Chapter 60 - Avowal

The world outside the lens has its own colours as the first faint blush of morning shines on our horizon. 

But we’re still focused on the vibrancy we can see within the mana lens. It’s a celestial waterway that defies any simple description.

Strands of varying sizes and lengths flow and intersect before finally coalescing into a white mass that stretches and contorts the space between the ground and sky.

“Can you see that Clovis?” It’s the first words I’ve spoken since peering through the lens. 

She’s right beside me, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from her arm. “Yes I know what you’re going to say, there is a weird sort of structure to it.”

My eyes attempt to trace the impossible patterns. Countless opalescent strands, thin as silk, drift in and around each other at various speeds as they move in all directions concurrently. 

We try to follow the main current and it becomes clear immediately that it is in some way connected to the forest. 

“It’s like… a vein of magic.” I say, the words feeling too simple to describe the magnitude.

“I guess that makes us prospectors.” Clovis replies with a surprisingly witty remark for once.

I recede from the lens as a fast genuine laugh arises from within me, bringing with it a feeling of success “I quite like that title.” It fits. We are explorers on the edge of a new, unseen frontier.

Clovis stops channeling her mana into the lens before Taelun can take a look, and its glow begins to fade, the intricate dance within lens slows before winking out completely. 

Our brief fragile peace is shattered by the grating sound of the southern palisade gate being hauled open and the heavy, rhythmic tread of armored boots. 

It’s Arrian with a surprisingly small band of his soldiers, their clad armor catches the first rays of the sun which makes their presence hard to ignore. 

Behind them, looking weary and diminished, is Captain Roach, who is accompanied by a small party of our own town guard. I scan their faces before concluding that  Riel is notably absent.

Ever since the attack Roach seems nicer? Grief manifests in all kinds of ways but it’s different. His gruffness has vanished in the face of Arrian’s arrogance. He looks less like a giant and more like a weathered stone monument.

“Is it ready?” Arrian proclaims, loud and obnoxiously. He doesn’t look at the lens, or at us.

I can see him sweeping over Taelun’s makeshift forge with a look of bored disdain, as if taking in the quaint, rustic efforts of children. 

An expectation of failure written all over his perfectly sculpted features, the faint, condescending smirk already forming on his lips. He’s here for the satisfaction of seeing our ‘fanciful theory’ fall flat.

Clovis, however, seems entirely unperturbed by his theatrical entrance. She meets his gaze with a level stare and a loud projection. “It’s ready. And it works.”

The smirk on Arrian’s face freezes, then vanishes completely. A moment of genuine shock, quickly suppressed. He expected to find us defeated, our project a failure, further cementing his own authority and superior judgment. 

Clovis’s confident statement of fact has robbed him of his victory before the battle has even begun.

He visibly struggles to regain his composure, his jaw tightening for a fraction of a second. If he cannot dominate through our failure, he will dominate through his command. He turns his cold gaze from Clovis to me.

“You.” he says, with dismissive condescension. “You will accompany the expedition now. Your… unique perspective on this matter may prove useful afterall.”

It’s a blatant power play. He expects Clovis to protest, to argue that her apprentice is too inexperienced.

I see him brace himself for the argument, ready to swat it down and reassert his control. He must have noted my distress when Clovis threw me to the wolves before and is trying to use it as leverage.

But Clovis does something entirely unexpected. “The choice is yours, Shikara.”

Her deference is a more powerful move than any argument would have been. It places the decision, and therefore the power, squarely in my hands. 

It’s an outward act of defiance, a statement meant only for Arrian to show that he does not command her or her apprentice.

I don’t need to think about the decision. The answer is already there as an unwavering conviction in my chest. I want to see this through. 

I want to see the fruits of our research, the practical application of our impossible discovery.

And more than that, an anger continues to burn in my heart for Elara, for Hakota and all the others that this forest has taken from us. I want to avenge them. I want to find the source of this sickness and tear it out by the roots.

I try my best to keep my face relaxed as I look towards Arrian. “I am happy to accept your invitation to join the expedition, Knight Captain Sir. I will just need a small amount of time to get changed.”

The barely-veiled sarcasm of my formal acceptance seems to catch him by surprise. His eyes narrow, but he can’t fault my words. He has gotten what he wanted, even if it wasn’t on his terms.

“Hurry up, then.” he snaps, turning on his heel. “We leave as soon as the sun clears the wall.” His petty attempt to reclaim the last word is boyish. 

I rush back towards Orville’s house and as I enter my room, my eyes immediately fall upon the neatly folded bundle of cloth still wrapped up tightly. 

My clothes. 

They’re beckoning to me. This is my chance to honour them directly. A silent tribute to the kindness that has been shown to me by this village.

I carefully untangle the string holding them together. I’ve forgotten how coarse the fabric is as my fingers dance along the impossibly neat stitches she made. The colours seem deeper, richer than before somehow.

Hidden amongst the bundle is something else, something I hadn't noticed before. A long piece of burgundy leather. At first glance, it looks like a craftsman’s apron but after I unfurl it it clearly doesn’t extend to the torso.

I put on my mended tunic and skirt, the familiar clothes feeling both new and old at the same time.

I try to figure out how to wear the leather cloth. I wrap it around my waist over my skirt, tying it snugly at my front first but it doesn’t sit right on me. I move it round to the back where it feels stranger but it finally sits right. The leather extends out and over my skirt whilst keeping the front of my skirt unburdened with a curtain.

Its purpose is unknown to me until I take my first step at which point the purpose of the apron is clear.  It isn’t an apron. It’s an overskirt. The way it’s cut, the way it moves with my legs instead of against them, it’s a protective piece meant to stop my skirt from snagging on low branches or thorns.

I’ve never worn or even seen one before. It’s a thoughtful piece, designed for the life I am now about to lead. It’s as if Elara knew I’d eventually end back up in those woods one way or another. 

Their kindness continues to persist despite the darkness that took them still being present. 

As I run unimpeded back to the gate a tear finds its way off the slope of my cheek.