Page 110 of A Sunwoven Ascent

Bring the alpha to the source. The tree.

Alaric went still, his fingers tightening around the edge of the table.

That was the warning. But why?

Why had it mattered so much?

“I… would very much like to accompany you,” he said suddenly, the words escaping before he had fully considered them.

Alia’s expression brightened at once. “Of course, Mr. Stonebridge. I would be glad for your company.”

“Thank you,” he said, rising from his seat. “I shall forgo breakfast and make myself ready. I will meet you in the foyer?”

“Yes,” she replied, already returning to her task, though now with a calmer steadiness.

***

Alia guided them beyond the quiet road to Shaw Manor, through the overgrowth, across moss-covered stones inlaid with ancient mosaics, and beneath a crumbling archway. Around the exposed roots stood weathered stone shrines, each marked with faded sunbursts and celestial symbols, their presence hinting at how deeply the tree reached into the land. Its trunk was so vast that everyone had to tilt their heads back to see the canopy, its branches spreading above them in a great sheltering crown.

This was the tree Cillian had seen again and again in his mind. The same tree he had studied in old history books while trying to understand what was happening to him. But the tree in his visions had looked dead, and the illustrations had shown it full of life. This tree before them seemed somewhere between the two. Reborn, perhaps. Not fully bloomed, but no longer lifeless.

Cillian understood why Alia loved coming to the grove. It was beautiful and peaceful, with grass and flowers gathered around the roots. Some blossoms had begun to bow beneath the cooler autumn air, but they were still alive.

Encircled by old stone, overgrown vines, and tangled greenery, the tree rose like the queen of the grove. The space around it felt like a hidden sanctuary, a place made for rituals and magic, sheltered from the world by bramble and wild growth. Something inside Cillian warmed in its presence. His heart, perhaps. Or his blood. He could not tell. He only knew that the closer he came to the roots and towering trunk, the more that warmth spread beneath his skin.

And Alia looked breathtaking beside it. As she neared the tree, her skin seemed to brighten, as though the grove itself had recognized her. The pale blonde strands of her hair caught the light, shining richer and healthier than before, and a soft radiance settled over her features. She knelt near the base and dipped her head as if greeting the tree. Bowing to its power. Respecting its purity.

Cillian knelt beside her without thinking and bowed his head in silence. When they both lifted their faces, his eyes met her hazel ones, and a strange calm settled through him. She felt like home. Like safety.

“Cillian?”

Evelyne interrupted the silence and Cillian turned to face the three of them, Evelyne, Kaldrek, and Alaric, standing in disbelief, their eyes wide.

“What? What is it?” he asked nervously.

“Your skin is… It’s glowing,” Alaric murmured. “Both of you.”

Cillian’s attention shifted to Alia, and he realized the glow of her skin was not merely warmth or color from the grove.

It was light. The same kind of light that lived within him.

He stumbled back in surprise.

“Whoa.” Cillian’s hands hit the ground behind him as he steadied himself. “You can heal? I mean, you have light. You—” The words tangled before he could make sense of them.

“Yes, Cillian. I too can summon light and this tree is our mother source. Can you hear her sing to you?” Alia asked calmly.

Kaldrek stepped closer to the tree and tipped his head back in silence, then lowered his gaze to them, to the roots, as if trying to make sense of the scene before him.

“You both look so… beautiful,” Evelyne breathed as she stared at Cillian.

His eyes dropped to his palms, now glowing even brighter where his hands touched the ground and the roots pushed through the dirt and grass. When his gaze returned to Alia, she was smiling brightly.

“Listen to her. She’s singing your name.”

Cillian hesitated. This was all so otherworldly.

“Go on,” Alia urged.