It had been days since Camdyn and Flora first spoke of the Withering. Days filled with wandering, observing, and trying anything they could think of. They moved from grove to grove, marking off what could still be saved. And when they discovered Flora could heal the land in brief, fleeting bursts, they clung to that hope, attempting to undo the damage done one section at a time. Camdyn had hoped that by treating the localized areas of decay, they could somehow slow its progression or diminish its impact until, eventually, there was nothing left of its disease. But it wasn’t enough.

  Wherever they restored, the rot returned faster and hungrier, like it had tasted defiance and craved more. The roots they tried to mend darkened again within hours. Not even the wildflowers were spared, turning to dust—along with their efforts.

  Camdyn watched a patch of once-thriving ferns Wither before his eyes, the green fading to grey, curling in on itself like smoke dissolving into air.

  He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s like it knows,” he grumbled. “Like it’s watching us try.”

  Flora knelt beside the dying plants, her fingers brushing the soil. Even now, there was still a faint warmth beneath the surface but it pulsed weakly, like a fading heartbeat.

  “I can feel it draining me, Camdyn.” her voice tinged with weariness. “I don’t know how much more I can give...”

  Camdyn knelt beside her. “Then don’t. Not if it’s hurting you. We’ll have to find another way.”

  But how? The unspoken question lingered in the air, heavy as the scent of wilted blossoms surrounding them. They had spent the last few days arguing over strategy, drawing rough maps in the dirt, and speculating aloud. Camdyn had even suggested the unthinkable—uniting humans and nymphs together for the greater good.

  But the decay moved faster than diplomacy. Faster than their efforts.

  “It feels like everything we do doesn’t stop it. Just… inconveniences it.” He paused. “You once said the Withering was like a root system, right? Maybe we need to stop treating the symptoms and cut straight to the source.”

  “We don't know where the heart lies,” she reminded him.

  “Then we look for it.”

  “You speak as though the answer is waiting just beyond the next hill.”

  He met her gaze. “Couldn't it be?”

  A long silence stretched between them. The wind rustled through the brittle remains of nearby trees. Flora closed her eyes.

  “There are old songs,” she said finally. “Stories passed down of a place untouched. A cradle of first growth.” She opened her eyes. “The Verdant Deep.”

  Camdyn straightened. “Stories? But it could be real?”

  “Yes, but I know of no one who’s been. It lies beneath layers of silence, shielded by wild magic. At its center lies Aurevyn.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “...A god?”

  She shook her head slowly. “Not a god. Not like the ones your kind used to name. Aurevyn is at the source of all magic and life. The Balance. Neutral. Ever-turning. Not good or evil. Just…is.”

  “So, if we find this Aurevyn, we can heal what's broken?”

  “Perhaps, but no one agrees on how to reach the Verdant Deep.” She paused. “But we may not need the path. Only the direction.”

  “I can see the wheels turning…” Camdyn egged her on.

  Flora hesitated. “The Sirins.”

  “Like the ones that lured sailors to wreck their ships?”

  “No, these are guardians of the known. Vessels of prophecy.”

  Camdyn stepped closer. “Ok… So, we find where they live then.”

  “You don’t understand. They aren't bound to one place. They drift between lands, between realms.”

  He gave her a dry look. “Of course they do. Any chance they vacation somewhere?”

  “During celestial events, they tend to gather at the Celestine Spire. It's nestled in a cliffside. I could find a tree to take us there.”

  “Great, so when's the next full moon?”

  “Twenty-five days. But it's no use, it would have to be a much grander event. An eclipse. A comet. A blood moon.”

  “We don't have that kind of time.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “No one holds down the fort?”

  “I don't know….”

  “Maybe we can knock and just see who answers.”

  “It's cloaked in Old Magic. Humans haven't been able to enter in ages. They’re no longer invited—”

  “But you can get there, right? Can you take me with you, like with the portals?”

  “We could try, but that isn't my territory. I fear… I won't be able to protect you there.”

  A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “It’s not your job to protect me, Flora. I’ll be ok. I’m not as helpless as I look.”

  She pulled away. “It’s not just that. I fear this journey in itself will prove too great for you. Humans have become so vulnerable after their fall. Without their abundance and their machines… I fear what this path will demand of you. What it will take…”

  “Well, that’s for me to decide. My burden, not yours. And wherever this leads. I’ll face it,” he spoke firm, but gently, “We can face it together.”

  “Does that not terrify you?”

  “Oh, of course. But as a wise man once said: if it's important enough, sometimes you just gotta do it scared.”

  “Hm. You are a stubborn human, Camdyn. I still have not decided if you are foolish or brave, but your heart is steady. I trust it. And I’d choose no other to walk this path with.”

  “That makes two of us,” he smiled.

  Now more serious, she asked, “When would we leave?”

  Tonight, was his immediate thought, but it quickly soured. He had a whole colony of people to tell of his departure. He considered, for a brief moment, just leaving without saying anything. But he couldn’t do that. Not to the people he loved.

  He had no choice but to face them.

  “Camdyn?” Flora’s voice pulled him back.

  “I need to tell them.”

  She watched him, concern etched in the curve of her brow. “Will they even believe you?”

  “Probably not, but I have to try,” he replied. “Meet me at dawn.”

  “I’ll be there.”