text: The shuddering passed. Val sucked in another breath beside me.
  
  "Wes?" she asked when she stopped shivering. "Does that happen often?"
  
  "Yeah," I decided. "It happens a lot more than people realize it does."
  
  The woad tattoos around us flared up again.
  
  "The Monarch of the Grove bears witness to two new Earthborn encountering Universal Law," the dying tree intoned formally. "Though dying, I rejoice to be honored in this fashion."
  
  <Greater things are yet to come…>
  
  <I will be more and not less.>
  
  Those words still bounded off of the walls of my mind.
  
  I looked down at the dead mother at my feet.
  
  I looked up at the dying tree over my head.
  
  All is not lost. Greater things are meant to come.
  
  "Elder Monarch," I asked out loud. "Where are the children of the mother who invaded this place?"
  
  "What?" Breena asked, tilting her head and she fluttered over to me. "What are you planning, Wes?"
  
  "All of the Keepers have been slain except for the unhatched brood incubating near the treasure chamber, located behind the largest red curtain within this cavern," the great tree replied.
  
  "Treasure chamber?" Val asked out loud. "Why does a tree have a treasure chamber?" Then she realized she had spoken aloud, and ducked her head apologetically.
  
  "The treasure chamber was created before my transplant to Avalon," the Monarch advised. "The material inside was given by the kings of the Woadlands as tribute and gratitude for aid offered by Avalon in the past. The material consists of currency, precious metals and minerals, rare crafting material, several crafted items, and finally an artifact created to be part of the regalia for the Lord of Avalon, to permanently bond the Woadlands to the new Lord of the mist-clad world."
  
  "Just to clarify," I said intently. "The Lord of Avalon was once recognized as the supreme ruler of all of Avalon's sister worlds, not just Avalon itself?"
  
  "Affirmative. Such authority should still be the case."
  
  That didn't make sense because there wasn't even a Lord of Avalon when the Keepers and other monsters invaded. But I was getting sidetracked. I moved to the largest curtain and pulled it backwards.
  
  To my surprise, the room behind the curtain was larger than the room housing the woad-pool. Piles of gold and silver coins glittered on the floor. Wooden logs and ingots of various metals I didn't recognize lay in another corner in the giant room. Rows of armor and weapon stands, webbed as if to keep others from disturbing them, lined the walls. In the center of the room, however, was a wooden altar rising directly from the floor. On top of the altar, resting on a white linen cloth, was an axe, with its handle made of a kind of wood that resembled the inside of the Woadfather Monarch and a blade made of the same metal my silvery short sword was crafted from. The weapon gleamed in the dark, with lines and glyphs similar to what I had seen in the Woadfather trees scrawled all over the entirety of the weapon.
  
  The blade of the weapon reminded me of the kind of single-bladed sparth axes the Irish used in the late Dark Ages, except that the handle was a bit shorter and the blade was much larger. Dad would have insisted that the weapon was unbalanced, but as I saw the weapon float just above the altar I decided that wasn't going to be the case.
  
  The last item in the room was a group of round, pearl-looking orbs wrapped in layers and layers of red silk. There were no more than a dozen, and when I realized how carefully packed they were I knew they had to be Prodonti's unhatched children.
  
  "Alright," I said out loud. "I found what I was looking for. Elder Monarch, is there any way to save you? In any fashion or form?"
  
  Outside, another massive limb fell from the covered sky. I heard it crumble through the air and into the branches of the waiting Woadfathers.
  
  "Negative," the tree replied. "I battled the Usurper in direct combat. My wounds have long been fatal. And there is insufficient power to pass on into a new life."
  
  "How would you do so if you had power?" I persisted, not willing to give up. "What would you need?"
  
  <All is not lost>, the words echoed in my mind. <And greater things are yet to come.>
  
  "If I could produce a seed, my knowledge and memories would be passed down," the Monarch intoned. "But all of my seeds were damaged in my battle with the Usurper. Only one remains, and not in sufficient state to survive on its own."
  
  A green folded leaf floated upward in the pool of woad sap, and it opened up like a lily pad, revealing a large, pink-petaled flower bulb in the center. The flower opened up as well, and at the center of the blossom was a small, almond-shaped seed.
  
  "This is my only remaining seed. It would be viable, but it lacks sufficient nutrients and mana to begin life. Therefore, I must pass on. I suggest the Lord of Avalon request another of my kind from the world of the Woadlands."
  
  "There are no more of your kind," Breena said softly. "You are all that is left."
  
  For a moment the Monarch went silent. The Gaelguard all looked at each other with wide eyes at Breena's news.
  
  "Then the time has come for my race to pass on," the Monarch finally said. "I regret that I must fail the Lord of Avalon. I regret more deeply, that the future of the Woadlands has dimmed."
  
  "No," I said out loud.
  
  I refused to let my tomorrow be any less glorious than my today. Not without a fight.
  
  "Per the law you have revealed to me, we are not to diminish." I turned to look at my bonded familiar. "You may very well pass, but not in this fashion, where you and we become less. You are not dead yet. I will not accept your apology until we find a way forward."
  
  I was being greedy. We had accomplished much today. But my enemies had proven even greedier than myself. If I wanted to keep anything all, I would have to fight death, hell, and whoever else for every priceless scrap I had.
  
  <*All is not lost,*> the quiet voice whispered in affirmation.
  
  "I can help," Breena said firmly. "I'm sorry I didn't speak sooner, Wes, I wasn't sure until I saw the seed. But sprite-folk are supposed to help cultivate nature. Some say we came from the Woadfathers ourselves, to take their place as caretakers of the wood. I've never tried to heal something as powerful as a Woadfather," she added uncertainly. "Much less one of their Monarchs. But I have the right magic for this, and my nature as a fairy can restore drained plants. So I can try," she ended firmly.
  
  I could see the uncertainty in her eyes. So I spoke to it.
  
  "Okay, Breena, we'll risk it," I said calmly, nodding at her. "But this may help you focus: you're not trying to bring back an entire Monarch. You're just helping one be born."
  
  Her eyes twinkled at that.
  
  "Thanks, Wes," she smiled. "That does help. And wait." Her eyes widened in realization. She peered at the seed once more. "Life energy," she whispered. "Everything releases energy while it grows. If we had more life energy, from other things about to be born, then that would help this process even further." She looked up at me. "The Keeper eggs, Wes. They're full of constantly growing life."
  
  I blinked as I considered that.
  
  "Is that safe?" I asked. "What would happen to the eggs?"
  
  I had a promise to keep.
  
  "Nothing," the pink-haired fairy insisted. "Well, nothing bad. They'd form a connection with the Monarch's seed, a kinship with it. It would make them healthier, even change their nature a tiny bit."
  
  "That was what she wanted. Can we move them?"
  
  "You should be able to. As long as you're careful," Breena replied.
  
  No one was really crazy about the idea, but all signs pointed to it helping. So we carefully lifted the sheet of pearl-eggs and laid them on the open flower. They didn't stir, and for a moment I worried about them hatching and eating the flower. But according to Breena's healing magic they wouldn't hatch any time soon. She lifted the seed, and then we placed the red silken bed on top of the flower. The silk felt soft, and not sticky, which meant we could carry it easily. The center of the flower seemed to pulse at the eggs resting on top of it.
  
  She flew down to the lily pad floating in the sap. "I'm ready. I know what to do." She lay down and shrank to the size of the tiny seed. Then she wrapped herself around it, cuddling it like a pillow, the pearl-like eggs surrounding her like stuffed animals.
  
  <Don't worry, Wes,> she sent back, as the pink petals closed around her. <I'll be okay. In fact, this is kind of comfy.>
  
  I nodded at her. Woad tattoos flared as the Monarch spoke once more.
  
  "I will spend the remainder of my power ensuring the life of my progeny as well as the life of the sprite-folk attempting to save it. I ask that all but the Earthborn leave the inside of my body. My grove will ensure that they will be in no danger during this time."
  
  "We will go," Alum answered with a bow toward the pool. "We will remain outside, as your honor guard while you pass on, Father Monarch. And we will lend what power we have to help."
  
  His people began filtering outside, taking those who were still healing with them. My own team began leaving as well, most of them giving me an encouraging pat on the shoulder on their way out. Val walked by me, then hesitated.
  
  "Wes? Is it alright if I stay?" she asked quietly.
  
  "The Lord of Avalon's household may remain," the Monarch intoned. "The hatching of the seed will benefit from their presence."
  
  "Household?" Val asked, looking up.
  
  "You're my sister, so you count," I answered. "Hope you're ready for royal obligations, kiddo." She snorted at me, and I looked back at the closed pod. "How can we help?"
  
  "The Lord of Avalon empowers all rituals by the lending of his presence and authority to occur. Having your entire household present will benefit this act even further. I will now put my entire strength into ensuring the successful hatching of my seed. Goodbye, Earthborn. We will not speak again in this lifetime. Please take care of my seed."
  
  "I will," I answered calmly.
  
  I watched Breena's lily pad sink back into the woad sap. Then, out of instinct, I pulled out Carnwennan, nicked my finger, and flung the drop of blood into the water. I felt power thrum through the air as I did so. Val pulled out her dagger and did the same.
  
  "Earthborn blood, royal blood," the tree gasped one final time. "Thank… you."
  
  <You should have just asked me for it,> I thought quietly, but I knew the Monarch couldn't spare any more focus for conversation. So I stood, watched, and waited for my friend to come back out and be okay.
  
  "No… king… here."
  
  Throughout the tree, the glow from the woad sap suddenly flickered.
  
  "Broken thing," the voice that had taunted me in the ghostly catacombs spoke once again. As it did so, I saw black claw marks appear all over the walls inside the tree, as if they had been invisible earlier. "You reach for too much. You reach for more than you can handle. Go home, broken Earthborn. You cannot grasp such power with a hand full of wounds."
  
  "Who is this?" Val asked, looking around with eyes wide.
  
  "The boogeyman stuck at the bottom of Avalon," I growled. "You sure you want to do this again? Because I distinctly remember you getting smacked around the last time we worked out our differences."
  
  "One victory does not undo your failures," the voice echoed from the claw marks along the walls. "One healthy patch of skin does not make the rest of your bloody wounds healed. And one lucid moment does not undo a future of certain insanity. Your body reeks of wounds, your broken head rings with screams, and your soul weeps with past failures. You are a billion years too late to be the man Avalon needed you to be. Go home, Earthborn. Go back to your planet of people who failed to save the Expanse."
  
  "Sorry," I snarled, "I can't hear you from whatever bottom of a well you're stuck under. Let me go get Lassie to help out."
  
  Black mist flowed out of the scars in the walls.
  
  "Keep snarling, little Earthborn." The mist formed together in the center of the room over the Woad-pool. The black smog condensed into a small ball, then limb-like tendrils stretched out of it, forming a humanoid shape. "Pretend you are safe from my wrath."
  
  He had a point, although he should have tried to hurt me before now if he was really able to.
  
  <Are you still there?> I thought at the small quiet voice. <Because I think this is where you are supposed to step in and help.>
  
  "Invictus will not help you, little Earthborn," the sinister voice whispered. "He cannot. He is still not real. And you are too broken. See?"
  
  The smoggy figure flickered one of its limbs, and my brain began screaming.
  
  I remembered being ripped. And torn. And decapitated. And burned. And drowned. And eaten. All at once. I went to my knees, clutching my forehead and screaming in agony.
  
  "Wes!" Val shouted. "What do I do?"
  
  I had no idea what to tell her.
  
  "What?" the sinister voice asked, surprised. "It should not be this effective… ah, I see. You are Aegrim's son."
  
  "I… am… not," I growled out, prying one of my hands off my face just long enough to get a good look at what was going on. The Usurper had walled off the exit with a mass of clawed tendrils. I heard shouting from the other side and the clanging of metal. My allies were trying to fight their way through to me. But the cracking pain in my skull told me they would be too late.
  
  "You are his son," the smoke-creature affirmed quietly. "You are broken and pained, no matter what face you wear among your little subjects. Ugly, stupid boy. You cannot be king. You cannot be Pendragon. Your skies are too low, your heavens are too heavy, the gods you have offended are all too great. Kneel, thief. Kneel and suffer for your ambition."
  
  More pain blazed into my mind. I felt my old disability try to reassert itself.
  
  <Cripplehead,> a voice taunted in my mind. I could not even tell who it belonged to, but it repeated all the same.
  
  <Cripplehead…>
  
  "I warned that you were still broken, ugly little Earthborn."
  
  I growled and ripped one of my hands off of my face. I slammed the appendage into the ground, bracing against it. Slowly, ever so slowly, I started to rise. The man-thing of smoke and smog just chuckled at my efforts.
  
  "Stop it!" Val shrieked, brandishing her sword at the smog-ghost. "Leave him alone right now!"
  
  The Usurper chuckled again.
  
  "Young girl-thing. You cannot save him. When did you ever matter?"
  
  "Wes!" Val screamed, turning. "Wes, tell me what I can do! Please!"
  
  <Daughter,> the small quiet voice said, and through my haze of pain I saw Valerie whip her head around.
  
  <Daughter. Use me. I rage.>
  
  "What? I—" She shook away her confusion. "How?"
  
  <I will show you.>
  
  I saw Val blink again, drop her blade, and walk over to me.
  
  "Let the shadow create shade and rest," she suddenly intoned, and something cool and dark began to flow from her hands. "And let the rest create new life and new opportunities. Burdens give way to rest, rest gives way to growth, growth gives way to victory and then more rest. Those who struggle, rage, and strive are neither abandoned nor doomed."
  
  "What?" the Usurper hissed. "What is this? What is she doing?"
  
  "Let the shade create respite from heat and the light that blinds. Darkness exists not to harm, but to shelter, so that the sheltered have room to heal and grow. Let there be a hiding place for the weary, for the wounded, for the weak. Then let them emerge, the weary renewed, the wounded whole once more, and the weak made strong once again. By my command—" Val's voice rose—"let the night bring its rest, so that we may heal and tomorrow may be greater than today!"
  
  There was no loud clap, like when Invictus rang through me. There was only silence, and coolness. But in that place, my pain retreated, back to the place it always went after it couldn't holler and scream at me anymore. I took a moment to suck in a fresh and painless breath, and then I lifted my head and slowly began to rise back to my feet.
  
  "What?" the misty figure snapped. "How? You should still be blubbering on the floor. What did she do?"
  
  "She raged," I guessed. <And is it my turn?> I asked the small quiet voice. This time he answered.
  
  <It is time,> the voice said. <Rage with me.>
  
  My knuckles began to smoke again.
  
  The heat rose right through my gloves, treating the leather on my hands as imaginary.
  
  "Let the lightning beget fire and light," I intoned, the words familiar by now. "And then let the light inspire discovery for the new day…"
  
  "No!" the shadowy smoke shouted. "No! Not possible! Not a second time!"
  
  The weapon grip was back in my right hand. I continued the chant.
  
  "Let the light ignite a call to action in the soul refreshed from rest in the night…"
  
  "You should have lost half of your lifespan the very first time you incanted the forgotten art!" the shadowy voice snapped. "A second time is never anything but suicide! All the records say so!"
  
  "If darkness exists to shelter and refresh, light exists to enlighten and invigorate," I spoke calmly, ignoring the Usurper's panic. Current crackled around my palms.
  
  "Ugly, stupid boy! With your ugly, stupid, tricks! You insult me! You insult everything!"
  
  "So let the light show new life the way forward!" I roared out. My palms burst into silver fire, and something melted off of my knuckles again, passing right through my gloves and dripping onto the floor. The red curtain behind me tore as a spinning disk of sharp metal and stout wood whistled next to me and began circling around me, still spinning as it did so.
  
  "Do it, pretender king!" the Usurper shouted back. "Do it so that you can drown in borrowed power and die for good!"
  
  "By our command," I called out, as silver lightning channeled between my two blazing fists. My free hand opened, and the axe flew handle-first into my palm. "Let the light turn the dark into a new day, one better and brighter than the last!"
  
  "NO!" the smoggy form shouted desperately. "INVICTUS IS NOT REAL! HE WILL KILL YOU! HE WILL—"
  
  The blazing bolt coalesced around the one-handed axe, and I hurled the weapon straight into the Usurper's smoky projection. The air behind the thundering weapon seemed to bellow behind it.
  
  The axe slammed into the Usurper with a loud boom. A scream that reminded me of the time I had burned Cavus sounded out among the cavern as the black fog caught fire. The thing burned apart in a flash, but before it finished I saw silvery bolts arc from it and into the claw marks on each of the walls. Those burned away as well, leaving unblemished wood in their wake.
  
  I collapsed to my knees, panting, spent, but otherwise fine.
  
  "Wes?" Val asked, hesitantly. She hadn't been able to contribute any further than her own chant, but she still hadn't left my side.
  
  "I'm okay," I said. "Just need to catch my breath."
  
  "Um," she said hesitantly. "What was that about your lifespan halving? And I think I saw your knuckles melt off?"
  
  "I have no idea what he was talking about," I admitted. "I just heard the same quiet voice you heard, and it taught me how to do that technique. It only works at certain times though."
  
  "Like when you're in a boss fight, or something?" Val offered. "One you can't win on your own?"
  
  "Not even that." I shook my head, remembering Raw-Maw. "I don't have it all figured out. But it's never done more than tire me out and give me a brief, painful sensation. My knuckles don't actually melt off." I took off one of my gloves to show her. "And I've done that attack at least four times by now. I don't know where he got his info from, but I probably should have already died by now if my lifespan had been halved that many times."
  
  "Oh," she said quietly. "So… you're okay?"
  
  "As far as I can tell," I said with a smile, putting my glove back on. "Thanks for the save, by the way."
  
  "Oh, yeah," she said, shy and confused. "I have no idea what was going on back there. Who is that voice?"
  
  "I don't know," I admitted. "But I think Dad knew him."
  
  "Really?" Val said, her eyes blinking and flashing with something I couldn't make out. But through the mindlink I could feel her struggle through raw memories. "How do you know?"
  
  "I see him, in my dreams sometimes," I said awkwardly, realizing how stupid that sounded. "He talks with him, and he tells me I can trust him."
  
  "Oh," Val said, surprising me with her acceptance. "Okay. Um…" She hesitated briefly. "I'm glad you get to see him again."
  
  "Thanks," I smiled. "Me too."
  
  I turned back to the pool of woad sap.
  
  "We need to figure out what to do next," I decided. "Unless Avalon suddenly informs us that we've completed the Rite."
  
  "Confirming that the Rite of Territory has been successfully completed by Challenger Lord Wes Malcolm and his retinue," Avalon suddenly intoned. I saw mist stream in through the now-clear opening leading outside of the tree.
  
  "Did you just jinx yourself on purpose?" Val asked, annoyed. I shrugged.
  
  "Around here, it happens so often that it's better to trigger it on purpose, when you're ready for it."
  
  <You guys are alive, right?> Eadric sent to my mind. <We can tell through the mindlink, but Alum's people are still worried.>
  
  <Right,> I sent back, then shouted out, "We're okay! Just another fight with the downstairs neighbor!"
  
  I heard confused muttering, and disparaging remarks about my sense of humor.
  
  <What about you guys?> I sent back. <It looked like you got some action as well.>
  
  <Damned tendril things kept us from getting to you,> the dwarf muttered. <Didn't really hurt us, but we weren't able to cut or blast through them. Glad you're okay, though. Any news about Breena and your new babies?>
  
  <They're not my—nevermind,> I answered. <They haven't come out of the pool yet.>
  
  <Alright,> the dwarf grunted. <You might want to get out here, though. Another one of your pain-in-the-ass miracles is happening.>
  
  I stepped outside to see what he was complaining about. I felt sunlight stream into my face as soon as I did so. I looked up to see patches opening all over the once-black ceiling. Now I could see that the covering over all our heads had been nothing but massive branches, limbs, and leaves. I could see that the Keepers' venom had been banished from all of the trees and Gaelguard by now, and I saw the newly restored Woadfather trees sway their limbs as they went to work clearing away the giant Monarch's dead limbs, letting the pieces crumble to a much smaller size before they reached the rocky floor. Their roots were also shifting, pushing up large cobblestones to reveal rich, black soil underneath.
  
  The underground cave was transforming into an aboveground forest, right before our very eyes.
  
  I cocked my head in confusion. I distinctly remembered descending into a tunnel to begin this Rite. At no point did the ground ever slope back up. In fact, I never even stubbed my toe on a loose rock.
  
  "Am I the only one who realizes this should be impossible?" Karim asked with annoyed calm. The elf and dwarf, two people coming from cultures very familiar with forests and caves (respectively), shook their heads.
  
  "No," the bright-haired elf said. "This isn't supposed to be a thing that happens. Which makes it a noteworthy event," he added with a pained sigh.
  
  "Gonna be a real bitch to try and figure out how to record it, too," Eadric grumbled.
  
  "Witnessed in script…" Karim began reluctantly.
  
  "Witnessed in song," Weylin sighed unwillingly.
  
  "And witnessed in fucking stone," Eadric groaned. "Somehow. I'll have to figure it out."
  
  "Do you think you can get away with just carving a statue of a tree growing from a rock?" Weylin muttered, still looking up.
  
  "I sure as hell hope so," the dwarf replied. "At least we all know who to bill for the materials, though," he added darkly.
  
  "Agreed," the other Testifiers said at once. All of them looked over to give me a look of smoldering discontent.
  
  "Guys, I swear to God and the pasta monster," I began to protest. "I had no idea this would happen. I don't ask for stuff like this to keep happening any more than you do."
  
  "Then work on your nonverbal cues," the dwarf replied. "Because someone else is getting the wrong message from you."
  
  I decided they were all impossible and gave up talking to them.
  
  "Lord Wes Malcolm addresses Avalon and the Woadfathers," I called out. "We request advice on assisting the birth of the next Woadfather."
  
  "Answering the Lord of Avalon." Mists suddenly rose out the rocky soil. "The Rite of Territory has been completed. Avalon is adjusting the shape of its terrain to better accommodate the Ritual: In Case of Trouble. The Monarch's body and seed will both be taken into account."
  
  "What?" I asked, confused. "I thought the Shelter was already activated?"
  
  "Confirming that the Shelter was successfully activated," Avalon replied. "Upgrading capabilities to allow protocol to better carry out full function: survive, and then thwart, current tribulations. To that end the Shelter serves to protect, repair, and then empower inhabitants to overcome current threats. Avalon will now modify newly available terrain to accommodate overall goal. Please stand by."
  
  "Um, okay," I said, wondering what weird thing was about to happen now, and just how much I would get blamed for it. "Everybody brace yourself. The uh, ground, is about to move."
  
  My comment was greeting with over a dozen people blinking and asking "what?" before the stone and soil under our feet began to shift. I saw the roots and branches of the Woadfathers all twist to reach each other, linking together until the trees themselves formed one giant wooden web. The mist all around us thickened, to the point where I couldn't even see my hand if I held it in front of my face. Rumbling sounded all around me, but when the mist vanished I found we were all still in front of the massive Monarch.
  
  Everything else, though, had moved.
  
  The other Woadfathers were all much farther away, making the clearing around the giant tree to be quintuple the size it previously was. The other difference was that my entire settlement was now inside the clearing.
  
  "Translocation," Karim breathed in wonder, too overwhelmed to even complain. "And on a scale this immense. Incredible."
  
  My manor was only a few dozen yards away, looking horribly dwarfed by the size of the immense tree a long stone throw away. The thatch and straw huts looked like tiny yellow pill bugs in comparison. I began to wonder if we should just scrap everything and build a tree fort, or tree citadel, out of our massive new neighbor. But then the giant groaned, and I was reminded that it was at the end of its life.
  
  <Avalon,> I asked with my mind. <Is that thing going to fall on my village?>
  
  <Negative,> the planetary intelligence sent back. <The Woadfather Monarch plant has adapted to ending its life cycle in a way that will not damage the environment it once oversaw. The tree will use its roots to determine the least inhabited direction, and break itself so that it may collapse towards that direction. Caution is still advised. Do not move to be directly under the location it chooses to fall.>
  
  <Thanks,> I replied dryly. <Wasn't planning on it.>
  
  The Gaelguard finally broke their circle and vigil as one of the tree's roots pulled upward, forming a large spike. Other roots unearthed themselves in that direction as well, making a series of short pillars and crude arrows, as if it were trying to both indicate the direction it would collapse as well as help brace the environment for when the trunk finally fell. The branches and leaves had been long gone, stripped earlier by the smaller Woadfathers as they collapsed.
  
  I had Avalon broadcast one final, unnecessary order to avoid standing near the area that the giant plant would collapse at, and then we all moved to the opposite side to watch a forgotten wonder pass from this world. I did my best to adopt a respectful demeanor, but I couldn't help glancing at the pool where Breena was supposed to be. I really hoped nothing would go wrong with all of this.
  
  Slowly, the entire tree began to crack and shift on its side, falling towards the direction of the roots lined up to brace it. It somehow tore right at the base, leaving the woad pool and treasure chamber thankfully untouched. I expected the massive structure to fall with an earth-shattering roar, but as I watched the giant tree simply crumbled into a cloud of dust, save for a few medium-sized chunks that landed with dull booms.
  
  The dust itself began floating upward, merging into the lingering mist.
  
  <Absorbing new material,> Avalon sent me. <Incorporating new resources into Protocol In Case of Trouble.> Stand by for further transformation.
  
  "Sure, whatever," I said numbly, stepping toward the pool still containing my bonded friend. But when I reached it, the pool was empty. Just an empty hole of dirt with wood lining.
  
  <Avalon,> I sent urgently, <where is Breena? Locate her right now.>
  
  I reached for her through the mindlink, and felt nothing.
  
  <Stand by,> Avalon messaged me. <Seed restoration was successful. Assigning optimal location for newly born Monarch. Incorporating Monarch into Shelter improvements.>
  
  That was cool. Probably. I just wanted to make sure my friend was okay.
  
  The mist finished merging with the Monarch's dust and condensed into a cloud. It rushed over my head, heading straight for the wooden manor. It spread out along the walls and lawn, shimmering as it did so. When the glowing dust faded away, I could see that the timber used for the large house had somehow been replaced by another kind of wood.
  
  But I didn't care about that at all, because a plant suddenly poked out the middle of my backyard.
  
  I rushed over to it. It was clearly some kind of sapling, rising to about half my height. At its very top though, was a pink bulb the size of both my fists. The stem of the bulb bent to face me, and it opened up to reveal a kaleidoscope of colors—pink, red, orange, and white. A tiny woman suddenly fell into my arms, curled into the fetal position. I caught her, then sucked in a gasp as I looked at her.
  
  Her hair was still pink, but now it was longer and curlier, and dotted with tiny flowers of red, white, and orange. Her torso and waist were covered with larger petals of the same three colors, and her normally pale skin practically glowed with health, giving her a golden tan that strangely did not reach her still-ivory face. As she sank into my chest and began to stretch out her legs, I realized that she had once again grown in size, to where she was over four feet tall. Close to Val's size, in fact.
  
  <Only more womanly,> Teeth said unhelpfully in my mind. <A lot more womanly. Can we talk about that?>
  
  <No,> I answered firmly, clamping down just as hard on all my 'don't touch small women' triggers.
  
  "Wes?" Breena said as she opened her eyes. Those had changed to a much darker pupil, with an iris that slowly transitioned from green to blue the closer it got to the pupil.
  
  "Yeah, Breena, I'm here," I answered, snapping my gaze away from her exotically beautiful orbs.
  
  "Hi," she said with a giggle, seemingly in a bit of a daze herself.
  
  "Um, are you okay?" I asked, wondering if I should check her temperature or something. Then I realized that I couldn't, because I was holding her, and then I wondered if I should let her go, and then I realized I was making myself awkward and that I needed to get a grip.
  
  "Yes, Wes, I'm fine," Breena said, grinning wide. "Better than ever, in fact."
  
  It hit me right then, as her smile washed over me. But it wasn't just her smile.
  
  It was the same smile Stell had made. That cheerful one, when she got really excited about something.
  
  That smile always slew me. So much that I didn't even realize until now.
  
  "You look different," I said dumbly. But I couldn't help it. I just kept staring at the exotic woman in my arms like a brain-dead idiot.
  
  "Do you like it?" she asked, reaching up and grabbing one of her curls.
  
  "Yeah," I said, a little more enthusiastically than I meant to. I heard someone groan behind me, and finally realized I was still outside, in a public setting. "I mean um… sorry. I should probably set you down now."
  
  "Oh." She blinked, looking around herself. "Right. Good call."
  
  I set her down as casually as possible, trying to ignore the soft snickering from some asshole in the back. <Probably Weylin,> I decided. <Whatever.>
  
  Breena took a careful step on the ground, trying out her new weight.
  
  "Huh, well that doesn't feel too different," she decided, pressing down on the soft grass. "Still, never been this big or heavy before. So it still counts as a new thing. Plus," she added with a fierce new exuberance, "I am finally tall now! People are no longer giants! Ha! See, Wes, I don't have to look up to yo—" She whipped her head around and realized she was staring right at my chest. "Spit," she fairy-swore. "Spit and sherbert. Nothing changed at all."
  
  "What are you talking about?" I demanded. "You're over four times the size you were when I first met you!"
  
  "Yes, but that only brings me eye level with your kid sister," Breena harrumphed, crossing her arms. "And now it's harder to fly."
  
  I finally noticed that her wings were gone. But before I could freak out about it, she nodded and snapped her fingers.
  
  "Yup. Gonna go ahead and wait until I'm a little taller. Sorry, Wes."
  
  "Sorry?" I asked, confused. "Why are you…"
  
  My voice trailed off as she leaped into the air and shrank down to about two feet in size. Then she stretched her torso out as light suddenly exploded out from behind her back.
  
  Her gossamer wings had expanded in size, almost twice as wide as they were before. Mixed in with their pink color were red, orange, and white lights that danced inside the film. Tiny beams flashed out from her wings, and I was struck with a sight that reminded me of the sun peeking over the horizon.
  
  "Wow," I breathed. "Those are amazing."
  
  "Thanks," she said with another dazzling smile. "They're my new race's namesake. I'm a Dawn Fairy now. Or a Sunrise Sprite. Depends on which legends you read."
  
  "Legends?" I asked, tilting my head.
  
  "They've mostly vanished," she answered. "The few I know of are either Icons now or the direct servants to the Icon Titania." She smiled at me, and began zipping around experimentally. "I'm so much faster now. It's so much easier to think, and do magic. My natural Sprite magic has grown stronger, and I think I may be close to learning some new Ideals again." She did a backflip in midair, still giggling. "Thank you, Wes. This might be my favorite miracle so far."
  
  The Testifiers all groaned as they realized they had yet another historical event to recreate with their respective arts. <Serves them right,> I thought smugly.
  
  The little sprite zipped around for a few moments longer, giggling in joy.
  
  "There," she came to a stop and announced. "Got it all out of my system now. Back to thinkin' tactical." She dimmed her glow experimentally, nodding in satisfaction as her wings shrunk and she resembled her original glow. "Good, good. Stealth mode is still a go. Gotta make a few other changes though," my fairy companion said, glancing up at her hair. "Yeah, this is way too formal for field work. I'd better save the look for other stuff."
  
  "Do you have to?" I blurted out.
  
  <Yeah, does she have to?>
  
  "Aww, you really do like it." She beamed at me. "Thanks for being a sweetheart." She tugged at the curly locks dangling in front of her face. "This can really get in a girl's way during aerial combat though. So I'm going to have to save the look for special events." She performed gestures for an Air spell, and a tiny spinning disk appeared over her finger. The disk buzzed as she swept it through her long locks, trimming her hair back to her original length. Then she snapped the fingers on her other hand to create a Lightning spell. Another moment later and she had zapped her hair into resembling her old spiky pixie cut. Somehow the new flowers all remained undisturbed. "Alright, back to Breena 1.0. Now we should talk about all the other stuff."
  
  "Right," I said suddenly. "The kids."
  
  Everyone gave me an odd look.
  
  "I mean the Keeper eggs," I clarified. "Did they make it, too?"
  
  "Right, those." Breena snapped her fingers. "They're fine. They're in a small hole in the tree. See?"
  
  She pointed to a tiny opening on the other side of the sapling, one webbed off with red silk.
  
  "They haven't hatched yet, but Avalon and the Monarch were able to do this for them. Thanks to the energy of the tree, this is probably the most ideal place for them to incubate."
  
  "Right, the tree," I said, shaking my head as I struggled to keep track of all the changes that just happened. "The Monarch… he's gone now, right?"
  
  Part of me felt bad for not paying more attention to his death. But the sapling suddenly rustled in front of me.
  
  "Mostly," the noise of the leaves created a word. "Much of myself has passed on. I will now grow into something new. Something greater." The leaves kept rustling. "You have given me more potential, Lord Earthborn. I thank you."
  
  "You're welcome," I answered. "But I have no idea what I just did."
  
  "I am Woadfather no longer," the tree answered. "I am a Kingtree."
  
  "A what?"
  
  "By binding with your fairy familiar and your blood, I have become linked to your authority. As it grows, I will grow. And as I grow, your health, spirit, and kingdom will flourish in turn. This power will be passed on to all of your bloodline as well, including those still growing within my boughs. Including all you have claimed as kin."
  
  Val started at that, looking at herself and flexing her fingers.
  
  "He's right," she whispered. "I feel it. I feel different. Better, even."
  
  Virtus and the Testifiers all made startled nods as well, apparently examining their own Statuses. I got the impression their growth was not as pronounced, but since they were technically my subjects (I think) they would all get some benefit from the Kingtree as well.
  
  "What about you, Wes?" Val asked me. "Do you feel any different?"
  
  I did, actually.
  
  Heavier.
  
  Overwhelmed.
  
  Defeated.
  
  But those feelings were ridiculous. I wrestled with them, tried to force them back out of my mind, but they pounded back at my mind.
  
  <Failure,> something said to me. <You lost part of something great. You murdered a mother and stole her children. You have lost far more than you have gained. And it is all your fault.>
  
  Something rumbled again.
  
  <You have failed, Earthborn,> the voices said.
  
  <Your skies are too low.>
  
  <Your heavens, too heavy.>
  
  <Your angered gods, far too great.>
  
  My vision went black.