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“It’s moving.” The guard gestures wildly behind her. “Taking the entire hillside with it. People are trapped inside!”
I shift toward Sterling, and our eyes meet in shared horror. The Shrine of Dawn is far away, on the Eastern border. If the same phenomenon is happening there…
“Go.” Sweat drips down Agnar’s face as he raises another earth barrier, his voice filled with grim determination. “I’ve got this.”
Before we can move, two more guards arrive.
The first one, a male guard with spiked blond hair, approaches. “The Temple of Mercy is sinking into the ground. The priests are evacuating, but many elderly devotees are refusing to leave.”
“Border villages are fighting over suddenly shifting landmarks.” The other guard, a middle-aged man with ebony skin, pauses to take a breath. “The river that marks the boundary with Aclaris and Kamor has changed course three times since dawn.”
Yet another guard comes flying in low, her pale wings extended to slow her descent. “Kamor’s troops are mobilizing along the Western Front.”
The messages blur together, each crisis more impossible than the last.
The sacred grove continues its inexorable expansion. Hungry trees advance on the screaming villagers. Even with our combined abilities, we’re barely containing one disaster while others multiply around us.
I grab Sterling’s arm and pull him up Agnar’s hill for a better view.
My stomach plummets. From here, the scope of the chaos becomes clear.
In the distance, three more sacred sites glow with aberrant light across the kingdom. The Shrine of Dawn to the east, the Temple of Mercy to the south, and what looks like the ancient burial mounds to the north.
Beyond them, plumes of dust mark the villages fighting over shifting borders. On the horizon, storm clouds gather at an anomalous speed, swirling in patterns that appear intentional rather than random.
Sterling stands beside me, his breathing ragged. “We can’t be everywhere.”
“We have to do something.” But we both know it’s a lost cause. Whatever is happening is too big, too widespread for us to contain. My chest tightens. My people are suffering, and I can’t protect them.
Three sharp blasts of a blaring horn cut through the chaos.
Sterling straightens, recognizing the signal before I do. “Reinforcements.”
Royal guards descend from the skies on the backs of alicorns, their armor glinting in the strange light.
Behind them comes Rafe, his guild master insignia visible even from a distance, leading a contingent whose practical clothing marks them as craftspeople rather than soldiers. “I’ll help where I can with air but thought earth users would be useful here, so I gathered the ones I know.”
Bastian follows, descending on Ryu.
The mighty dragon’s blue scales glimmer as he lands. Ryu’s head swerves toward the moving trees, and he bugles a challenge.
The trees nearest to us still.
“I got your message. Take these!” Bastian drops down two leather buckets before reaching for the straps carrying even more. “Redthorne berries.” He jumps from Ryu, cupping his wings to pad his fall. “From the royal reserves. Blend the crushed berries with water and pour the alloy on the roots of the trees.”
My brother’s a freaking genius.
Redthorne, with its spiny branches and crimson blossoms, is a plant of protection. Known for its fibrous wood, the leaves are associated with overcoming obstacles and warding off evil. Farmers sometimes plant it at the edge of fields to keep the soil stable, and the berries are used in religious rites to guard against malevolent forces.
The guards fan out at Bastian’s direction, dumping the mixture where the roots meet soil.
The effect is immediate.
Trees stop moving, held in place with frozen sap and hard-packed earth. The sickly glow dims. Beneath us, the ground’s rippling settles.
Rafe touches down, his tall frame vibrating with barely contained energy. He tucks his dark brown wings against his back. “I have news.”
Sterling’s face glowers. “I will shoot you with a fucking arrow.”
