The moment I reached the treeline, the forest wrapped around me like a second skin, cool and familiar. My feet pounded against the earth, my breath sharp in my chest as I ran, branches and underbrush brushing past me in a blur.
I wasn’t thinking, not really. Just moving.
I gritted my teeth and ran harder.
The world around me shifted as I broke through the thick woods, emerging into an open expanse of green. A vast grassy plain stretched beneath the wide sky, the wind rippling through the blades in soft waves. And at the far edge, standing proud and unshaken, was Arbolive.
Its roots twisted deep into the earth, its branches reaching toward the sky like they held it up.
My place.
I ran straight to her and pressed my hand against the bark, rough and steady beneath my palm. Without thinking, I climbed, hauling myself up a few feet to the hollow I always used. I slipped inside, curled my arms around my knees, and started to cry my eyes out—
as Lucarion opened his.
***
Lucarion
The air in the makeshift room felt thinner than usual. My breaths were shallow, my vision tunneling around the edges.
I felt—
Empty.
Useless.
Trapped.
I pressed my hands to my chest. It was too fast. My heart. Too fast. My skin felt too tight, like something inside me was trying to crawl its way out. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. All I could focus on was myself crying under the tree, and this self lying here, the source of my own problems.
I tried to take a deep breath, but it caught halfway through and came out a ragged, choked sound. My hands trembled. My legs ached to move, to run like Olive had, but there was nowhere to go.
I curled in on myself as my heart beat like a festival drum. My thoughts were spiraling faster than I could catch them, slipping like water through fingers.
My chest tightened. My breathing became fast and erratic. My vision, already struggling in the dark room, narrowed.
Then—
A small, soft light floated two feet or so above the ground, like a purple lightning bug.
Light steps, almost unheard in the quiet, moved closer with the glow.
The low whumph of something settling on the mattress beside me.
I looked up, eyes struggling to adjust in the new light, barely registering the blurred shape next to me.
A purple, smoke-like handlebar mustache came into view, followed by sharp teeth. It was the hellhound Flicker.
I didn’t raise a hand when he moved next to me, just gasped and breathed harder, faster, thoughts no longer forming. I was going to die—even if he didn’t bite my head off, I knew I was going to die.
Flicker stood over me, then lowered himself, his body falling on mine, resting his head against my chest and pinning me down.
I blinked at him, dazed, my breath still short and tight, but his weight was real. Solid. Warm. He didn’t move, didn’t growl. He just… stayed.
I stared at him.
He stared back.
His eyes weren’t glowing like before. They were calm, kind.
I raised a trembling hand and rested it on his head. His fur was warm and soft. Glints of fire shone in his coat, but they refused to burn.
My breath hitched again, but this time it came with a sob. Quiet. Half-swallowed. Then another.
And still, the hellhound didn’t move.
Not away.
Not closer.
Just there.
I pressed my hand into his fur and cried, slow, silent tears that rolled down my cheeks and soaked into the folds of my sleeves.
Then I collapsed on him, holding him in a tight embrace.
He let me.
The storm in my chest quieted. My breathing slowed. My muscles unclenched.
I didn’t feel better.
But I didn’t feel alone.
***
Olive
I don’t know how long I spent crying, but we eventually drifted into sleep.
I don’t know how long I slept for, but a loud twig snapping woke me up. I opened my eyes and jumped to my feet. The Arbolive branches swayed softly overhead.
This was the first time I had fallen asleep at the same time as Lucarion, and at first I couldn’t tell which of me was awake. I could smell the forest, hear the wind on the branches, while feeling the weight of the hel—Flicker, on me.
My mind raced as I tried to shake off the fog of sleep. I moved my arms, and they were mine—Olive’s. I pulled myself out of Arbolive and looked upon the grove as the sun filtered beautifully through the leaves.
There shouldn’t be any dangerous animals around. Could it be my brother?
Or some Grovetenders coming to arrest me?
No—my dad wouldn’t let them.
I pressed my back against the bark, but all was quiet. Well, not quiet-quiet, but normal forest quiet.
It could be Alaric… As soon as the thought came to mind, the fog in my head cleared, and panic—different from earlier, came to me.
I started climbing up Arbolive as if a swarm of demons were snapping at my heels.
At about twenty-five feet, I stopped, hidden among the thick leaves, and tried to think of the likelihood of such a thing happening.
Alaric wouldn’t need to risk coming himself. If he told the church—who am I kidding, if—he must have told the church. He probably told the whole village. Inquisitors are probably on their way right now.
I don’t know if my dad could stop Alaric. His authority over the town church is spotty at best, but in a fight—definitely, especially with the help of Grovetenders. But he definitely couldn’t beat an inquisitor in a fight. I don’t think he could win even if all the Grovetenders helped him.
Kitesqueaks glided overhead, their bushy tails steering like rudders on a boat. One landed on a branch, its bark-flecked hide blending into the trunk until it twitched, adjusting the broad leaf on its side like a parachute testing the wind. A rush of satisfaction brought energy to my muscles. This was my forest.
They had already screwed up. They should have arrested me in the church, because now I was in my element, and I wouldn’t go down—no, I won’t go to the Judgement Spire as easy as they think.
Magic danced on my fingertips. I wasn’t experienced in offensive spells, but I was confident I could make a mean Flare if I had to. Then I could jump from tree to tree and go deeper into the forest.
A soft crunch of leaves broke the silence below. Another, slower this time, deliberate—someone was walking, but careful, like they knew they didn’t belong here.
I crouched lower on the branch. Hand extended, I sensed the Kitesqueaks moving amongst the trees, small rodents clinging upside down to the limbs, leaf-parachutes folded tight against their sides, all eyes fixed on the hollow. The footsteps were light, hesitant, picking carefully through the grass like a hunter trying not to scare off prey.
A girl came into view.
She slowed, almost second-guessing being here at all. I recognized her immediately—the girl from the church.
But she wasn’t in the church now. Out here, in the open air, she looked lost. Her ceremonial robes brushed awkwardly against the undergrowth as she half-hid behind a tree, staring into the hollow.
I doubted inquisitors were so young. But I needed to make sure.
I wrapped both hands around a massive olive that had rolled into the crook of the branch. It was the size of a clenched fist, glossy dark green and heavy with juice. With a grunt, I hurled it past the clearing. The fruit cracked branches on its flight path.
The Kitesqueaks burst into noise. Leaves snapped open as they leapt from tree to tree, parachuting in short bursts before scampering along branches. Their bushy tails flicked wildly as they chased the olive, and the forest shook with their racket.
The girl shouted in surprise, then crouched with her hands over her head.
Leaves scattered all around her as they flew overhead.
I did my best to watch for everything, but even my vision was impaired from the chaos. Once it quieted down, one thing was clear:
Nothing else moved. Nobody else exclaimed. The girl hadn’t brought any weapons out either.
I climbed down slowly, careful not to disturb the branches, and perched on a lower branch, a good fifteen feet off the ground.
I whispered sharply, “You’re not a regular clergy member here.” My voice echoed throughout the grove.
She glanced around the trees before deciding to stare straight at Arbolive—probably because she is the most impressive tree here.
“Are you from a nearby village?” I asked, still in the branches, hiding behind the leaves.
She flinched slightly, eyes widening as she stared up into Arbolive’s branches, looking higher than where I was.
“Ye-yes, I am!” she blurted out—way louder than necessary.
She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, then rushed on. “I’m an apprentice cleric. Um—assigned here, kind of. Sort of.” She shifted her weight, eyes flicking down to her shoes. “It’s part of my training. I’m supposed to observe rural communities and help out a little. Learn from someone more experienced.”
Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her robe. “And, well… Saint Alaric’s kind of a big deal, so…” Her voice trailed off as if she’d said too much.
She took a cautious step closer.
“Listen, I know—you must be freaking out. I mean, I don’t know how I would feel if everyone I knew… well, knew I had been possessed. I mean—you were possessed, you know?” she finished, sounding very unsure.
“Why did he need to tell them! Couldn’t he have just kept his trap shut!” I yelled.
She blanched, clearly not used to hearing a Saint criticized so bluntly.
She shifted on her feet. “He said it was important to show the power of Lumisiel’s blessing—to remind people that the Church protects us.” Her voice lowered, like she was sharing a secret.
I considered that for a moment. After that rest I just had, I felt like a fog had been lifted—like I could think clearer. I could understand why he would want people to know the truth.
Truth… Right, it’s not really fair of me to be mad at him for telling everyone the truth when I’m lying to everyone about what happened—about what is happening.
Every moment that goes by is another moment where I am choosing to lie to everyone.
The girl shifted, seemingly incapable of handling the silence.
“He said you weren’t anymore. He said you were very strong and held on until he was able to exorcise it.” She grabbed at her dress, fist tightly clenched. “He said you were worthy of admiration.”
A shock went through my spine, and goosebumps erupted all over my skin.
Before I knew it, I was climbing down.
I reached the floor and faced her.
A silence settled between us. Neither of us seemed to know what to say.
A cloud moved, causing the sun to shine brighter directly on the clearing. I was still lost for words, but it no longer felt awkward. Her golden hair looked like a patch of sunlight caught in the branches.
A word finally came to mind.
But she spoke before I did. She seemed desperate to fill the silence.
“I’ve been in town for a day and I—I noticed… there’s no butcher’s shop. Or anything me—meat at all. What’s up with that?” she stammered out.
I blinked at her, then shook my head clear.
I plucked up a blade of grass and twisted it between my fingers. “We don’t eat meat unless we hunted it ourselves. It’s tradition.”
She stared at me like I’d just told her we eat bark. “Wait, seriously? No one sells meat?”
“Nope,” I said. “Not in the market, not in any shop. If you want meat, you go into the forest and hunt it yourself.”
“Why?” she asked. She tilted her head. “That sounds like a lot of effort.”
I shrugged again, slower this time. “Because taking a life should always feel like effort.”
She didn’t answer right away, just looked at me like she was trying to decide if that was wise or weird.
She didn’t answer right away, just looked at me like she was trying to decide if that was wise or weird.
Finally, she spoke softly, almost to herself. “That’s… actually kind of beautiful.”
Beautiful. That’s the word. I shrugged. “I guess.” I felt my cheeks redden. I turned around, facing Arbolive. “Come on.” I called as I started following the familiar handholds.
She blinked. “Huh?”
I jerked my head toward the tree. “Let’s climb,” I repeated.
Her eyes darted upward to the towering branches. “Cl-climb?” she asked, almost like it was a joke.
“Yeah, it’s almost time and I want to show you something.” I was already reaching for the lowest branch. “Don’t worry, I do it all the time.”
She gave me a long, skeptical look, then glanced at her robes. “…Isn’t it dangerous?” she asked, her voice hitching a little.
“Not if you don’t fall,” I told her as I swung my feet.
She let out a long breath, hesitating.
“Don’t worry—I’m experienced at falling. I can catch you with a single cast so well you won’t even notice.” I reassured her.
Her eyes snapped to mine, wide. “R-really?”
“Yes.” I held her gaze, steady. “I still have my spell… and I’ll use it on you if you need it.”
The words hung between us, heavier than I expected. A spell wasn’t something you just gave away.
her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but no sound came. Slowly, her shoulders eased, the tension melting from her body. A faint smile flickered across her face. “…Fine,” she whispered “But if I fall, it’s your fault.”
I grinned, already swinging myself up. “Won’t let you fall.”