Page 73 of Raven's Dawn

“I understand all that,” Amara murmured. “But it doesn’t come down to you, then. You don’t mind people living forever, even if they don’t acquire eternity from you.”

“I’m careful with who I give eternity to because of my obligation to a’ chraobh. When I was Véa, I trained my entire life to be the ultimate judge. I was very young when I learned the gravity of my power. The harm people can do with their eternity, with all that power I gave them willingly, that’s on my shoulders. I will not spit in the face of the great tree. I will do as I was taught. But I cannot control anyone but myself. If someone gets immortality elsewhere, and they do bad things with it, that’s not on me. That’s on them. I’ll stop them, if I have to. But I won’t have that burden on me, nor on the great tree.”

“A’ chraobh. That’s the great tree, right? I think I’ve heard Graham talk about it,” I said. Laila nodded in answer. “And the great tree is an actual thing,” I said slowly. “It’s not just a metaphor.”

“A very real thing.” Laila nodded. “An actual tree, bigger and brighter than anything you’ve ever seen, with leaves that glow and change colors and understands the universe and life itself in a way that I doubt any of us ever can.”

“Is it here? On the Fae Realm?” I asked.

Frowning, she shook her head. “It’s on a dying world. Still alive, though. That’s what Jeremy said, anyway. I haven’t been there since I died. I probably should go visit her, but frankly, I’m ashamed to. Dying was a mockery of her power. I shouldn’t have let that happen.” She paused. “Anyway. Anybody got some water? I finished mine off.”

Iliantha reached into her cloak and came out with a canteen. “Here you are, do gràs.”

Rustling sounded to my right. We had come from the left.

Around the corner of bushes, a single ear poked around the edge. The deer.

Slowly, I brought myself to my feet. Very gently, I edged forward, the rest following silently.

“Come here, little guy,” I murmured, hand outstretched. “I won’t hurt you?—”

It took off.

So did we. This time, though, we were closer to start. I was only a few feet from the deer when he ran. She, actually. I didn’t see antlers, and I was about ninety-nine percent sure that males would have them.

Regardless, the deer ran, and I ran after it. Everyone was close behind, except for Amara, who had the audacity to run past me. Damn her battle skills for making her physically fit.

But then she slowed. I was only a few steps behind, so I could see over her into the clearing. For whatever reason, the deer had stopped running.

Rather than a swamp or a lake, this time, we were in a meadow. Wildflowers stretched to the sky at our feet. In the center, a willow tree stood, its deep verdant leaves swaying in the wind.

The deer lay down beside it, as if asking us to join.

We edged forward, Laila taking the lead. Trees did seem to be her expertise.

As we approached, I was able to get a better look at the bark. While otherwise a normal tree, its bark and its trunk looked odd. I could have sworn my trip was ending, but staring at the willow sent me toward another peak.

Two eyes, a nose, and mouth. They weren’t carved into the tree, but rather, formed from it. Each feature was a part of the bark.

“Come now.” The lips made of bark parted, words leaving in an old, feminine voice. “You’re almost done, but I must share with you first.”

I half expected a Keebler elf to climb out of its mouth.

The others, though, only did as it said. They approached, then sat cross legged before it.

Those bark eyes scraped against the wood, turning to me. “You too, mil.”

“Talking tree,” I murmured. “Sure, I’ll listen to the talking tree.”

Stepping through the wildflowers, I breathed in their intoxicating scent. It was relaxing, as was the tone of the tree’s voice. It continued to speak as I settled in on the floral bed.

“The air an tagadh, that’s why you’ve come.” The tree looked at Laila specifically. “You will end them, won’t you?”

“We hope to,” she said. “Do you know anything about them? Can you help us defeat them?”

“I’m not fit for a battle, a’ chraobh. I do know many things about them, however. Some things I’d rather forget, but that should still be useful to you. Our roots all overlap, stretching all the way up the coast. Even beneath the water. We see all.

“The walls might not have eyes,” I said, “but the trees do.”

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