several times, the elf still reached out a hand to grab this modest gift he approached to his lips with curiosity.

“I thank you but… why?”

“Because! Eating sweets will allow to bring back your smile.” Gretel answered with simplicity, beaming.

     For a short while, the elf widened his eyes. Until a chuckle escaped his lips.

“I see, I see.”

     And he bit into the macaroon.

“You’re so easily coaxed… What a sellout.” Almes remarked with a mocking smile.

     One more time, he got magnificently ignored while Fyor continued guiding them.

     Doubtlessly in an attempt to eclipse this new infringement to his daily mishandled self-esteem, Almes saw fit to pick up where his friend had left off.

“Whatever, this is what urged us to abandon the skies. We put aside our wars and chose to follow our king and queen, so we could get closer to the forest.”

“So you are going to stay there?” Gretel asked.

“Yes.” Fyor resumed. “We will pay tribute to the forest. That is the most righteous thing we can do.”

“Why did you cease fighting?” Henox interjected.

     At this state, one could really wonder if he had a dubious penchant for conflict…

“Why?” The green-eyed elf wondered. “Well, we just have something better to do. To fight at the slightest disagreement, this sounds quite laughable now. Perhaps this is where the end of the world shows its good sides. Until now, wars have been rife in these lands. Certain areas in particular… were constantly corrupted by the human beings’ and magical beings’ blood.”

     Even if Fyor’s tone had become more serious at these words, he soon regained his detached one.

“But all of this is past. I think we all understood that as it is, a war’s winners wouldn’t have anything left to win.”

“You forget the Dûphons and the Matagots.” Almes rectified.

“Ahh… The incorruptibles. Well, these ones’ blood only boils when it is about to burst from their bodies. I think they will live like this until their very last breath, whether or not this latter is hastened by en external cause.”

     With a curious glance, Gretel eyed the elves when Henox took her back to his shoulder, letting out a small mocking laugh.

“I wonder what the goddess may think of all of this.”

“Kishar? Who knows what goes through a goddess’s mind.” Almes retorted. Anyway, she might have been quite bored to condemn a whole world. To behold brambles engulfing it, I imagine it would be far more entertaining…”

     He clenched his fists, frowning.

“Are you sure… this is the only reason why?”

     For a few moments, all eyes focused on the sorcerer.

     Silence settled, part of these moments which seem to last indefinitely.

     Gretel, as for her, remained thoughtful. Though the cause was far from the same.

“Mmmmm…”

     She tilted her head to the side, a hand leant against her cheek.

“But I don’t understand… Are you Sluaghs, or are you elves?”

     If Fyor alone let out a small embarrassed laugh, all three of their thoughts seemed to converge.

“She didn’t listen at all to what we were talking about.”

“The Sluaghs are a branch of the huge elven family. Is it clearer this way?” Fyor patiently explained.

“Ah!! Yes, thank you!”

“Oh, but you’re welcome.”

     At last, the group’s footsteps ceased.

     Facing them crystals on either side, of any size, sprang from a sinuous tree. A tree far larger from the ones they were able to behold until now. The leaves’ purplish glow was reflected all around them by the minerals. They almost completely covered the bark.

     Gretel was at a loss for words.

     Henox wasn’t. He made a few steps forward.

“This tree, it is on the verge of death, isn’t it?”

     As a response, Fyor simply nodded.

“How’s that?” The little fairy asked.

“Once these crystals have entirely covered it and absorbed all its sap,” Henox intervened, “the process will be achieved.”

“Ehh?”

“Nothing can be hidden from you.” Fyor conceded. “Actually, Gretel, magic abounds in the crystals you can see. They grow upon certain trees which have known… the magical beings’ influence, shall we say. And when they have gathered all the tree’s sap, that the latter gives way, the crystals tumble with it. Some will break straightaway, others will do so over time. But, once this happens, the magic they contained leaks out and spreads over the world.”

“That’s what perpetuates the cycle.” Almes added before he continued.

“What once was magic will return to the magic.”

     Henox eventually turned back to the elves.

“So it’s for these kinds of things that you abandoned the clouds. How ironic,” he added, “while death is usually a part of this cycle, this time it will come to break it forever. That’s ludicrous.”

     Almes grumbled.

“What is ludicrous is to hear someone like you talking about it.”

“Hmm?” Henox raised an eyebrow.

“What he means,” Fyor completed, “is that you have over you the scent of death.”

     Faced with these curious words, the little fairy leant forward, trying to sniff the air with dedication. However, she didn’t feel any particular odour from him…

“Sluaghs have an acute sense of smell. I indeed have a certain… affinity with this one.”

“Mmm. You don’t try to deny it.”

     Fyor cast him a smile. Despite this, despite these statements which remained vague to say the least, he had already made up his own mind. A being accompanied by a fairy couldn’t be fundamentally wicked.

“Perhaps I know who you can go to heal Gretel’s wing.”