The Vampire & Her Witch

Slowly, like a child on midsummer’s day, Heila pulled the bundle into her lap and began untying the laces that held the fabric in place. Once the fabric fell away, her breath caught in her chest as she looked at a piece of heartwood taken from a young willow tree. The piece wasn’t large when compared to a twenty or thirty-foot tall willow tree, it was only four feet long and barely thicker than Heila’s arm, but it was warm in her hands and felt much lighter than it should.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she cradled the wood, her eyes growing distant as she remembered the magic of that night. The willow trees had fought alongside her, no different than when she and Ashlynn faced off together against the dangerous beasts in the Briar. They danced at her command, their branches striking like whips to protect her from obsidian shards, their roots intertwining to fill the arena with her magic without giving the cultists a chance to discover where she hid.

These trees had fought beside her, had protected her, had helped her save countless lives in the arena when it became clear that the Cauldron of Flame would stop at nothing to take her captive, even if it meant unleashing suicidal, sacrificial sorcery to do so. And now, a piece of them lay here, in her hands, still holding echoes of that battle.

”Is this...” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she traced her fingers along the wood grain. Each loop and whorl seemed to pulse with familiar energies, whether it was Ashlynn’s emerald power that had given the trees life, the soft, snowy chill from Snow Fang’s frost magic, or her own silvery-green shimmer that pulsed silently in time with her heartbeat, echoing her connection to the willows. And all of that was trapped within the willow tree’s heartwood, like memories preserved in amber.

The wood felt alive under her touch, not in the way a growing tree was alive, but like an echo of that vitality, preserved at the moment when their magic had been strongest and carrying the very faintest desire to resist the cataclysmic flames and devastation wrought by her enemies. It was something special, uniquely created in that moment that could never be made again.

”The trees I grew for your battle would never have survived for more than a week, even if we’d done everything possible to sustain them,” Ashlynn said. ”They were grown to participate in the battle, they protected you and fought alongside you and I couldn’t have asked for more from them.”

”Is this, is this all that’s left?” Heila asked as she traced her fingers gently along the loops and whorls of the wood grain. There had been a dozen trees that night and while two of them had burned to ash under the relentless assault of the Cauldron of Flame and the others had suffered their own share of damage from uncontrolled flames and wild sprays of obsidian shards, she would have expected more to have survived than this small piece.

”Just this?” Heila asked, her eyes turning misty at the thought that so little remained of the mighty willow trees Ashlynn had raised to help her in the most difficult battle she’d ever faced.

”No, there was much, much more than that,” Ashlynn said. ”I spoke with Nyrielle about it and we gave it to Master Beilan as a test to see if he could effectively leverage such a treasure and if he could do it in a way that respected everything that went into it. But that piece was the best of what remained when the trees were cleared from the arena and I wanted to give it to you.”

”Another trophy?” Heila said, raising a brow in curiosity. The captured staff she could understand, but this wood felt both precious in a way an enemy’s weapon never would and... in a way, too useful to waste leaving it as it was.

”I expect you’ll find a use for it,” Ashlynn said with a smile. ”Which brings me to another piece of news. I didn’t get a chance to speak with him while we were at the arena, but I’m told that Artificer Erkembalt accepted my invitation to meet with us here at the palace. Nyrielle was impressed with the blade he made for you, and the one he made for Ollie is just as good.”

”Now, the question is,” Ashlynn said with a slow smile forming on her face. ”Can we entice him into leaving his workshop in High Fen City behind to help us build weapons to fight the Lothians with, and more importantly...”

”You want to see if he can make a counter to the Holy Swords of the Templars,” Heila realized as she thought about the strange swords she’d seen in the visions she faced during her trial. ”A blade of ice or snow like mine could be a perfect weapon against the church but... can he make something like that without the use of a Frost Walker horn?” Heila asked.

After what she had been through in the High Pass, it didn’t bother her to use a weapon made from the horn of the treacherous Elder Paulus. He and his grandson had deserved their punishment as far as she was concerned. But if they had to harvest horns from other Frost Walkers...

”I don’t know,” Ashlynn said. ”If the only way is to use Frost Walker horns then that’s a line I’m unwilling to cross. Hauke and his people are our friends and allies,” she added firmly. ”I won’t risk that over a few enchanted blades. But, if you’re feeling up to it, you can join us for dinner tonight when we discuss it. I’m sure he’d love to hear what you have to say about his work.”

”Mmm.” Heila said, happy to hear that Ashlynn shared her sentiments on how they should treat the Frost Walkers. She expected nothing less from the kind, compassionate Mother of Trees that Ashlynn was growing into, but it still felt reassuring to hear.

”I hope he’ll come with us,” Heila said. ”If things are as bad as what we saw in our visions,” she added, her expression growing grave and her voice becoming somber. ”We’ll need all the help we can get.”