CHAPTER 41: DROP OF SUN
Suryel’s fingers tangled in her hair, nails catching and tugging harder than she meant to.
Her eyes were wide, unfocused, trembling as they darted from the towering trunk of the Star Bearing Tree behind her to the dark, mirrored surface of the black lake ahead.
Her breath came shallow.
Fast.
“Yael…” She whispered hoarsely, her voice cracking as her throat tightened.
Her gaze flicked helplessly across the empty shore, searching for any familiar shape that wasn’t there. “Anyone. I don’t know what to do.”
The words fell uselessly into the open air.
The Star Bearing Tree loomed behind her like a silent witness, its vast roots coiling and disappearing beneath the lake’s surface.
The black water reflected nothing properly, swallowing light and bending reflections until even the sky above looked uncertain.
Utter hopelessness pressed down on her chest, heavy and suffocating.
The world felt too large.
Too quiet.
Too final.
Her knees threatened to buckle.
Then she forced herself to inhale.
Deep.
Slow.
Her lungs burned as the air filled them, but she held it, counting heartbeats like she had learned to do long ago.
Then she exhaled.
And breathed again.
Her curled hand rose shakily to her face.
She pressed her palm against her cheek, then her mouth, grounding herself in the warmth of her own skin.
Her chest still felt tight, but beneath it, her heartbeat thudded stubbornly on.
Still here.
Still alive.
Still moving.
Her shoulders squared slightly as something old and familiar settled into place.
“I have no one to rely on but myself.” Suryel muttered under her breath, her voice steadier now, edged with something hard-earned. “But this is not the first.”
The realization did not crush her.
It steadied her.
She had survived that truth before.
She lifted her head.
Her eyes sparked, volatile and bright, a stubborn will igniting beneath the fear.
She clenched her jaw, a vow forming silently, fiercely.
I will not let him go down.
Her gaze dropped to the frayed rope still tied to her wrist.
She grabbed it and yanked, testing its length, pulling until it went taut and useless.
“No, this is too short.” She snapped, frustration flaring. “Its useless!”
She let it fall, the rope slapping limply against the stone.
Then she moved.
She scrambled up the root on all fours, palms scraping, knees slipping against damp bark as she climbed toward the trunk of the Star Bearing Tree.
Her breathing grew ragged with exertion, but she didn’t slow.
From the higher ground, she turned and scanned the lake.
Her eyes swept the shoreline, the roots, the scattered stones.
Searching.
Anything.
Something she could throw.
A branch.
A rock.
A miracle.
Her gaze flicked upward.
The Star Bearing Tree.
She froze.
Memory surged unbidden. The last time she had been alone here.
Yael gone. No supervision. Reckless.
When she had tried to hurl herself into the lake without thinking.
She remembered how the tree had moved.
How a branch had reached out and scooped her back from a deeper water’s edge like an admonishing hand.
Aware.
Alive.
She swallowed and looked up at the vast, glowing canopy.
“Hey?” She called tentatively, her voice echoing softly against the roots. “Hey tree!”
Nothing moved.
But she could feel it.
It was listening.
Her throat tightened.
“Please. Could you help me?”
She said, the word rough. “Help me. Or Helel will—”
Something struck her head. “Ow!”
A glowing fruit thumped against her forehead and dropped straight into her arms.
She staggered back a step, barely managing to catch it.
It was heavy.
Warm.
Buzzing faintly, static prickling against her palms.
She stared down at it, incredulous.
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“What am I supposed to do with this?!” She snapped. “I am trying to ask for your branch!”
Her anger flared hot and fast.
She stomped her foot against the root, the vibration traveling through her legs.
The silence that followed felt deliberate.
A refusal.
“You need to bend!” She shouted upward, voice breaking. “I know you can, help me pull Helel out! Like you did before to stop my cannonball, my dive!”
Her fists clenched around the glowing fruit.
“Please…” She whispered, desperation bleeding through. “Before he drowns. Come on, you stubborn tree!”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
She wished, fiercely, painfully, that she could reach through space like Helel did.
Like Yael always did.
That she could grab him herself and drag him to safety.
As if reacting to the thought, the star-fruit in her hands shimmered.
The buzzing deepened.
The light sharpened.
Then it solidified.
Still in her grip now was a spear.
Its shaft gleamed with soft gold, its tip radiant and precise.
A thin golden thread unspooled from it, winding itself around her left arm before tightening gently, anchoring without pain.
Suryel stared.
Her breath caught.
Her eyes widened in stunned silence.
She remembered Helel’s words about transmutation.
About will.
About rules.
Her gaze lifted slowly to the Star Bearing Tree.
Understanding bloomed.
It had reacted.
Responded.
This wasn’t borrowed power.
It was hers.
Infused with her will. Her fear. Her refusal.
The tree. The fruit. The lake. The roots.
This place.
It had answered her before.
Even when she had wandered it half-asleep in the Dream Realm.
This had always been her Domain.
She gasped, then looked up fully.
“Thank you!” She breathed. “This will do.”
Her grip tightened on the spear as she turned toward the lake. “Wait for me, Helel!”
The tree pulsed once, a warm, steady glow answering her call.
At the water’s edge, Suryel bounced on her feet, adrenaline flooding her veins.
She squinted at the surface, estimating where she had broken through earlier.
Please still be there.
She drew the spear back, left side twisting as she planted her foot forward.
Her body remembered the motion before her mind did.
“PLEASE REACH THAT SMUG, DROWNING IDIOT!” She shouted.
She hurled the spear.
It flew an arc before plunging through.
Below the black, mirrored surface—
Soot-like sand drifted lazily as a Shade brushed its cold fingers along Helel’s cheek.
It had returned.
Grinning.
Teeth bared.
The same one he had chased before with fireballs.
Do you remember saying I wasn’t dangerous?
It hissed directly into his mind, its form rippling as it took on Samael’s familiar shape.
Who’s not dangerous now, Helel?
It taunted.
You’re the one who isn’t getting out.
Its fingers pressed to his temple.
Memories surged.
A narrow corridor.
Cold stone.
A yellow flower painted red.
A braid slipping through small fingers.
A laugh cut short into a scream.
The vision shattered into something new.
Suryel’s voice above the water.
Crying.
Calling his name.
Clinging to the Star Bearing Tree’s submerged root.
Waiting.
Cold and alone.
The Shade grinned.
Helel snarled.
Rage ignited white-hot in his chest as he twisted violently, fighting the grip around him.
The Shade snickered and tightened its hold, forcing him to relive it.
Then—
Light.
A golden streak tore through the water like a falling sun.
The lake imploded.
Sound collapsed into nothing, a vacuum pulse that sucked everything inward before detonating outward with a thunderous roar.
Darkness recoiled as the light burned on.
The spear punched straight through the Shade’s center.
Its grin froze.
A vein of gold split it cleanly in two.
Samael’s borrowed smile crumbled into ash.
The remaining Shades shrieked, their soundless cries etched into their contorting forms.
They recoiled, trembling as if their very cores rejected the light.
They scattered.
Helel grabbed the spear.
It jolted in his grip, alive and responsive, as though it had been waiting for him.
Above the surface, the lake shimmered with calm, golden light.
Suryel’s arms shook violently as she clutched the glowing line, nails biting into her palm. Her eyes squeezed shut.
Her breath came fast and shallow.
But her mind was razor-focused.
She hadn’t aimed.
She had trusted.
“Please, Helel.” She whispered. “Just send me a sign.”
The line quivered.
Once.
Twice.
Deliberate.
Taut.
“I GOT HIM!” Suryel shouted, eyes flying open as she dug her heels into the earth and hauled backward.
Air rippled around her feet as she pulled.
The water exploded.
— SPLASH!
Black spray arced high.
Helel burst through the surface, coughing violently, dragging in air in ragged gulps.
He swam clumsily for shore, fingers scraping for purchase until he grabbed a root and held fast, the spear still clenched in his hand.
Suryel slid down the roots in a near-fall, yelling incoherently as she scrambled toward him. “HEY, YOU ASSHOLE!”
They stared at each other.
Then Helel laughed, weak and breathless.
“I am… pleasantly surprised.” He rasped, “You remembered how to wield a spear.”
His smile outshone the stars. “Are you okay?”
“AM I OKAY?!” She screamed, fists pounding into his arm. “Are you seriously asking that?!”
Her voice cracked. “You promised. I trusted you. I thought you—”
She collapsed to her knees and clung to him, sobbing as if she might lose him again the moment she let go.
Helel anchored himself and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her tight. The spear clattered to the ground.
“I said I’d get you out.”
He muttered sheepishly, patting her back. “And I did.”
She slapped his side.
He winced but didn’t let go. “Alright, I’m sorry.”
Around them, the lake stilled.
Helel draped his cloak over both of them, exhaustion finally winning.
Cold air clung to their soaked clothes.
But their bodies were warm.
They lay arm in arm at the shore, surrounded by half-submerged roots.
Helel hummed softly, staring at the sky.
Suryel’s face was tucked under his arm.
She no longer cried.
The spear dematerialized into a small orb of light at their side.
It sparked once, then shot upward, returning to the Star Bearing Tree.
It settled like a sun among the branches.
Helel nudged her cheek gently.
“Suryel?” He murmured.
She didn’t answer.
Author’s Note:
Awww. That made me feel like I just wanna cuddle then fight my pillow. LOL. ????
Author’s Note:
Awww. That made me feel like I just wanna cuddle then fight my pillow. LOL. ????
