Within the earliest edges of morning — when the sun had still not crested but had the very beginnings of color hinting the horizon — Valerlanta woke to a sound.

The fire was still popping faintly beside her, but she knew that was not what had woken her. It had been something else. Something in the cave with them.

Scratching and rustling sounded again from the back of the cave.

Valerlanta shot up to a sitting position, gasping as she jerked her leg and caused a flash of pain from her wound. It felt like the arrow was still in there, moving when she did.

“What is it?” Venic asked groggily.

She hesitated, waiting. When she didn’t answer, Venic sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stilled when the sound came again.

They exchanged a glance then Venic put up a hand, telling her to wait where she was. Not that she would be much help with her injured leg.

Venic grabbed his sword with a silence she did not know he could manage, and approached the back of the cave where a large pile of rubble lay.

Venic peaked over a particularly large boulder.

Valerlanta heard a “peep” warning sound, and all too suddenly she knew what it was.

“Run!” She screamed, but it was too late.

The nest of sprites burst from the rocks like a storm. At only a hands length in size, one alone was not particularly threatening, but they always attacked as a hive. They swarmed Venic; biting, pulling hair, and swept in from all sides.

He tried to bat them away, but they were everywhere.

A cloud of the nasty creatures poured from the rocks.

Valerlanta dove for their things, but her leg gave out. She fell hard, her shoulder smashing into the stone floor. The bag tumbled from her grasp, and out rolled the puzzle ball. It hit the cave stone floor and the light of the fire danced across its metallic surface.

‘Just my luck,’ Valerlanta thought as the sprites saw it, and their love for shiny objects drew them like moths to a flame.

“No!” Valerlanta screamed.

And they were upon her.

Pulling, scratching, and sinking in teeth.

A sprite bit her hand, drawing blood.

She called on magic.

The fire flared up and burst in all directions in a flash of light and heat. The startled sprites dropped the ball.

Valerlanta pounced.

Her fingers wrapped around it.

The ball felt her magic, and reacted by stabbing her with a needle.

The cave lit up in a horrible red glow as all the markings upon the ball lit up.

Pain flared in her temples so violent, it felt as if her brain was splitting in two.

As she felt herself falling, the cave twisted and folded in on itself.

The cave, Venic, and even herself, were all gone.

She was a woman, but not herself. This woman had soft petal pink skin, and eyes that saw the world in colors that were so vibrant, they almost seemed to glow.

When she moved, she did not feel just the air around her or the ground under her feet, but every single thread of mycelium, every root, and every blade of grass. The world was alive, and she could feel that life.

She was the dryad Queen Dallylyn.

The queen smiled sadly at the people in front of her, and some of those people sobbed heavily or yelled at her to reconsider.

Many were adults with slightly pointed ears that would gradually become less so over time. They were her children, her grandchildren, and even great grandchildren, and she had looked over them long enough.

It was time to fulfill her promise, even if it twisted her heart to do so.

Her eyes looked upwards to the rooftop of gears and the artificial sunlight she had helped design.

Everything was working as it should be.

It was time.

Dallylyn stepped into the opening in the tree, and turned towards the crowd, and said a last goodbye.

One of her grandsons tried to reach for her, but it was too late.

The bark closed around her.

There was darkness, yes, but also that tingling that came from merging with a tree.

If the tree felt a gust of wind or the warmth of the day, so would she.

Fear hammered her heart, but Dallylyn silenced it by thinking of her late husband.

The curves of his face.

The brilliance of his smile.

The touch of her fingers crazing his chin.

‘Rumleke. I am coming.’

With a blast of energy that felt like being drenched with icy water, the spell began. Never had this magic been attempted before, and never had she ever used so much magic at once.

She was spreading herself thin.

It was killing her, but she knew it would.

Even after she was gone, the spell would continue, and her promise would be fulfilled. The world would enter a time without magic, and humans would lose a great power that caused many of their wars.

Without it, would they enter a time of peace as Rumleke imagined?

Honestly, Dallylyn was not sure if she cared. It was just what he had wanted, and so she would see it done.

The tree's roots dug deep and spread out, taking what she needed from the soil. Taking the magic.

When such a vast well of magic had gathered it felt like she might split apart, the spell burst outward.

As it went, The queen's last thought was that she could feel something was lost. An important piece had been stripped from the land that was somehow essential, but the regret was far too late.

She was fading, and she welcomed the end.