Page 44 of Awakened Destiny
“Don’t let me keep you from what you were doing.” She takes a deep breath, and for a moment I think she wants me to leave, but then I catch a fragment of her thoughts. I shut that down before I can intrude further, but not before I hear her wishing for me to stay.
“You’re not,” I say simply.
We walk in silence for a while, automatically heading for the trees. The path narrows as it winds toward the denser part of the forest, and I step slightly ahead to lead her. The sunlight filters through the canopy in broken patches, the air cool but not biting. I can feel the shift as we move further in—it’s subtle, like the woods themselves are leaning in closer to listen.
The grove isn’t far now. The trees here are older, their roots twisting across the ground in gnarled patterns. My hand brushes against the bark of an oak as we pass, and there’s a faint pulse beneath my fingers, almost imperceptible. It steadies me in a way nothing else does. This place, this earth—it knows me. Always has, even when I’ve felt like I didn’t know myself.
"Your grove?" Brigid asks, breaking the quiet. Her voice isn’t guarded this time, just curious.“I’ve never asked you why it’s so special, have I?”
"It’s... centering."
She doesn’t press for more, which I’m grateful for. Explaining the grove to someone always feels inadequate, like trying to describe color to someone who’s never seen light. But I think she understands. She’s felt it.
When we reach the edge of the grove, I stop. The clearing opens up suddenly, like the forest itself decided to pull back and make room. The space is ringed by towering trees, their branches arching overhead to form a natural ceiling. The ground is soft with green moss.
Her gaze sweeps over the grove, lingering on the way the light dances across the moss and the faint shimmer in the air that marks this place as something... other. She doesn’t speak, but I can see her relax slightly, her arms falling to her sides as she exhales slowly.“I love it here,” she says.
I kneel, pressing my palm flat against the mossy ground. The energy here hums beneath my skin, familiar and alive. It’s not loud, not demanding. Just steady, constant. Like a heartbeat. I close my eyes for a moment, letting it settle into me, and memories flicker at the edges of my mind of a different grove, somewhere far away: lessons spoken in low tones, rituals performed under moonlight, the weight of expectation heavy on my younger self.
"Is this... yours?"
"Not mine," I say, standing again and brushing off my hands. "But it’s where I feel most myself."
She looks at me then, her gray eyes searching. There’s a question she hasn’t quite formed yet. I hold her gaze, waiting, but she just nods and steps further into the grove, her movements careful, almost reverent.
"Why does it always feel like this?" she asks after a moment, her hand skimming one of the low-hanging branches. "Alive. But not like other parts of the forest feel alive."
I pause, watching her. "I don’t know if it’s the same for everyone. You’re the only other person I know who can feel it."
She tilts her head slightly, considering.“Have you brought other girls here, Tiernan?”
My face grows hot.“No. Not like you.”
She doesn’t respond, but a faint smile ghosts her lips. She moves deeper into the grove, her fingertips trailing along the bark of an ancient oak. The silence between us is not uncomfortable.
I watch her, the way she moves—hesitant but deliberate—like she’s testing the ground beneath her feet. The sunlight catches in her dark hair, and for a moment, she looks almost otherworldly. Like she belongs here, in this place that feels like it exists outside of time.
“It’s quiet,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.“But not the kind of quiet that makes you feel alone.”
“Yeah,” I say, because I know exactly what she means. The grove doesn’t demand anything of you. It just is.
She turns to face me then, her eyes meeting mine again.“Thank you,” she says quietly,“for bringing me here. I know how special it is to you and I don’t take it for granted that you let me in. That you let me come here.”
I nod, unsure of what else to say. The gratitude in her voice catches me off guard, and I can feel my chest tighten in response.
I sit down on one of the moss-covered stones near the edge of the grove, motioning for her to join me. She hesitates, then lowers herself carefully onto a patch of grass, tucking her legs beneath her. Her movements are precise, almost cautious, like she’s afraid of disturbing something fragile.
"Do you know why I come here?" I ask, breaking the silence. My voice sounds rougher than I intended, but I don’t try to smooth it out.
She shakes her head. "Not really. I mean, I can guess, but..." Her words trail off, and she looks at me expectantly.
"It’s not just a place," I say, leaning forward, my elbows resting on my knees. "It’s alive. The grove… it’s connected. To everything. To me. To you now, too." I pause, glancing up at the canopy above us. Light casts shifting patterns on the ground. "Another place just like this is where I learned what it means to be a druid. What it means to listen."
"Listen to what?"
"Everything," I say simply. "The trees, the earth, the wind. Even the things you can’t see. Especially those."
Her eyes narrow slightly, like she’s trying to puzzle out my meaning. But then she tilts her head, a gesture that feels almost instinctive, and asks, "Who taught you?"
