The old man chuckled, his beard bouncing in sync. "I prefer to consider myself a wizard these days. Being a warlock comes with too much bloodshed, and I left that life behind in exchange for my research. Now then, I believe I've shown you enough for you to at least share your name?"
"Yes, I- I suppose so. It's Cyrus," Cyrus said, furrowing his brow. "If you study magic, then do you perhaps know anything about runes?"
"I know a little," Myrel said, frowning. "Why do you ask?"
Cyrus retrieved the amulet from around his neck, and held it out. The sunlight bounced off the tree, and the bronze shone brightly. Myrel leaned forward, the grey mist in his eyes swirling wildly.
"What do you have there?"
"I- I don't know. About a week ago, I woke up on the shores of Withro, a village a few days to the east of here," Cyrus said. He lowered the amulet. "I lost all my memories, besides my name, and this pendant is all that's left of my possessions."
"Is it? How odd. For a trinket so small, it possesses quite the amount of aether." Myrel reached out his hand, then hesitated. "May I see it?"
Cyrus handed him the amulet. Myrel held it close to his face, running his fingers along the tree before flipping it over. His eyes widened as he fixated on the root-like words, and he brushed his thumb over the rough edges.
"Is this why you asked me about runes? To be honest, I've never seen anything like these before," Myrel said, tilting the pendant back and forth. "Do you know what they say?"
"I do. It speaks of a place called the Arbor Sanctum," Cyrus said. He scooted forward. "The man who cared for me claimed to have never heard of such a place. Have you?"
Myrel shook his head. "I'm afraid not. This arbor sanctum, whatever it is, has never been mentioned in any of my records."
"I see," Cyrus said. Myrel handed back the amulet, and Cyrus slipped it beneath his tunic. "So you can't help me, then?"
"I didn't say that, now did I?" Myrel asked. "Was there anything else? Anything that may help me learn more?"
Cyrus stared at the ground, furrowing his brow. "There is… something. Out there, when I lost control of my… magic, I heard a whisper. A woman's voice, which sounded like the rustling leaves of a forest, telling me to find the Altier."
"A woman's voice asked you to find the Altier, you say? The name sounds familiar, though I'll need to go through my books to find out why," Myrel said. He frowned. "Was that the first time you used magic, that you can remember, at least?"
"There was another time, when I felt a strange prickle run across my skin. It was a day or so ago, while I was traveling through the forest." Cyrus shifted in his seat. "I can't say for certain, but it felt similar to what happened in the marketplace. Almost like I could feel the plants around me."
"Your magic is different from what I know. Truthfully, magic that deals with living things, such as plants and animals, is incredibly difficult. Yet you've managed to grow an entire forest, without it affecting your mind," Myrel said, rising from his seat. "You've given me quite a lot to think about, and I hope I can gather some information from my books. While I'm doing that, why don't you rest, or go downstairs and find something to eat. Sylven, my apprentice, should be back soon, with news of the kingdom. We can talk more then."
Myrel paused, and studied Cyrus. "However, if you still plan on leaving, I'd ask that you wait until tonight, when the sun sets. You'll have a better chance of getting out if the knights can't see you."
"I'll- I'll stay, for now. It's not like I have the coin left to pay for a room anywhere else anyway," Cyrus said. He glanced out the window, towards the pine tree towering over the kingdom. "I also have quite a bit to think about."
"I understand. Please, take your time. I'll be at the desk, if you need anything." Myrel turned and scanned the books. He grabbed a few decorated with trees and ferns, then went and sat down at the desk beneath the window.
As the wizard flipped open the first book, Cyrus hesitantly returned to the room, and gazed out the window. The trees swayed in the distance, as if mocking him. His shoulders shook as he recalled the people running away, screaming and crying.
Cyrus clenched his fists, anger swirling through his chest. Letting out a deep sigh, he made his way back to the cot, and laid down, staring blankly up at the wooden rafters. Tears streamed down his face, hot and wet. 'What do I do now?'
…
The next several hours dragged by as Cyrus stared outside, watching the kingdom. The forest of pines swayed as a gust swept through the city, stirring dust from the cracks and collapsed buildings. A group of knights picked their way through the debris, their armor glinting beneath the setting sun.
Cyrus stiffened as the door downstairs opened, and clicked shut, followed by a beam thumping into place. Muffled footsteps pattered across the floor as Myrel rose and approached the railing.
"Sylven. You took a bit longer than I expected. How was it out there?"
A younger voice echoed up the stairs, male, with a somber tone. "Better than I feared, though it'll take some time to rebuild. So far, there have only been three reported dead, however the number of injured keeps rising. I helped where I could. The guards barred me from going too deep."
Bile rose in Cyrus's throat as he gripped the wool blanket so hard his knuckles turned white. Three dead, more injured. His thoughts jumped back to the boy, covered in roots, and his body went rigid as the young man spoke again.
"Everyone in the city is looking for the warlock who attacked the kingdom. So far, it doesn't seem like anyone got a decent view of him, but there's a poster with his general description. How is he, anyway?"