The world returned to Ren not in a rush, but as a gentle tide. The first thing he was aware of was the scent—a rich, loamy perfume of ancient earth, damp moss, and the clean, sharp fragrance of redwood. The second was a profound sense of safety, a feeling so absolute it was like being back in the cradle of the Whispering Glade.
He opened his eyes. He was lying on a bed of impossibly soft, thick moss at the base of a tree so colossal its trunk was a curving wall of reddish-brown bark that disappeared into the canopy far above. Shafts of moonlight, filtered through a thousand layers of leaves, dappled the forest floor in shifting patterns of silver. Shiro was curled on his chest, his small body rising and falling with Ren's own steady breath, no longer limp but merely sleeping deeply.
A low, rumbling sound, like the shifting of deep earth, drew his attention. A few feet away sat Olthann. The great bear was immense, a mountain of fur and quiet power, but he was no longer the raging beast of the clearing. He was simply resting, his great head on his paws, his deep, intelligent eyes watching Ren. The violent purple haze was almost entirely gone from his fur, leaving only faint, shadowy traces that seemed to be fading with every passing moment he spent in the heart of his own healthy domain.
Ren pushed himself into a sitting position, his body protesting with a chorus of aches.
"You are safe here, Little Serpent," Olthann's voice filled his mind. It was a deep, resonant voice, different from the Eldest's oceanic tones; this voice was like the groan of ancient trees and the rumble of stone. "This tree is the heart of the Weald. No blight can take root in its shadow."
"I… we…" Ren began, his own voice hoarse.
"You have my gratitude," the great bear interrupted, his voice resonating with sincerity. "You shattered the Heart and, with your call, you gave my spirit an anchor to find its way back from the madness. I have not forgotten. The Guardian of the Weald is in your debt."
"I am also a Guardian," Ren said, finding his strength. "It was my duty. The Eldest Serpent of the First Scale sent me."
At the mention of the Eldest, a look of profound respect entered Olthann's eyes. "The Great Serpent still lives? The ages have been long. It is good to know that the heart of the mountains still beats." He paused, his gaze turning inward. "I felt the Hollow's purpose as they worked on me. They do not seek to rule. They seek to silence. They called the blight the 'Great Unraveling.' They believe life itself is a flaw to be erased."
This confirmed what the Eldest had told him, but hearing it from someone who had felt that philosophy firsthand sent a chill down Ren's spine.
Olthann's gaze then settled on Ren's leg. "I can feel the splinter of their malice in you. It is a cold and stubborn poison."
"I have contained it," Ren said. "But it remains."
"As a tree contains a rot in its heartwood," the bear agreed. "It walls it off, but the memory of the sickness remains. You are weary. Your spirit is frayed from holding it back." Olthann rose slowly to his feet. "The debt must be paid. Come."
The great bear led him a short distance away to a small, hollowed-out basin where water trickled from the roots of the great redwood itself. The water gathered in a pool that glowed with a soft, vibrant green light.
"The heartwood weeps only for those the forest accepts," Olthann explained. "Rest here. Let the life of the Weald mend what it can."
Ren eased himself into the small pool. The water was cool and felt alive. As he submerged his injured leg, the glowing green water seemed to embrace it. He felt a deep, vital warmth spread from the pool into his body, a stark contrast to the blight's chilling touch. It was not the sharp, focused purity of the glade's magic, but a slow, persistent, and deeply nourishing life force. The ache in his muscles began to fade, and the ever-present cold thrum from his scar subsided into a deep, dreamless quiet.
He lay there for a long time, the green light soothing his body while the immense, protective presence of the great bear stood guard. The chaos and terror of the battle faded, replaced by a profound sense of peace and the quiet strength of the ancient forest. The immediate danger was past. An enemy had been thwarted, a powerful spirit had been saved, and a new, formidable alliance had been forged in the crucible of fire and shadow. Here, in the heart of the living Weald, the young Guardian and the ancient one rested, gathering their strength for the war that they both knew was far from over.