Chapter 132

After picking up a few supplies, Naevira and I left Highcoin behind, heading south toward Ledgerton.

We followed the road as it wound lazily through rolling hills, the land stretched wide and open beneath a bright cerulean sky. Tall grass swayed in dull green waves, and a handful of soft, white clouds drifted overhead - slow and unbothered, like something painted rather than real. It reminded me of pictures I’d seen of the American Midwest.

We talked as we walked.

Naevira asked about my family, about the world - about everything. I answered what I could, and in turn asked her small questions - likes, dislikes, anything that might stir something loose in her memory.

Noraethil felt familiar to her, but nothing solid remained. Just impressions. Echoes.

And Elise… When Naevira said Elise felt familiar, it wasn’t recognition or even that she was a void-mage. It was something deeper - something emotional. She ed overwhelming sadness that she no longer bore. There was no memory of why - only that it once existed.

“You mentioned you speak Khuldren,” she said after a while. “But none of your children are dwarves.”

I smiled. “Dur,” I said. “He was with the others when we found them. About ten years old. All of them were orphans - that’s why they’d been taken in the first place.”

I glanced at her. She was listening intently, as usual.

“After we rescued them, they lived on the street for a while before they found me. Dur had an uncle in Northgate. It took some digging, but I found him and reunited them.”

I met her eyes. “He’s not my son. But he’s… close enough. I learned Khuldren because of him.”

“And Auralis?” she asked.

I huffed a quiet laugh. “Good memory. Nothing gets past you.”

She grinned.

“Thae,” I said, “is half-dragon. Which - apparently - shouldn’t be possible.”

“Serah is Thae’s mother?”

I nodded.

“Are you a dragon?”

I laughed outright. “No.”

Her brow furrowed. “But Serah is human.”

“Not entirely,” I itted, a little sheepish. “Serah is a dragon. She just… looks human most of the time. It’s magic.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I didn’t mention it earlier. Didn’t want to scare you. And it’s not exactly something I go around telling everyone. It’s not really a secret, but I wanted to protect her.”

Naevira considered that quietly.

“So a lie is acceptable,” she said slowly, “if it protects someone?”

I blinked. “Wow. Didn’t expect a philosophical debate today.” I gave her a crooked grin.

She didn’t return it - she just waited.

I exhaled. “That’s… complicated. Sometimes, yes. A lie can protect someone. But that doesn’t make it right. Sometimes the truth hurts more in the moment- but it’s better in the long run.”

She watched me carefully.

“Is that why you lied to those men at the inn?”

I held her gaze. “Yeah. But I wasn’t protecting them. I was protecting us.”

I gestured vaguely back the way we’d come. “They seemed decent enough. But if the Covenant of Mercy finds out we’re looking for them, they might disappear. Or worse - they might hurt someone. Us. Someone else. I don’t want that.”

She was quiet for a few steps.

“Maybe they are hurting others,” I said softly. “Maybe they’re not. But we keep what we’re doing a secret until we’re sure.” I said softly. “Maybe they’re not.”

She nodded, then asked, almost hesitantly, “What will we do if they are hurting others?”

I let out a slow breath. “We ask them to stop,” I said. “And if they won’t…” I hesitated. “…then we make them stop.”

She stopped walking. Horror crept slowly across her face, like something dawning all at once. “There’s no need for ****,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“I don’t want ****,” I said gently, easing toward her. “But sometimes it’s unavoidable.”

“We can talk,” she said, her voice trembling now, her eyes welling with tears. “No ****. Just words.”

I froze. I had said those words before.

To her.

The first time we met. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut, cold and sudden.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” I said quickly, closing the distance. I pulled her into a hug, one hand resting gently against the back of her head as I ran my fingers through her hair, slow and steady.

“It’s alright,” I murmured, trying to ground her - and maybe myself too.

* * *

Pieces began to fall into place, and the picture they formed turned my stomach.

Naevira had been born from a Weeping Gallows in Noraethil. That alone gave weight to the rumors surrounding the Covenant of Mercy. Whatever came from those trees could easily be mistaken for someone returned from the dead.

But it wasn’t that simple.

Yes, she could have learned Elithae before she emerged - listening, absorbing, echoing the voices around her. But that didn’t explain her name. It didn’t explain how she could read.

No… she wasn’t something that had simply grown. She had been taken, consumed, changed, and then returned.

She ed sadness, but no longer carried it. Knew it had existed, but not what had caused it.

“Some say those consumed are not always gone. That they return - changed - from the tree that claimed them. More root than flesh.” Those were Jackob’s words.

“They claim the Woundroots can strip away all pain. All suffering. Their leader, they say, is proof - you can through **** and come out better.” Also Jackob’s words.

Both descriptions fit Naevira too well.

And if that was true… people wouldn’t just believe it. They would flock to it. They would walk willingly into those trees - into destruction - for the chance to come back without pain. No matter the consequences.

That thought was chilling. But what truly filled me with dread was something far more immediate.

My words.

The first words I had spoken to her had shaped her.

“There’s no need for ****.”

They hadn’t just reassured her - they had rooted themselves inside her. A commandment, not a comfort. She recoiled from **** entirely. Flinched even when Elise playfully struck my arm.

And it went deeper than that. Her thorns turned inward. Not a single one faced outward - not even by accident. She couldn’t harm someone if she tried. And when threatened, she didn’t defend herself. She burrowed. Hid.

The others we’d fought-

Their thorns had faced outward. Offensive. Defensive. It didn’t matter. They were protected. Dangerous. Whole in a way she was not.

Naevira was… defenseless.

And I had made her that way. The weight of it settled heavy in my gut, pulling tight like a knot I couldn’t undo.

And it made me fear the alternative. If someone else had found her first…

If they had imprinted something else - loyalty, obedience, rage. If they had shaped her the way I had, but with intent. And if the rumors were true…

Then the Covenant wasn’t just preaching. They were building an army of Gallowborn, molded to fit whatever purpose they chose.

That night, I wrote again.

A letter to Master Iriandor, detailing everything we’d learned. I asked him to find anyone who had lived in Noraethil - anyone who might have known Naevira. To look into visitors before they abandoned the village. To return and see if more Gallowborn had emerged.

I told him what I feared - but not all of it. Because a darker thought lingered beneath it all - that the ones we’d encountered weren’t just confused survivors… but something placed. Directed. Sent. Sleeper agents waiting to fracture the world wherever they walked.

I wrote a second letter to my women. Told them what we’d learned. Asked them to be vigilant. Careful. Watch the children - now more than ever.

Then I sealed them both.

I retrieved my guitar. The notes came soft and steady, something simple to anchor my focus. As I played, my mana flowed into the earth, sinking deep, resonating - finding the slow, steady pulse beneath everything.

The Earthpulse.

I reached into it, plucked at it like a string, and called out.

“What are you doing?” Naevira asked, her curiosity immediate. She felt it - the shift in the ground, the pull of magic.

“Calling a friend,” I said.

Moments later, the dirt stirred. Stone pushed upward. Soil shifted and filled. Something rose - taking shape as it climbed.

Naevira slipped behind me.

I set the guitar aside as the form resolved into something vaguely humanoid. A large stone formed the head. Clay and layered rock shaped the torso. Smaller stones made limbs - hands, fingers, feet.

“Greetings, Shaper,” the elemental said, making her way forward.

“Hey, Iolite. How’ve you-” I paused. My eyes narrowed. “…are those nipples?”

“Yes,” she replied plainly. “Do you like them?”

My brain stalled. “I- what?”

“My observations indicate that females in the above stone possess nipples. I am female. I spend time in the above stone. Therefore, nipples.” She explained it like a simple equation.

I dragged a hand down my face, trying to process. She was waiting for an answer that I didn’t know how to give.

Did I encourage her? If I didn't like them, would it hurt her feelings? What was the correct response to… this? I was so confused.

“They’re, uh… great,” I said finally.

Were they? They were two small stones tacked on to her torso like an after thought. But she didn’t seem concerned with accuracy - only approval.

She made a soft, grinding sound - like pebbles shifting together. Reminiscent of a cat purring.

I took that as a sign I made the right choice.

“How may I be of service?” she asked.

I shook my head, forcing my thoughts back on track. “Would you be willing to deliver two messages?”

“Certainly.”

“This one goes to Elarion. This one to Mirri.”

She accepted the letters with a nod.

“Thank you,” I said, reaching out to pat her head.

That same low, rumbling purr answered me. Then she sank back into the earth, the ground closing over her as if she had never been there at all.

* * *

We spent the next day - and part of the next - heading south toward Ledgerton.

The road stretched lazily across open plains, rolling hills covered in dull green grass that offered little in the way of shade. The sun beat down without mercy, but I barely noticed it anymore.

Cold didn’t bother me. Heat didn’t bother me. I could walk barefoot through snow, reach into flame without flinching - at least for a time. That last one was probably Ashira’s doing. One more gift left behind after Nyssira consumed her.

Naevira and I talked as we walked.

She asked questions - endless, curious, and bright. About the world. About my family. About anything and everything. And I guided the conversation where I could, nudging gently at her past, now that I had some idea of what she’d been through.

It didn’t help. No new memories surfaced. Just the same fragments - familiarity without substance.

All the while, my thoughts kept circling.

What was I going to do with her?

I couldn’t leave her alone - not like this. Not after what I’d done to her. She’d be taken advantage of. Hurt. Maybe worse. By now, I was certain she wasn’t a threat to anyone. If anything, she was the opposite.

Maybe I could bring her home, but I needed answers first.

And then there was Tansy.

Vel still hadn’t reported back. Days had ed - over a week since anyone had seen her. No sign. No word. And as much as we clashed, she was still my daughter. The worry gnawed at me.

A flash of crimson broke across the hills ahead, just off the road.

My stomach dropped. I knew that color. That slick, sickly red.

I reached for Naevira. “There’s a Weeping Gallows ahead,” I said quietly. “We need to be careful. I don’t know what’s there - Gallowborn, people, something worse. Stay low. We’ll approach slowly.”

She looked at me, concern flickering in her eyes.

“I’ll protect you,” I said. I sounded more certain than I felt.

We crouched low as we crested the next rise. Laughter drifted toward us - sharp and cruel - the kind that came from someone enjoying another’s pain.

I touched her shoulder. “Stay here. I’ll take a look.”

She nodded and I moved ahead alone. Crested the hill. And saw it.

The Weeping Gallows stood crooked and twisted - short, wide-branched, its limbs twisting outward like claws. Barely fifteen feet tall, its trunk no thicker than two feet across, but its presence was unmistakable. Oppressive.

Two men stood beneath it.

A third hung from its trunk.

Even from a distance, I could see the nails. Driven through his hands. Blood still slick against the bark. One of the men held a hammer, his hands red, his grin wide and ugly.

“Now you see what happens when someone double-crosses us,” he said.

The man on the tree was barely conscious. Bruised. Swollen. Tears cutting lines through the blood on his face. Branches had already begun to close around him, curling in like ribs. Thorns bit deep into his flesh.

“Just tell us where the money is and we’ll let you down, Harvey,” the other man said.

Harvey sobbed.

“Yeah, tell us where our fucking money is, mate!”

I rose from the grass. “If there’s money involved,” I said, “count me in.”

Both men turned. The one without the hammer drew a long knife.

“Who the fuck are you?” the hammer-wielder barked.

“Just a guy ing through,” I said, moving closer. Unity tapped the ground with each step. “Wondering where this money is.”

“Piss off,” he spat. “Unless you want to ol’ Harvey here.”

The man with the knife hesitated. His eyes scanned the hills. “Loam… I’ve got a bad feeling about this. We should go.”

“What?” Loam scoffed. “Two of us, one of him. We’ll kick his ass. That staff alone is worth a gold, easy.”

“Can’t spend it if we’re dead,” the other muttered. “I’m not sticking around.” Then he turned and ran.

“Coward!” Loam shouted after him. Then grinned at me. “More for me.” He lunged.

It was sloppy. He overextended. Overconfident.

I stepped aside and drove my knee into his gut. He doubled over.

“Your friend’s right,” I said calmly. “This isn’t worth it. Leave.”

He swung the hammer again. I caught it on Unity, twisted, and swept his legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard.

I planted the staff against his throat. “One last chance,” I said. “Run.” I stepped back.

He scrambled up, hurled the hammer at me, and bolted.

I knocked it aside and watched him go. Then I turned to Harvey.

He didn’t look good. But if I could get him down… I could probably heal him.

The whispers started as I approached. “What are you going to do with Tansy?” “What kind of father are you?”

I clenched my jaw.

“This is going to hurt,” I told Harvey. “But I’ll get you down.” I grabbed his hand and tore it free from the nail.

He screamed.

“Tansy needs direction,” the whispers murmured. “I can show you the way.”

“Be at ease,” Naevira said beside me. I hadn’t even heard her approach. Her voice was steady. Firm.

Harvey’s sobbing quieted.

“The pain will end,” she told him.

“Naevira - step back,” I said sharply. “This tree is dangerous.”

I moved to his other side, careful of the branches. They weren’t fast - but there were too many of them. I tore his other hand free. He only whimpered this time.

“Endure,” she said softly. “Learn who you are. Let it take away all that you aren’t, so that you may become who you were meant to be.”

“Naevira,” I snapped, harsher now. “Step back.”

I grabbed one of the branches pinning him and pulled. Slowly, it gave.

She pressed her hand to his chest. “Father. Son. Husband.”

Harvey trembled. Tears falling freely now.

“A good man,” she continued. “There was no need to take their money. It only brought pain. No need to harm those on the road. It only brought pain. No need to seek comfort elsewhere. It only brought pain.”

Her voice softened.

“Release it. Release all that you aren’t so you may become the man you were meant to be.”

The branches ignored her. They reached for me instead. Like they recognized a kindred spirit within her.

I pulled another limb free. Harvey sagged, impaling himself deeper on the thorns as gravity took hold. He only whimpered.

The branches pressed against my back. I shifted, moving around the tree.

“Endure,” she whispered. “Learn. Release.”

I tore the last branch away.

He collapsed.

I grabbed his collar and dragged him clear of the tree.

Naevira blinked - like she was waking from a dream. Then she rushed forward. “Will he be alright?”

Music rose around me - soft keys, steady rhythm. “I gotta take a little time…” I sang quietly. His bleeding slowed. “…a little time to think things over…” His wounds began to close. Bruises faded. Flesh knit. By the end of the verse, he was breathing easier. Alive.

He still cried.

“You’ll live,” I told him. “I would suggest you stay away from those men. And that tree.”

He nodded shakily, wiping at his face. “Thank you…” He sat up, wincing at the pain. He hesitated. “What now?” Fear lingered in his voice. Waiting for the cost.

“Now?” I said. I gave Naevira a pointed look. “You go home,” I said. “To your wife and children.”

Naevira looked away, shame creeping across her face.

“Think about what you did,” I added. “And don’t do it again.”

He nodded quickly.

“But first-”

His shoulders tensed.

“Do you know where I can find the Covenant of Mercy?”