Page 139 of A Sunwoven Ascent

Whatever this was between them—

He was hers.

And tonight, he would show her exactly what that meant.

***

Cillian did not wait for the last guests to depart.

The manor still hummed behind him, music and laughter spilling through the halls, glass clinking beneath the swell of strings. He slipped away without a word and stepped into the night. Cool air met him at once, carrying the faint scent of soil and distant leaves. With each step, the noise of the ballroom faded until it was nothing more than memory. He found his carriage driver and asked to be taken to Velenshire, then continued on foot along the now-familiar path until the grove revealed itself.

It rose from the dark as though alive, its edges softened by shadow, its center lit with a faint golden glow that pulsed through the roots of the great tree. The Solwyn Tree towered above, its branches stretching wide, leaves catching what little moonlight slipped through the canopy.

And beneath it, she waited.

Alia turned as he approached, her form outlined in that same soft light, her hair catching it in pale strands that shimmered as she moved.

“You came,” she said.

Cillian stepped closer, his boots quiet against the ground. “I received your letter.”

Her expression eased. “I was not certain you would leave the ball.”

“Neither was I,” he admitted. “But I convinced them the evening had grown… exhausting.”

His gaze lifted to the branches above. The air felt different here, heavier, as though something unseen pressed gently against him—his skin, his chest, his thoughts.

“I can feel it more tonight,” he said. “It is stronger.”

Alia nodded. “She remembers you.”

Cillian moved closer to the tree, his hand hovering near the roots, though he did not yet touch them.

“Show me again,” he said.

Alia stepped beside him. “Do not force it. Let her find you. She will give you what you need. Open your hands and allow it to settle.”

Cillian closed his eyes and breathed, focusing on the presence he had come to know as the goddess of light.

Then—

She answered.

A new song filled him, carrying a calm so deep it felt like sleep.

His chest warmed as she granted him more light. And through the singing, he heard a whisper.

“Use it for good, only good. For you are my kin, and we are pure. But you, Cillian, are destined for two paths.”

He scrunched his brow in confusion, but didn’t interrupt. What did that mean?

“Light cleanses and heals, but other magic, your other magic, is to protect.”

The heat of the light rose within him. It moved through him slowly this time, threading along his arms, settling into his breath, his heartbeat. Not the overwhelming surge he had once known, but something quieter. Something he could almost hold.

He exhaled.

“That’s it,” Alia said softly. “Let it rise—she will give you what you can carry.”