Night had fallen over the grove, long shadows dancing along the ancient stones. Silence hung over the place, and even the typically vocal birds were quiet.

“Where have you been?” Twigly asked, speaking to Syler for the first time since the trial began.

“I was in the tree, but it was only for a few minutes.”

“I have not seen you in three weeks.”

“That can’t be.”

“Time is sometimes strange during the Trial of the Ancient Veil.”

“Maybe it was Chaldia?” Syler whispered to himself.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. It felt like a few minutes at the most when I was there.”

Twigly shrugged.

Then the shadows began to retreat from the center of the grove. The green glow of nature-based Teknaus grew brighter and brighter. Lines of swirling magic pulled the small stones that littered the clearing, rolling them over one another and beginning to form a humanoid shape. Twigly knelt before the forming creature, and Syler chose to do the same, keeping his eyes on it.

The guardian stood 30 feet tall, its enormous stone head brushing against the canopy branches. The stones that made up its form continuously rolled around, almost making the figure appear blurred. It reached out a hand to Syler and one of its stones floated above, suddenly flaring brighter than all the others. It then returned to the body and rolled up to the head, dipping in and out from under the mass.

A voice resonated from the sound of the stones, “You must get the bright stone.”

Syler looked over to Twigly, “Do people actually fight the guardian?”

“You can try. I would not recommend it,” Twigly said flatly.

“I figured that.” Stepping up to the guardian, he gently tried to grab one of the shifting rocks. It easily pulled away from his grip and continued its trajectory.

“No climbing either. Great,” Syler looked around to the nearby trees. “Unless…”

Climbing the tree was simple enough, and the intertwining canopy was strong enough to support his weight. When he got within 10 feet of the guardian, the canopy unraveled at his feet. He tried to grab at the vines but they were suddenly slick with grease and he fell, landing with a roll. His legs throbbed from the hard landing, so he sat next to the guardian to rub the soreness.

“The final stage will be a test, against the guardian you’ll be pressed. That part is obvious. The choice you make will push resolve and force your viewpoint to evolve. Trickier. The choice I make? What choice?”

He crossed his legs and closed his eyes, taking in the grinding noise around him. It was too bright for him to shadowstep, and the stones were too small for that anyway. Nature seemed to be acting against him. At least the birds and beasts weren’t attacking him. Likely they left when the guardian showed. He thought of Cara and what she would have done.

Once, early in their relationship, he had shadowstepped to the roof of their house and put their market basket at the highest point to prank her. She turned into a large owl and flew to the basket, easily grabbed it and flung it at him, drawing an impressed laugh.

His eyes popped open, “That’s it!” He looked down and ran his fingers along the embossed nature rune on his armor. The warmth emanating from it was comforting. Focusing on the rune, he thought of the flight of a bird. He felt some of his own energy pulled into the rune, more than when he used his shadow tattoos. Exhaustion washed over him as he felt additional strips of leather spring from his back, the structure of wings forming around him, shadowy leather feathers extending to fill out the wingspan.

The wings were dark green, like the embossed rune, and he tentatively felt them out. His wings twitched, then suddenly expanded out, a ten-foot wingspan. He shook his arms and shifted from leg to leg to fight against the exhaustion, then he flapped his wings.

He rose a little off the ground and immediately fell back to his feet.

“Okay, you can do this.”

“It gets easier with practice,” Twigly said, having returned to his leaning position.

“I sure hope so.”

He flew a few laps around the outskirts of the clearing, staying close to the ground to reduce the chances of injuring himself, only falling a few times. Staying near the oak he flew up to the canopy, trying to grab an acorn. The movement of the wings was disorienting, and it took him several attempts before he was able to pluck it from the branch.

The wings faltered, several of the feathers dissipating in puffs of green. Syler fell, landing hard on a root and rolling up next to the guardian, the wings fully dissolved by the time he stopped himself.

“Ouch,” he muttered as he repositioned to lay on his back, looking up at the canopy. “Wings aren’t long term, it would seem.”

A thick-fingered hand came into view, “They never are, unless you are avian, of course.”

Syler took his hand and was pulled to his feet. “Thank you, Twigly.”

“You are welcome. You should rest before you try the wings again. Use them too often and it could drain too much of your Teknaus.”

“Which would kill me.”

“Yes.”

“Duly noted.” Syler motioned to the guardian, “Is there a time limit to the guardian?”

“There was not one for mine, but I do not know.”

“Right. Your first time as a guide.”

After resting for an hour, Syler tried again, beginning to feel out how to properly use his newfound ability. In the second attempt he learned to dodge left and right. In the fourth attempt, he learned to tuck his wings in a dive and flare them out just before smashing into the ground. After several more days of practice, with much guidance from Twigly, Syler felt comfortable enough to go for the bright stone.

Syler ran at the guardian, who seemed to sense his readiness, jumping at the last moment and summoning his wings, dodging to the left as the guardian swung its huge right arm at him. The bright stone still spun around the guardian’s head, and Syler darted for it, reaching out.

The left arm slugged him hard in the side, spinning him out wide from the stone. He recovered and flew around to the back side of the guardian. At least what he thought was behind. The shifting stones reversed the guardian’s direction as quickly as he could fly around it. Both arms swung out at him, seeking to crush him between. He tucked in his wings, falling beneath as the swirling stones crashed together.

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Syler darted up between the arms, dodging as branches from the canopy reached for him. He reached out as the branches finally grabbed his wings, tearing them from his back. It wasn’t painful.

Another swing from the guardian was. He pulled his arms in and willed the armor on his back to eject out as he flew 30 feet to slam into a large tree. The leather strip loops bent as he struck, softening his landing, though he gained a few more scrapes and cuts as he rolled several feet from the tree.

Taking huge gulps of air as the blow emptied his lungs, he didn’t dare move until he assessed the damage. He heard the heavy footfalls of Twigly.

“I think,” Syler wheezed, “my ribs are broken.”

“Let me see,” Twigly said, gently pulling Syler’s arms away, pausing as he noticed the green light emitting from his right hand. “You got the stone!”

Syler uncurled his fingers, the bright stone resting in his hand.

The graveled voice echoed through the clearing, “You have earned the Benediction of the Ancients.” The stones stopped swirling, the magic faded, and a pile of gravel remained.

----------------------------------------

Several days later, after numerous sessions with the healing magic of the druids, Syler stepped from Twigly’s treehouse, feeling much more refreshed than he had in a long time. He’d spent the long hours of rest contemplating the events of the trial, especially facing off against himself. And Chaldia. Cara was more with him than he thought she would ever be since her passing.

The click-clack of Tootsie’s nails on the stones, now spread back out over the clearing, echoed in the silence as they walked to the center. Calista stood before the altar, upon which rested the bright stone, still glowing with natural magic, and a clay jar filled with the liquid refined Teknaus she had attuned to Telperia, goddess of nature.

“You are ready.” It wasn’t a question.

“I am.”

The other druids stepped into the clearing, forming a circle along the outskirts. Calista hovered her hand over the jar, drawing tendrils of teknaus to float before her. She began moving her hands around the teknaus, forming an intricate series of runes hovering in the air, pushing and tweaking them with nimble fingers. A faint buzzing sound began several minutes into her work, steadily growing in intensity.

When it became nearly unbearable, Calista pushed the runes at Syler. They flew around him, expanding in size before lowering to the ground. The spirits of druids past—the Ancients—gathered, their ethereal forms like flickering flames in the twilight. Their presence was palpable, a collective embodiment of centuries of wisdom and guidance. Standing between Syler and Calista stood the ethereal form of Cara, smiling proudly at him.

"Syler," Calista's voice carried a resonance that seemed to touch the very soul, "you have journeyed through the trials that test both heart and spirit. You have embraced the teachings of our grove and forged a connection with the very essence of nature."

The Ancients took a step closer, ethereal hands beginning to interlock between those close enough to do so.

"With the blessings of the Ancients and the heart of the grove, we mark you a protector of nature," Calista's voice echoed through the clearing, each word a note in a powerful symphony of acceptance and unity. “Though you are no druid, you have been marked as a friend and ally.”

Another step closer, all intertwined now. The Ancients extended their arms at Syler, palms parallel to the ground, interlocked fingers. Cara never took her eyes away from him.

"May this rune remind you to wield your shadow magic responsibly, to protect the realm with the wisdom of the druids, and to uphold the delicate balance of nature."

A flash of skull and robe appeared behind Calista for only a moment before disappearing behind her. The ethereal figures one by one burst into mist that swirled around Syler before being pulled into his newest rune.

“I love you,” Cara mouthed silently, waiting to be the last figure to join into his rune.

“I love you, too,” Syler whispered, nodding to Calista as the ritual ended. The druids surrounding him cheered and ran up to welcome him into their family.

After a short and noisy gathering, the druids set out a celebratory feast. Twigly directed Syler to a seat next to Calista, near the middle of the long table. Tootsie sat in Syler’s lap and pawed at him for bites of chicken every chance she got.

“You are the first non-druid to complete the Trial of the Ancient Veil in at least a century,” Twigly said between spoonfuls of gravel.

“I did what was necessary.”

“Because you need help.”

“Because I need help.”

Calista dabbed a strangely spongy looking leaf to either side of her mouth, “You are an ally now, and help will be given provided it does not upset the balance.”

“Good to know,” Syler said, “because your help will be needed to correct the balance. The Lawsons will likely have bolstered their defenses, and there is no doubt a significant bounty out for my head.”

“I will not sacrifice any of our circle.”

“If it becomes too dangerous, I understand if you need to have your people back down. The majority of you will be used as a scare tactic anyway.”

Calista tilted her head slightly, “Scare tactic?”

“The Lawsons aren’t exactly complicated people. Raynard will ramp up the security around his facility. Maxwell and Admon will be in the sub-basement. They wouldn’t dream that most of the Circle of the Ancients would come knocking on their doorstep.”

“They killed one of our own, why would they not think that?”

“For the same reason that I had to complete the trial. You would not have helped me otherwise, right?”

“If it weren’t for the council, you still would not have our help,” Calista said.

Syler sighed, maintaining eye contact, “I understand you don’t like me.”

The crowd began to quiet as Calista responded, “Shadow-walker, your life lacked balance. Cara added the light to your darkness, love to your hatred, attempting to balance the scales. A noble goal, but not enough.”

“She gave me balance, gave me something to live for other than myself.”

“Her fate was tied with yours.”

“And you think I am responsible for her death.”

Calista slammed her fist into the table, “The Lawsons wouldn’t have killed her if it weren’t for you.”

He refused to raise his voice. “She would have married someone else, been killed anyway, and that person wouldn’t have been as uniquely qualified to even the scale. To repay the debt.”

“SHE WOULD HAVE MARRIED INTO THE LAWSONS AND BEEN FINE!” Calista yelled, tears streaming down her face.

Syler shook his head, “No, Calista. She didn’t want to marry into the Lawson family for political gain. She, and you, didn’t even know Admon or the Lawsons at all.”

“We would have gotten our-” she hesitated.

Syler’s eyes widened, “Our what, Calista? What do the Lawsons have that you would trade your only daughter for it?”

Any chatter there was dropped to silence.

“The Eldergrove Crown.”

“Let’s pretend I don’t know what that is,” Syler said with a bit more sarcasm than he intended.

“The crown is made from the intertwined branches of the central oak of our grove, inset with four tekrystals attuned to the energies of battle, crafting, knowledge, and wisdom.”

“Not nature?”

“Druids can already channel the power of nature, the Eldergrove Crown grants additional ability to defend the grove. It was created back during a time when our connection to nature was at its zenith, with the help from runecasters of the time. Its power was coveted by many, and it was stolen many years ago. We thought it lost to time, but a year or so ago the Lawsons brought us the news that they had somehow acquired the Eldergrove Crown and wanted to negotiate.”

“That’s why they wanted to marry a druid into the family. Because they can’t use the crown without one.” Calista nodded. “And they figured that a druid bound to them through marriage would be more amenable to do what they wanted.”

“Yes.”

Syler slipped a bit of chicken to Tootsie as he considered his response. “No doubt they have it locked away in their sub-basement. They wouldn’t trust it to be anywhere else. Certainly not any bank vaults in the city. I’ll get the crown for you.”

The muttering increased at the crowded table. Calista, to his great surprise, smiled warmly, “The Circle of the Ancients will owe you a great debt if you succeed.”

“Your help in this endeavor will be enough payment. Besides, I already owe you a great debt.”

Calista acknowledged his meaning, “We will be ready and awaiting your signal. Twigly?”

“Archdruid,” he answered.

“You will go with Syler, find a tree close enough to the plantation, and open the doorway to the oak, when the time is right, of course.” She held out a palm sized carving of a clock, the numbering inset with glittering gemstones.

Twigly hesitated, “If I may-”

“You understand Abon's Time rune, something few here do,” Callista said firmly. “Such understanding is needed to get us there quickly.”

“Yes, mistress,” he slid his chair back, stood, and bowed deeply as he took the object.

“We’ll head out tomorrow morning,” Syler told him, “after our feasting is done.”