The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the forest as I climbed the massive tree. My hands found the familiar grooves in the bark, and my legs moved with practiced ease. I’d climbed this tree more times than I could count, and each time it felt like the first: thrilling, exciting, and peaceful all at once.
We finally reached a thick, sturdy branch that jutted out above the rest. I tested it with my weight first—the bark was cool and dimpled beneath my hands, the wind tugging gently at my sleeves—before swinging my leg over.
I helped the blond girl onto the branch and sat next to her, the cool breeze brushing my face.
“I am never doing that again,” she protested breathlessly, her voice rising and falling like a faint melody.
“You say that now,” I teased. “But wait till you see the view.”
She turned and her breath caught.
From up here, the forest was an ocean. A sea of green rolled in every direction, the tops of the trees swaying like waves in the evening breeze, their canopies catching the last golden threads of sunlight. The branches far below shifted and rustled, tangled and restless, alive.
Then, with a groan of roots, one of the smaller trees pulled itself free from the soil and took a few careful steps to the side. It stopped only once its crown was in direct sunlight, then sank back into the earth with a shudder that rippled through the leaves around it. I’d seen trees do that before, but it still made my chest feel tight, like the whole forest was breathing.
A flock of Echobirds burst from the canopy, startled by the movement, their glowing tails leaving fading streaks of color in the air. Their cries bounced from trunk to trunk, repeating themselves until it sounded like a dozen more birds were calling back. The birds flew overhead; she ducked instinctively, giggling as she did so, but I stayed where I was, watching the glowing streaks fade with a grin tugging at my lips. The breeze carried the sharp scent of bark and olives, softened by the sweetness of wildflowers.
Past the trees, the forest ended in rolling hills and fields, fences and animals so small they looked like toys. And past that, I could just make out TillShade. The rooftops were tiny from here, like someone had dropped a bunch of red and brown pebbles in a pile. I spotted the church too, its bell tower sticking up higher than the rest. She hugged her knees in tight, while I stretched my legs out, letting them swing in the open air.
The whole village looked so small from up here, like it belonged to another world.
“This—this is incredible,” she whispered beside me, her voice hushed as if the view demanded reverence. “It’s... huge.”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice just as quiet. “Makes everything down there feel... smaller. Quieter.”
I smiled softly, my eyes tracing the familiar sights when an unfamiliar sight came into view.
Bubbles?
The purple bubbles floated lazily through the air, their translucent surfaces catching the light and shimmering in all directions. The sheer number of them created an almost magical glow.
Emma followed my gaze. “I never knew anything like this existed,” she whispered, her voice full of awe.
Neither did I! I’ve never seen—how could I not know something inside my forest, especially when it was so incredibly eye-catching?
I answered her with a smile, which came out stiffer than I would have liked, while I raked my mind for possibilities.
As I stared at the bubbles it was clear that most of them were originating from far away, deeper in the forest than I tended to visit, and only with my dad in those circumstances.
Before the silence went too long, it came to me.
“They’re cast by the Aethrons. They’re harmless creatures that live in the highest branches of the oldest trees around here.” I puffed out my chest.
“The Aethrons,” I continued, “cast the bubbles into the air. It’s like their way of... marking their territory.” I said this not actually sure that it was the Aethrons, because if it was, I would have seen this before. But if I didn’t know, she wouldn’t either.
She looked at me, eyes wide and sparkling in the sunset. “What do they look like?”
“I’ve never been able to see one,” I admitted. “But Dad says they’re made of bark and moonlight, with wings like leaves.”
“What?!?” she exclaimed. The branch swayed underneath, then she giggled.
Without any idea as to why she giggled, I pressed on. “Well, Dad says they’re nocturnal, and well…”
I could tell she was trying to hold back laughter.
As my explanation spluttered, a few bubbles drifted lazily near us.
With one hand to her mouth, trying to hold back her laugh, she reached with the other.
My hand shot out before I could think and grabbed hers, pulling her hand down.
The movement had unbalanced us and the branch swayed as we teetered.
Emma looked down, her eyes bulging with fear, grasping the branch tightly.
“What did you do that for!” she sounded angry but gave a small chuckle as we righted our balance and the branch stopped swaying.
“You can’t pop them, or rather you shouldn’t,” I explained calmly.
“So you decided that we should plummet to our death instead,” she whispered, sounding a lot angrier now.
“I told you it’s how they mark their territory. I don’t want the first time I see them to be when they are pecking us. Besides, I told you I was good at falling—it certainly wouldn’t be to our deaths.”
We sat in silence for a while.
I started to retreat my senses back toward Lucarion. He was still asleep, though Flicker had shifted, no longer crushing me with his body—only his head remained heavy on my chest.
“We… we should start over,” the clergy girl mumbled, pulling my focus back to her.
It took me a moment to realize what she’d said. Then I nodded slowly. “Alright.”
She drew in a breath, then lifted her chin with surprising determination. “Hi. I’m Emma. I recently moved to TillShade… and I want to be a Paladin!”
The conviction in her voice rattled me more than the branch swaying beneath us.
I scratched my cheek, scrambling for something half as meaningful to say. “Well, um… my name’s Olive. And I guess what I want to be is a protector of the forest, like my dad. Um, is fighting the possessed part of your Paladin training?”
Emma shook her head firmly. “No. I don’t want to be a Paladin just to fight demons. There’s a lot more to it than that. Paladins heal the sick, they settle disputes… and they don’t have to worry about borders. They go wherever people need them most.”
I tilted my head. “If you just want to go wherever you want, why not become an adventurer? That’s what Jorren wants to do. Except…” I rolled my eyes. “He doesn’t care about helping people. He just wants to travel.”
“I don’t want to wander,” Emma said, her eyes beginning to sparkle. “I want to help. A Paladin doesn’t need to worry about getting paid. They just go, right where people are desperate, right where prayers are whispered. When someone thinks all hope is lost, I want to be there.”
Her voice grew brighter, carrying her forward. She spoke of the poor, of healing, of inspiring hope. Of being the person who arrived when no one else could.
And she said it all without the slightest hint of embarrassment.
Watching the bubbles float, the world around us slowing as we took it all in, I swung my legs while Emma tucked hers closer against a sudden gust of wind. The sun was almost gone now, and the air was cooling, but it didn’t matter. Everything felt just right, sitting here with Emma, watching the Aethrons’ bubbles unfold around us.
Finally, Emma spoke again, her voice quiet. “I feel like I’m in a different world up here. It’s so peaceful.”
I looked at her then. The Paladin wannabe sat with her back straight, but her eyes were wide with wonder. The edge of her dress fluttered against the bark, and she picked at a loose thread absently.
“Yeah, it is.” I paused before adding, “It’s where I come when I need space... or when I just need a break from everything else.”
She turned toward me, our knees touching from the close quarters on the branch.
“Thanks for showing me this, Olive,” she said softly.
I smiled, my heart lighter than it had been all day. “I’m glad you came.” And I didn’t just mean on the climb.
We sat like that for a long while, the bubbles drifting around us, our shoulders brushing now and then with the breeze, and I could hear the leaves whispering above like they were trying not to disturb us. But not even Lumisiel could halt the passage of time.
“Bye” I whispered when we reached the village gate.
“Bye,” she said, waving backward. Then, right when I was kicking myself for not saying something cooler, Emma turned around, her smile tired but genuine. She swayed the hem of her dress, now streaked with bark and dirt, and grinned. “Next time, I’m wearing pants!”
Next time!!!