“Only Dryads are Guardians!” Oaklyyn cries out, my gaze sliding from Yvan’s to find her glaring at me. I’m caught up short by the pain shining in her eyes, her voice breaking when it comes. “You’ve cared for the Forest for one minute,” she grits out, motioning sharply toward the other Dryads. “We’ve cared for it for thousands of years. And we’ll still care for it well after you’ve all killed each other off and finished trying to destroy us, as well!” Her lips twist into a trembling sneer. “It will be just like all the times before. We’ll be left to nurture the remnants of life you leave behind after your senseless destruction.”

“There won’t be any remnants left this time,” Tierney cuts in. “I’ve seen the Shadow Void in the water. I’ve felt it.” She pauses, as if struggling to convey something too hellish for words. “What this Tree told Elloren—it’s true. There’s a bigger fight underneath the obvious one. And we need to join together to face it. All of us. Allies and enemies alike.”

The outrage in Oaklyyn’s eyes intensifies. “You don’t know what it means to join with our Forest!”

“Then teach us,” I implore.

“It can’t be taught!” Oaklyyn lashes back.

I take hold of the branch sheathed behind my belt and hold it up, magic flowing through my feet toward it in a low rumble. “I have Black Witch power. And I’m no longer bound by anything save the connection I’ve made to the Forest and my horde-bond. Show me how to use my Dryad power so I can fight with you to save Erthia.” I look to them all. “I need you. We need each other.”

I feel Sylvan’s gaze on me and meet his formidable stare. “What do you seek, Black Witch?” he asks.

“To learn the Forest’s spells and how to wield them.” I tighten my grip on the branch as the image of a very different branch bears down on my mind. “And there’s a Wand. A green Wand. III showed it to me in the vision. I used to possess it, and it left me. But... III wants me to find it. I think it’s the Great Wand from all the religious myths.”

Keen interest sparks in his gaze. “What did your Wand look like?”

I describe the Wand and his piercing look intensifies. “Where did you last see it?”

“On a mountaintop balcony overlooking Voloi. When Vogel took hold of my power, it fled and fell. A kestrel caught it and flew away.”

“Even wands know to flee from her,” Oaklyyn snipes witheringly.

Sylvan pays her hostile comment no heed. “What did III show you?”

I describe the III’s vision of branches, leaves, and flowers springing forth from the Wand.