Silver sprang to his left, his jump taking him much higher into the air than he would have thought possible. He landed hard, negating the feeling of weightlessness created by the high leap. He felt his ankle twist beneath him, and he fell to the ground, clutching at his leg, helplessly watching as the Portal Tree fell in slow motion.
He realized that it wasn’t gravity that was strange in this dream — it was time. Maybe he still had time to save the tree. But how?
Silver’s mind raced, even as the tree’s fall slowed even further. He willed it to stop, and it froze in place, another lightning bolt freezing midway to the ground as well, the lashing rain [frozen] in the air.
It couldn’t be that easy to completely reverse it, though, could it?
To heal his hand, he had used green-colored energy. Could the same energy heal the tree? Was the tree even uprooted in the real world? Where the hell even was he?
Silver could feel himself uprooting, so he closed his eyes again. He always thought better with closed eyes. He breathed in. And out. In. And out. In. And out.
And felt himself re-root in the now, his panic ebbing. He had a choice. He could try to stop the tree from falling, right it and heal its roots here in this spell place. Or he could focus on trying to return to the real world and heal the tree there.
Instinctively, he knew that the tree’s predicament was real. This was what Kaelon and Duvslaine and their friends were up to — they had weakened the trees roots and then summoned a storm to fell it.
Moving his hands through the immobile rain drops, Silver noticed that each one he displaced strengthened him somehow. Could he draw power from the rain?
He closed his eyes again and flung his arms wide, a broad grin spreading across his face as he twirled in place, moving his hands up and down as though he was making a snow angel, in order to disrupt as many drops as he could. He began to dance around, laughing wildly as he moved around the tree, filling up his reserves.
Finally, he stopped and opened his eyes, sensing that it was time. He was full of power, drunk with it, and he lifted his hands upward, placing them on the tree’s diagonally-positioned trunk, savoring the feel of the rough bark against this palms and fingers.
Silver stepped forward, gently pushing the tree upward. It resisted, but he could feel that it wasn’t the tree resisting him; it was the place. This artificial place that Duvslaine had created and Kaelon had sent him to, in order to get him out of the way.
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But as he moved forward, he soaked in the power of the rain, and every drop of energy he used up was immediately replaced.
Finally, the tree was standing upright, and Silver knelt in front of it, holding his open palms downward toward the exposed roots. He could see scarlet cords binding the roots, the same kind of cords that had bound his core.
He could sense that he didn’t have time to waste unraveling the cords slowly, so he drew his knife and whispered to the tree, “I’m sorry.”
“Just do it,” came an answering whisper from among the leaves. “Please hurry.”
Silver nodded and began cutting swiftly through the silken cords, mindful that the cords themselves were not at fault, doing his best to only cut as much as he needed to, and trying to touch the roots as little as possible too.
As each cord fell, it turned into a snake. Most of the time, the snakes hissed their thanks and wriggled away. Once, the snake writhed about, a deep cut through its middle.
Silver paused in his work, holding his palm over the cut and directing green energy into it. The snake’s flesh knitted together and the snake thanked him and left.
At last, all of the cords were gone, and Silver turned his attention to the roots, gathering as much of the bright, grassy healing light as he could and settling it into them. He smiled joyfully as the roots began to move, digging themselves back deeply into the soil around the tree.
Silver stood and took a step backward. And found himself standing in the real world, in front of the real Portal Tree, on the Humanland side, in the parking lot in front of the coffee shop that used to be Devon’s house.
Devon stood in front of him in full Fae glory, his sword drawn and bloody, a dark-haired Fae on the ground in front of him.
Fiona watched, her face stony, as Devon stabbed his sword into her father’s heart, killing him.
All around them, a battle had clearly raged, as bodies littered the ground and weary warriors cleaned weapons or guarded others who sat bound in groups. Silver recognized Fae on both sides, and even some humans who had stayed at the motel.
The mingled stench of blood and feces hung heavy in the air.
The woman he had met earlier, Stephanie approached and put an arm around Fiona, leading her away.
“Is it over?” asked Silver, looking at Devon.
“Yes,” said Devon. “Now it is over. How is the tree?”
“I don’t know,” said Silver. “I did what I could.”
Gwennyth appeared, walking a circle around the tree. She must have come from the Faerieland side. She placed a hand on the tree’s trunk.
More Fae followed, and Silver saw that it was the Council, the ones he had met in the treehouse in the Fae city of Harbor. The Council stood together in a ring around the tree, holding it, testing it.
“It is well,” said Gwennyth, gravely. “It has been healed.”
Everyone present, human or Fae, victorious and captive alike, turned to stare at Silver.
“You healed the tree?” said Fiona.
Devon roared. “He healed the tree!”
Silver swayed, and would have fallen, but he was caught by someone behind him. He turned to look and saw Rozsa’s smiling face. “Let’s get you out of here.”