Chapter 8: Between the Roots

The morning air was crisp, and damp leaves clung to the sides of the road. A light fog drifted between the trees, softening the world around them as the three made their way down the narrow trail. Vaelira walked ahead, staff in hand, trying not to trip over roots or slide on the wet ground. Her boots squelched with each step.

Behind her, Thalen was humming something quiet and tuneless, his pack bouncing gently with each stride. Edrin brought up the rear, keeping an eye on the forest.

It had been a few days since they left the village. No signs of trouble so far.

"We’re either lucky," Vaelira said, "Or something’s watching us and waiting for a dramatic entrance." "Please don’t say things like that," Thalen muttered. "It makes it real." Edrin smirked. "If we get ambushed, you can blame her."

Vaelira glanced back. "Are you sure we’re going the right way?" Edrin gave a small nod. "Two more days, maybe three. You can tell from the wheel ruts and broken branches—carts have come through here recently."

Vaelira adjusted her grip on the staff as she stepped over a crooked root. "Well, let’s hope we’re not wandering in circles. I’d rather not get beaten by a bear just because your wilderness sense decided to take a nap." Edrin gave a quiet snort. "If we were going in circles, you’d hear me complain. I don’t like retracing steps." "That doesn’t fill me with confidence," She said.

Thalen picked up a stick and poked at a mushroom clinging to the side of a tree. "Maybe the bear would be friendly. Share its cave. Offer tea." Vaelira shot him a look over her shoulder. "You’re not helping." He offered a smile. "Just trying to lighten the mood. Tension attracts trouble, you know." "That’s not how tension works," she said, but she didn’t sound annoyed.

They moved on in silence for a while, the sound of boots squishing in the damp trail filling the gaps in conversation.

The path curved, and they followed it. They found the road widening slightly — and blocked.

A pair of wagons stood still, one half-tilted in the mud, its front wheel cracked and stuck. A small group of travelers huddled nearby. A woman was waving her arms, trying to calm a skittish pack mule. Two children peeked out from behind crates stacked under a tarp.

Vaelira stopped. "Well. That doesn’t look great." The woman spotted them and called out, "Help! Please! The wheel gave out, and we can’t get it back on the road!" "They seem to be in deep trouble." Edrin said, glancing at his companions.

The woman approached them. "We’re heading to Arlon’s Crossing. Took the forest path to cut time, but it’s been nothing but rain and bad luck." Edrin moved toward the tilted wagon. "Wheel’s cracked though," he said, crouching beside it. "No wonder it won’t budge." "I could try freezing the mud around it?" Vaelira offered.

"That’ll just lock it worse," Edrin replied. "Unless… you can freeze it just right? Firm enough to lift it?" Vaelira puffed her cheeks. "Of course." She stepped forward, focusing on the ground beneath the wheel. "Alright… just enough to brace it…" A soft hum of cold built around her staff. The mud hardened quickly — too quickly. The wood creaked, and the wagon jolted slightly. One of the children yelped. "Oops." "You froze the whole axle," Edrin said flatly.

"I did not!" She frowned. "Just… partially. It’s still usable. Probably."

"I’ll pry it loose," he sighed, already pulling out his belt knife.

Meanwhile, Thalen knelt beside a man with a wrapped leg. "Injured during the fall?" "Twisted it badly trying to hold the cart," the man winced.

Thalen examined it gently. "Not broken. I have something for the swelling—" "You do?" Vaelira asked, glancing over.

"Picked up a few things from the temple infirmary," he said with a smile. "They made us learn basic field aid. Comes in handy." He unbuckled a pouch from his side, pulling out a small bundle of dried leaves and a vial of oil. Vaelira recognized neither, but the man relaxed as Thalen worked.

Meanwhile, one of the wagon’s reins had gotten tangled around a branch. The rope was frayed and slick with mud.

"I’ve got that," Vaelira said quickly, stepping over. She held her staff in one hand and murmured a short phrase under her breath, palm glowing faintly. A pulse of cold washed over the rope — not enough to freeze it, but enough to stiffen it and make it easier to untangle without slipping. The woman blinked. "That was… clever. We tried pulling it free, but it kept slipping. I was scared we’d tear it — and we don’t have extra reins." Vaelira tried not to beam. "Yes, well. Precision. Very advanced." In a few minutes, the leg was braced, the wheel had been chipped free, and with Edrin’s help the wagon was gently righted.

The woman placed a hand on her chest. "You have no idea how much this helps. Thank you."

"We’re just good like that," Vaelira said, brushing her hands off theatrically.

"Especially with icy ropes and advanced precision," Edrin added.

She narrowed her eyes at him and stuck out her tongue. "Jealousy isn’t a good look." "No, but it’s a consistent one." He said.

The travelers offered to share what little they had — a pouch of dried fruit, a strip of smoked meat, and a few honeyed winterberry clusters, small treats made from tart berries preserved in syrupy glaze.

"We can’t offer much," the woman said, "but you saved us hours, maybe more." Edrin nodded politely, already sorting the treats into equal shares. "We’ll take it." "Heroes get hungry too!" Vaelira added.

Thalen smiled.

They walked with the caravan for a short while, keeping an eye on the uneven trail ahead.

One of the younger travelers, a girl no older than ten, kept sneaking glances at Vaelira.

"You’re a real mage, right?" the girl asked at one point, staring at her staff.

Vaelira smirked. "The realest."

"Can you make snow? Like, real snow?" "If I wanted to." She paused, leaned in closer. "But I charge for blizzards."

The girl giggled and scampered back toward the wagon.

A man near the front of the wagon chuckled. "Used to be a time when real mages passed through here. Haven’t seen one in years." Vaelira tilted her head. "Then I suppose today’s your lucky day." "Let’s hope so. These roads could use it."

Eventually, the two groups parted ways. The sun was low by the time the trees thickened again, branches tangled high above like fingers knitting together.

Edrin paused to glance at the darkening sky. "We should make camp before the path narrows." Thalen nodded, already eyeing a dry patch under a leaning pine. "I can take dinner duty tonight." Vaelira raised a brow. "Can you cook?" "I’ve read about it," Thalen said brightly.

That earned a long silence.

Ten minutes later, the fire was crackling. Then more minutes passed and an unholy stench rose from Thalen’s pot.

"What is that?" Edrin asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Wild onion, boiled moss, and mountain sage." Thalen stirred the pot with growing concern. "The proportions might be… off." "It smells like regret," Vaelira said.

Thalen sniffed the mix. "Maybe it needs salt?" Edrin grabbed the ladle before he could pour. "Maybe you need supervision." "I’ll handle it," he sighed, pulling the pot off the fire. "Why is it always me saving us from disaster?" Vaelira flopped back on her bedroll, grinning. "Because you’re boring and reliable." "And you’re cold and chaotic." "Flattering!" Thalen sat cross-leged near the fire, watching Edrin stir the salvaged stew with practiced ease. Vaelira flopped up on one elbow.

"You really thought moss would work? She asked, smirking. "I read it was edible!" Thalen said, holding up a hand in protest. "In survival manuals. It was that or bark." "I’d prefer the bark," Vaelira said. "Less emotional damage." Thalen chuckled then tossed a pinecone toward the edge of the fire. "Alright, noted. Next time, gourmet bark stew." She snorted. "You’re lucky Edrin didn’t throw you into the pot with it." "Would’ve added more flavor. Priestly undertones. Hints of regret."

Vaelira grinned, but after a moment her expression softened. "You were good with that injured man earlier." Thalen blinked, surprised by the sudden sincerity. "Thanks. Temple made us practice a lot of first aid. Healing spells are useful, but not always enough." "Huh." She studied him for a second. "Didn’t think you were the practical type." He shrugged. "People think that a lot. I just don't talk as much as you do." "I do not—" She caught herself, then squinted. "That was clever." "Precision," he said, mimicking her earlier tone. "Very advanced." Vaelira groaned, covering her face with one hand. "Never saying that again."

Vaelira narrowed her eyes. "Careful. I might start quoting your sunlit sermon right back at you." Thalen smirked. "You wouldn’t dare." She pointed a dramatic finger at him. "May the dawn’s light guide your muddled culinary choices."

He laughed. "That’s not even accurate." "Neither was your soup." Edrin, still stirring the pot, shook his head. "I swear, one day you two are going to drive me off a cliff." Vaelira and Thalen exchanged a proud look.

Edrin sighed, "Just make sure the soup’s better at my funeral."

Edrin passed Vaelira a bowl of soup. She sniffed it like it might still be poisonous.

"Relax," he said. "This one didn’t touch moss." "That you know of," She said, eating slowly.

Edrin raised a brow. "What exactly is your cooking experience, Thalen?" "Mostly ceremonial offerings. Burned a lot of oats. One time, holy bread caught fire." "Spontaneously?" Vaelira asked.

"Let’s go with that."

The fire crackled softly, casting flickers of gold and orange over their camp. Branches overhead swayed gently in the night breeze, creaking like old bones.

After the last scraps were gone, Edrin stood and stretched.

"I’ll take the first watch." Vaelira yawned and flopped onto her bedroll without protest. "Wake me second."

Thalen settled on the other side of the fire, already curling into his cloak. "Wake me if anything actually tries to kill us." Edrin shook his head with a soft snort and moved to the edge of the camp. His cloak rustled faintly as he sat on a smooth rock, bow across his lap. The fire’s warmth only just reached him there.

Vaelira glanced over at him. "Hey Edrin," she said, voice low. "Why do you always take the first watch?" He didn’t look at her. "Because it’s easier to stay awake when I’m still annoyed at both of you." Thalen mumbled from under his cloak, "Valid." She chuckled softly. "Fair enough." The woods were quiet at first. Edrin passed the time shaving bark with his belt knife.

A branch snapped far off in the distance. Eldrin’s hand shifted to the bowstring, grip firm. He waited. Nothing followed. Just the quiet crackle of the fire.

Time passed. The forest stayed still. When the moon hung high, Edrin stood and nudged Vaelira’s shoulder.

"Your turn." She groaned into her bedroom. "Isn’t it still the middle of the night?" "Yes." Grumbling, she pushed herself upright and tugged her cloak tighter. Her hair stuck out wildly on one side. "Fine. Go sleep or whatever." Edrin was already lying down before she finished. Vaelira shuffled closer to the fire and sat down, staff next to her.

At first, it was uneventful. She tried humming a tune but got bored halfway through. Then her eyes caught something. A faint shimmer between the trees. Pale blue, flickering like starlight on water. She squinted. It pulsed once. Then vanished.

Vaelira stood slowly, she took a few cautious steps towards the edge of the trees, eyes narrowing.

Nothing.

She tilted her head. "Creepy glowing fog. That’s new." A minute passed. Then two. She sighed, turning back to the fire. "No one’s going to believe that happened. Not unless it comes back and sings me a lullaby." She sat again, still watching the trees.

After that, Vaelira’s shift passed without much excitement. She yawned a lot, poked the fire a few times, and nearly drifted to sleep twice. When the stars started to fade and the sky turned the faintest shade of blue, she tossed a pinecone at Thalen’s back.

He stirred with a soft grunt. "Already?" "Time for the priestly watch," she said, wrapping her cloak tighter and flopping onto her bedroll.

Thalen sat up slowly, blinking at the trees. He pulled his robes close and made his way to the fire, sitting cross-legged. For a while, he just sat there, listening. The wind had died down.

He glanced at the others — both of them sleeping tight.

Thalen smiled a little and reached into his pack. From inside, he pulled out a small leather-bound book. Its cover was worn from travel. He flipped it open and traced a few lines with his finger

He whispered quietly, almost too soft to hear "Soltheria, let your light guide our steps. For in your warmth we can find truth."

Morning came slowly, light leaking through the trees. Birds chirped once the sun started rising. Vaelira sat up, hair wild, eyes puffy.

"I dreamed of soup," she said. "Bad soup." Edrin stretched with a groan. "That wasn’t a dream." Thalen closed his book and stood. "I believe it counts as a shared trauma." Vaelira rubbed her face. "Never again, Thalen." "Fair." They packed up quickly. The trail ahead led into deeper woods. The trail ahead was easy to follow, worn by carts and boots, but it started to change. Trees stood closer together. The ground felt softer, covered in old leaves and damp moss. Small roots snaked across the path, catching at their steps.

Thalen tugged his cloak tighter. "Is it colder, or am I imagining things?" "It is," Edrin said, walking ahead. "Not wind or weather though. Just… the air." Vaelira looked around slowly. "The trees are different. Taller."

Above them, branches stretched wide, letting sunlight filter through in soft streaks. Birds still called in the distance, but they sounded different here.

"Something about this place feels old," Thalen said.

"It’s just trees," Edrin replied, but he didn’t sound sure.

Vaelira stepped over a fallen log and paused. The bark was covered in pale moss that shimmered faintly where the light touched it. She reached out, brushing it with her fingers. Cold to the touch. Not icy — but close.

"You know… This place feels like the ruins we passed. Remember Edrin?" Edrin groaned "Yes… Here we go again." Thalen raised a brow. "Again?" "She’s going to bring up Frost’s Embrace," Edrin said.

Vaelira nodded. "It just, somehow feels familiar. Not sure why."

Thalen looked between them. "What’s Frost’s Embrace?"

"A spell," Vaelira smiled. "A powerful one. Old. Some say it was lost, or hidden. I’m not sure. But stories say it lingers somewhere." "Isn’t that just a legend?" Thalen asked, half-curious, half-skeptical.

Edrin didn’t look back. "Don’t encourage her." Vaelira smiled a little. "I don’t need encouragement." They walked in silence after that. The path grew narrower. Mist clung low to the ground, curling around roots and boots. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called once, then went quiet again.

If there was something hidden in these woods…

She wanted to find it first.