Sleep in the Heartwood was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. The glowing moss beneath me felt like a living mattress, impossibly soft and warm, humming with a gentle, resonant energy that seeped into my bones. The air, thick with the scent of ancient pine and luminous blossoms, felt clean, pure, like breathing liquid light. There were no sirens, no traffic, no Mittens. Just the soft, ethereal hum of Elara, a lullaby woven from pure essence. I slept deeper than I had in years, a sleep so profound it felt like I was dissolving into the very fabric of the world.
When I woke, the light was still diffused, timeless, but I felt… different. Not just rested, but somehow fuller. The dull ache of exhaustion that had plagued me since my awakening was gone, replaced by a vibrant, almost buzzing energy. My tattoo, the swirling echo pattern on my forearm, pulsed with a soft, steady light, no longer frantic. My eyes, I noticed when I caught my reflection in a dewdrop on a glowing leaf, were a calm, deep violet, no longer shifting wildly.
Violet was already awake, sitting cross-legged nearby, her sapphire eyes closed, a faint, shimmering aura of blue light surrounding her. She looked utterly serene, like a statue carved from moonlight. She opened her eyes as I stirred, a gentle smile touching her lips.
"Good morning, Cassandra. You slept well. The Heartwood's pure essence is restorative."
"Restorative is an understatement," I mumbled, stretching, feeling my muscles hum with newfound energy. "I feel like I could run a marathon and then fight a dragon. Or at least, not accidentally explode a lamp."
Violet chuckled softly. "A promising start. We have much to do. Your power is immense, but it is a wild river. We must teach it to flow within its banks."
"So, no more accidental reality-bending for breakfast?" I asked, pushing myself up. "Because I'm still not entirely sure how I turned a mental attack into… whatever that was. Psychic Allure, you called it?"
"Indeed," Violet confirmed. "A subtle, yet incredibly potent form of the Voice. It influences emotions, desires, perceptions. You twisted their attempt to instill fear into a wave of disorientation and even… amusement. It was quite remarkable."
"Remarkable and terrifying," I corrected. "I mean, what if I accidentally make someone fall madly in love with a toaster? Or convince a squirrel it's a god?"
Violet's smile widened. "A valid concern. Which is why we begin with grounding. The Voice, at its core, is about intention. Clear intention, clear manifestation. Your emotions are the fuel, yes, but your mind must be the rudder."