The Defiance of Vim (Catalyst Book 4) by C.J. Aaron (graded readers txt) 📕

It took but a moment of introspection for the answer to resolve with startling clarity. Da’agryn smiled before the words escaped the mercenary’s mouth.

“The Lei Guard. The Erlyn means to save them.” His voice did little to hide his excitement and the emotion behind it.

The prophet’s smile blanched slightly, drooping until only one corner remained raised. The effort was forced.

“Assist them, she will, yet saving them will come at a price,” he answered cryptically. “She can remove every last drop of the taint that has poisoned their bodies.”

His head drooped slightly as he paused. The prophet folded his arms behind his back, exhaling a deep sigh. His shoulders shrank as the air escaped his lungs.

“Look at this clearing. Look with not only your eyes but your senses as well.” Da’agryn wandered through the trees, avoiding the vines as he passed. “Do you not feel it? Or more importantly, the absence of it?”

There was a subtle difference. Andr noted the overall state sensation in the atmosphere. So much had changed in his body over the course of a few short days. Though he was coming to terms with his altered state, the differences still annoyingly eluded him.

Every sense felt enhanced. The rubbing of his clothes against his skin was dramatic. He felt each tiny hair as it was brushed aside. The scents of the forest were overpowering. The heady smell of damp earth and loam mixed with the sweet aroma of wood. The result was as empowering as it was disorienting.

He noticed it now as he watched the clearing with enlightened eyes. Since the boon of the Erlyn, the scenery had felt so alive. So powerful. Here, the woods seemed lifeless, yet there was a purpose he could sense. An subtle, underlying importance no words could describe.

“That you feel it is evident.” Da’agryn grinned. “I’ve witnessed the recognition dawn across your features. This area, though a part of the forest’s domain, shares no connection with the woods that surround it. The trees exist on their own. Neither the roots nor limbs share the power that thrives around them.”

Andr reached down, collecting a handful of the loose soil that spread out around his feet. The dirt separated easily. The clumps were dry, fracturing in his hands as he worked them slowly apart. The individual grains separated, falling through the gaps in his fingers much like fine grains of beach sand.

“These trees share no life with that of the forest,” Da’agryn continued, though his voice and essence blurred as his tenuous solidity gave way to greater translucence. “The precious bits of fragile life that beat through what remains of her domain cease at the boundaries of this clearing.”

“Then why lead us here?” Andr wondered. He wiped the dirt from his hands, leaving powdery brown smudges on his pants. “What purpose does this dead glade hold?”

Da’agryn cracked a weak, pained smile.

“Though bleak, the glade still lives. It exists with a purpose that is uniquely its own.” His airy voice dissipated. His words seemed to carry on the breeze that gently swirled amongst the trees. “This place holds a future for some.”

“It holds their salvation,” Andr gasped, though the prophet continued unabated. His time was running short, as his features wisped away with the breeze.

“Those corrupted can be cleansed of the taint that has polluted their cores,” Da’agryn whispered. “Like the sterile soil below your feet, what remains will be stripped of all power. Though the blackened stain of the Horde will be destroyed, so too will the alexen.”

“Yet they will live?” Andr stated. “A life devoid of unnatural power is still a life worthy of leading. Wonders have been created by those with far less.”

“Aye, my friend. They will still live.” Da’agryn sighed. “Bring them to the trees.”

As the final word left his lips, the vision of his body ceased. Thin wisps of green floated away, carried by the final tendrils of air that pulled back into the heart of the woods. His voice faded into nothing more than a slight rustle of leaves.

Chapter 11

The fervent debate that rolled through those gathered in the inner sanctum of the woods ceased as Andr moved toward the trees. All eyes followed the mercenary, mouths agape as his body strode unimpeded by word or touch to the woods. Tributes and guards alike parted before him as he moved.

His eyes were focused far beyond them, though none could distinguish their target. Andr’s steady pace gave no indication of deviating from its present course. They eagerly moved aside before testing his resolve.

Though most had experienced the mysterious workings of the hidden pathways through the forest, a collective gasp arose as the trees shifted before him. Without a word or glance behind, the mercenary strode forward. The trees swallowed him as soon as his body crossed the threshold.

It was moments before anyone spoke.

It was moments before a new debate, no less fervent than the first, began anew.

Tributes and guards alike rushed to the tree line, peering into the impossibly dense foliage that concealed their forest shelter.

“Where did he go?” Cray yelled at the phrenics. His face contorted as he immediately regretted the harsh tone of his voice. He’d lashed out at those who had clearly no influence or control over the mercenary’s actions. “Can you find him?”

The phrenics’ eyes met for an instant, long enough for a moment of understanding to pass between them. It was Vox who spoke for the remaining warriors.

“With no knowledge of where Andr has gone, there is no way of opening a path to him,” Vox relayed. The questions issuing from a multitude of lips in unison blurred into a cacophony of unintelligible noise. With raised hands and a wave of calm from his core, the phrenic silenced the stunned crowd.

“Fear not the path he now walks,” Vox continued reverently. “The Erlyn has done nothing but provide. There are only a handful among us here who can hear her. Few can understand her voice and her will. Fewer