Page 6 of The Nymph King

Kiran’s healing power answered slowly, rather than surging into her life at her will, as the darkness did. This magic unfolded carefully, somehow braided with memory and deep instinct. She let it rise gently, pressing it into the earth, coaxing it forward.

Her mouth fell open as the moss nearest her boots brightened into a soft, silver bloom. The strained whisper beneath the soil eased, smoothing from a jagged murmur into a steady, rhythmic pulse. The cracks stopped creeping outward.

Imani exhaled. She let the heartmagic linger, sinking it into root and loam. The air grew clearer, the faint, shimmering distortion between the trees thinning like heat rising from stone.

“What are you doing?” Esa asked, her voice loud with sudden scrutiny.

“Fixing something broken,” Imani whispered.

She withdrew the heartmagic, leaving the forest balanced. Then, because she needed to know, she reached for the shadows again, only a thread this time, enough that the familiar, hungry power coiled at her fingertips.

The moss immediately dimmed at the edges, while leaves above them shuddered without a breeze. A faint hum beneath the soil returned, uneven and strained, as though something deep below the earth were grinding against itself.

Imani severed the connection immediately.

The Draswood stayed cautious, caught between welcoming and resisting. A cold understanding slunk through her. The Fabric was unstable, yes… but some currents strained it further, while others stabilized it.

Esa stepped closer, looking from the ground up to Imani. “The Draswood favors certain magic,” she intoned. “Life-bound currents. Root-bound power.”

Imani’s mouth thinned. She couldn’t say how easily the shadows had come to her lately, how quickly they obeyed, how ravenous they felt compared to the patience and restraint heartmagic required.

She looked at the fractured soil, then at the dimmed ring where her power had pressed too hard. The crown rested cool against her temples, offering neither warmth nor warning. It was simply there.

If shadow thinned the Fabric and healing abilities steadied it… what did that make her? She had always thought of it as a weapon, but this was a different kind of power.

Esa nudged the chapalus with her boot. “That creature wasn’t just hunting you,” she murmured. “It was demented, ready to destroy you.”

Imani’s gaze drifted toward the trees, where the forest seemed to lean inward, listening. “Yes,” she breathed. “And the Draswood protected me.”

The canopies overhead shifted, a breeze ruffling their leaves in wary recognition. Power rippled against her signature but said nothing. Both women paused silently for a moment, their chests rising and falling as they caught their breath.

Then Esa closed the distance and grabbed Imani by both shoulders. Reeling back, Imani tried to swat Esa’s hand away.

“Hold still,” Esa muttered.

“I’m fine.”

“You were nearly eaten.”

“I noticed.”

Esa ignored her. Her hands moved down Imani’s arms, checking for blood, torn fabric, burns, anything the adrenaline might have hidden. She crouched to inspect the graze along Imani’s hip, pushing aside the damaged fabric before Imani could swat her away.

“Esa.”

“Stop being difficult.”

“I’m always difficult.”

“Yes. It’s one of your more dependable qualities.”

The pixie took Imani’s face between her hands, turning it one way, then the other. The examination slowed when she reached Imani’s brow.

“Something is different about you,” she murmured, staring at the empty space where Imani had glamoured the crown.

Esa’s observation dried her mouth. She debated whether to tell her the truth, then, before she could change her mind, swiped her wand over her face.

The illusion fell away, and for the first time since dropping from the trees, Esa truly looked spooked. Leaves and branches tickled Imani’s head as another gust of wind wove through the vegetation.