Chapter 17 — The Bloom’s Answer

The night had long since passed into the pale hours before dawn. The forest slept, blanketed in silence. Sylwen’s Bloom shimmered faintly, the red orchids swaying with a rhythm that matched the slow pulse of the sacred pond.

Kael lay sprawled across the moss and orchids, his black hair streaked with faint silver reflections from the water. The burns along his arms were faintly glowing — healed halfway by the pond’s reluctant mercy. His breathing was slow, steady, and for once, peaceful.

Lyren floated in the pond, surrounded by threads of silver light. The Bloom’s power had embraced her at last. The dark veins along her body had faded completely, replaced by faint glowing markings that resembled ancient elven runes. Her hair drifted weightless, her expression calm and serene.

When her eyes finally fluttered open, she felt no pain — only warmth. The miasma was gone. The forest no longer felt hostile. It was like the world itself was breathing again.

She looked toward the edge of the pond — and there he was.

Kael lay there, unconscious, half-covered in red petals. The orchids around him had bent inward, forming a strange cradle beneath his body. He looked… different. Still and unguarded, the lines of exhaustion softened. The shadows beneath his eyes were gone, replaced by quiet peace.

Lyren smiled faintly, stepping out of the pond. Water rolled down her skin and soaked her tattered robes. She brushed a strand of wet hair behind her ear as she looked at him.

“You finally get to sleep,” she murmured softly, amusement and gratitude mingling in her voice.

Without thinking too much about it, she lowered herself beside him on the moss, ignoring the cold dampness of her clothes. The faint warmth radiating from Kael was enough. The steady rhythm of his breathing matched the whisper of the forest around them. For the first time since her exile, Lyren felt… safe.

⸻

When dawn came, golden light filtered through the trees, catching the mist over the pond and turning it to silver fire. Birds began to sing somewhere in the canopy, their calls echoing through the hollowed forest.

Kael stirred. His eyelids twitched before finally opening. He blinked against the light and frowned, groaning softly. “Ugh…”

Then he turned his head — and froze.

Lyren was there, still fast asleep beside him, her wet hair fanned out across the moss, her breathing slow and even.

He exhaled through his nose, half-annoyed, half-amused. “So… this is new,” he muttered, propping himself up on one elbow and eyeing her with his usual lazy half-smirk. “Didn’t think I’d wake up next to an elf in sacred waters. Figures.”

⸻

The sound of approaching footsteps broke the calm. Whispered voices — sharp, disbelieving — cut through the morning peace. The air shifted as the dryads and the elven council emerged from the trees, robes and vine-woven garments brushing the ground like moving shadows.

“What have you done?!” one of the elder elves shouted, his voice cracking with disbelief.

Another sneered, his eyes narrowing as he pointed at Kael. “Humans… they ruin everything they touch! Even sacred places!”

The circle of elves murmured in agreement, their outrage rising like a storm.

Kael sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can’t I just have one normal morning?” he muttered.

Before he could say more, movement rippled across the pond. The water shimmered and rose, forming a faint spiral. The noise of the elves fell silent instantly. From the center of the Bloom, a figure began to take shape — standing upon the surface as if it were solid glass.

She was slender, radiant, her skin glowing faintly with the same silver light that had once surrounded Lyren. Water dripped from her hair and shoulders, cascading like liquid moonlight. She was entirely bare, but her presence was anything but human — divine and ancient, the embodiment of the pond itself.

Her eyes opened, reflecting both the moon and the sun within them — deep, timeless, and unreadable. The power rolling off her was soft yet immense, commanding silence from every being present.

Maereth Lysariel, head of the council, stepped forward, her expression calm despite the shock rippling through the other elders. “The Bloom… has answered,” she said quietly. Her gaze fixed on the radiant figure. “So it awakens…”

The dryads approached cautiously, reverent. Their steps made no sound as they neared the pond’s edge, their eyes wide and shining with awe.

Kael, meanwhile, remained sitting in the moss, entirely unimpressed. His eyes half-lidded, his tone flat.

“Nice,” he muttered under his breath, tilting his head as he looked directly at the figure. “Real nice.”

The nearest dryad stifled a shocked gasp at his casual tone, but Kael didn’t seem to care. He leaned back on his elbows, ignoring the furious glares from the elven council and the scandalized silence that followed.

The figure standing upon the pond turned her gaze toward him — curious, assessing. Her voice, when it came, was like the soft ringing of water drops falling into a still pool.

“You are not of the forest… and yet your mana lingers in my waters.”

Kael simply shrugged, his smirk faint. “Yeah, well… she needed help. You weren’t doing much.”

A quiet ripple passed through the air — amusement, disbelief, or perhaps approval — no one could tell.

Lyren stirred beside him, her eyes slowly opening, the morning light reflecting off her irises. She blinked at the sight before her — the figure, the gathering, Kael’s infuriating calm — and sighed softly.

“Kael… what did you do?”

Kael turned his head toward her, face perfectly blank, voice calm and utterly unbothered.

“What makes you think I did something?”