Night had fallen heavy over Vjerniskógur Outpost. The air was thick with tension, the sky clear as if the stars themselves were watching. Tomorrow, the golden army would arrive—and outnumbered or not, they would stand.
In the great hall, the last supper commenced. Voices were subdued, laughter forced. They ate as warriors often did before battle—like it might be their last meal.
Aelric stood, raising his cup. "To friends. To allies. To the poor bastards who will regret marching on us come sunrise."
The hall erupted in cheers, cups slamming on tables, some harder than necessary—nerves needing somewhere to go.
Vedran, quiet in the corner, watched Mei-Ling as she moved gracefully among the guests. His eyes narrowed—not in suspicion, but fascination. There was power around her, coiled and waiting. It shimmered like sunlight caught in a prism—beautiful, dangerous, impossible to ignore.
As Mei-Ling approached, Vedran stroked his beard thoughtfully. "You're not from here, are you?" he asked, voice low, filled with ancient weight.
She smiled politely, offering her hand. "No, Master Vedran. I come from a realm far beyond this one."
Vedran took her hand, examining her carefully. "I thought so. You're cloaked in magic... but it's not ours. Not even close." He paused, eyeing her like a puzzle he was dying to solve. "You're a goddess."
Mei-Ling blinked. "No—Fae. Nothing more."
Vedran's laughter boomed. "Child, I've met Fae. You've got divinity leaking out of your ears. Whoever told you otherwise was either blind or lying."
Aelric, overhearing, called over, "You might be the first man brave—or crazy—enough to say that to her face."
"It's the beard," Vedran shrugged. "Gives me immunity."
Mei-Ling laughed softly. "If only it were that simple." Then, her voice lowered, "How could you tell?"
Vedran's eyes gleamed. "Because I'm not from here either."
The words hit like a stone dropped in a still pond. He leaned back, voice softer. "I'm from a line the histories forgot. The Celestial Gods—we walked this land once. Till we tore each other apart. Half turned dark... half died keeping the balance."
Mei-Ling felt a chill creep down her spine. "There was a war like that... in my world." She hesitated. "I might be... the last."
Vedran nodded slowly. "You're carrying something." He tapped his own chest. "Right here. I can feel it. That's not fae magic—it's celestial."
Mei-Ling instinctively placed her hand over her heart. "How do you—?"
"I've seen it before," Vedran murmured. "Whatever's inside you, it was put there to protect you. Keep you hidden until... now."
She swallowed hard. "Can it be removed?"
Vedran gave a grim smile. "Oh, sure. If you fancy tearing open the heavens. You'll need a divine focal point. Something like..."
"The Vukovikesno," Aelric interrupted, finally stepping closer. "The sacred tree. It's real... and I know where it stands."
Vedran whistled low. "Well... that simplifies things."
"Define 'simplifies'..." Aelric muttered. "That forest eats men."
Vedran grinned. "Better it eats us than the golden army, eh?"
Feredis, eavesdropping, chimed in, "Why does every plan around here involve getting eaten?!"
****
The Vukovikesno - The Sacred Tree
Aelric led Mei-Ling and Vedran through the shadowed depths of the Vjerniskógur forest until they stood before the Ancient Tree—a titan of time, its vast roots clawing deep into the earth, anchoring it as if holding the very world together.
The tree's trunk twisted skyward, gnarled with age, every spiral whispering of centuries passed. Its branches stretched wide, heavy with leaves that shimmered like gemstones, catching the dappled moonlight in a mesmerizing kaleidoscope.
"By the gods..." Aelric muttered. "I've ridden past this place a dozen times. Never felt... this."
Vedran chuckled, stroking his beard. "That's because it wasn't your magic this tree was waiting for."
The air was thick with enchantment—Mei-Ling felt it wrap around her like a forgotten memory. There was no fear, only a quiet pull, like she belonged to it, or it to her.
"It's... calling me," Mei-Ling whispered, awed. "Like it knows me."
Vedran smirked. "Of course it knows you. Trees don't forget gods... or Fae pretending not to be gods."
"Can we not start that argument again?" Aelric grumbled, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm still processing the last revelation."
Mei-Ling stepped forward, placing her hands flat on the bark. Instantly, the tree pulsed—a gentle hum radiating outward. A soft glow sprang to life, bathing her in iridescent light.
Vedran's eyes gleamed. "See? It recognizes its own."
"And what does that make me?" Aelric snorted. "The useless mortal chaperone?"
Vedran laughed, "Pretty much."
With a theatrical wave, Vedran raised his cane, his other hand splayed toward the tree. "Ready? Stay back, prince. No offense... but this is about to get messy."
Aelric folded his arms. "None taken. But if this tree eats her, I'm holding you responsible."
Vedran grinned. "Fair enough." Then, his voice dropped, filled with power:
"Gather 'round, seekers of release,
A spell to calm the storm's increase.
By ancient whispers, power bound,
With this chant, let sorrows unweave..."
The words rippled through the air, old magic awakening like a slumbering beast. The moonlight itself seemed to bend, wrapping around them.
Mei-Ling gasped softly as the tree responded—vines shifting, leaves shimmering wildly. Her connection deepened, the hum becoming a song only she could hear.
Vedran's voice boomed as he finished, "With spoken word, I set you free,
A calmer heart, your gift shall be!"
Silence. A beat. Then... the world exploded in light.
A beam shot from the heavens, slamming into the tree with a crack of thunder. The ground shimmered, colors swirling like spilled paint. Blossoms erupted in a cascade, petals dancing through the air.
"That's... bright," Aelric muttered, shielding his eyes. "Is it supposed to be that bright?"
"That's not bright," Vedran grinned, exhilarated. "That's divine approval. Trust me—if it was going wrong, we'd all be ash by now."
Mei-Ling stood trembling, hands still on the tree, her eyes squeezed shut as magic tore through her.
"It's working!" Vedran roared. "Don't let go, Mei-Ling! You're almost there!"
Aelric took a step forward instinctively. "She's shaking. I should—"
Vedran shot out a hand, stopping him. "No. Move now, and you break the bond. She's with the gods now, lad. Let her finish."
Aelric growled low. "I hate this magic crap."
"You and me both. Still... hard not to admire the view," Vedran smirked, nodding at Mei-Ling, bathed in celestial light.
Aelric's frustration simmered beneath the surface, every instinct screaming at him to run to Mei-Ling. Yet, bound by the gravity of the moment—and Vedran's warning—he forced himself still, fists clenched at his sides. His eyes never left her, locked on the figure standing resolute beneath the celestial torrent.
The beam of light connecting sky to earth blazed like a divine bridge, painting the night in ethereal hues. It was as if the heavens themselves had cracked open, pouring their radiance down upon the Ancient Tree and the girl entwined in its magic.
All across the land, the world seemed to stir. Tiny creatures—rabbits, foxes, even the smallest insects—emerged from their burrows, wide-eyed and trembling. In the distant woods, great stags lifted their antlered heads to the sky. Even the winds stilled, holding their breath.
For one fleeting moment, nature, beast, and man stood united—drawn by a force beyond comprehension. The earth, the sky, the stars—all bore witness to the spectacle, a silent reverence shared by every living thing.
Aelric swallowed hard, his voice no more than a whisper carried away by the wind. "Mei-Ling..."
And in that sacred pause, it felt as if the world itself bowed—not to a king, nor a god—but to her.