My world-tree system-Chapter 87 - 86: Blushing

Foster watched Orëlas for another long moment, standing with arms folded, while the child - if he could still be called such - repeated the fire exercise with astonishing mastery. The flame was born, danced in his palm, extinguished, reborn. Always fluid, never forced.

He could have stood there for hours, contemplating it, making sure the fire didn’t get out of hand. But Foster knew he shouldn’t smother it either. He had to give it space. Trust.

He stepped forward gently.

- Keep practicing. Listen to your core, stay calm, don’t try to force anything. You’re making good progress. More than good.

Orëlas, concentrating, nodded without even looking away from the flame he was manipulating. Foster smiled faintly. Then, turning away, he left the clearing at a slow pace, crossing the wooden paths suspended between the branches of Vollua.

He was heading for the Mother Tree.

The sun filtered through the canopy, playing its rays on the organic walkways linking the different parts of the city. Elven children ran in the distance, laughing lightly, carefree. Their voices echoed in the sacred space of Vollua like a balm that no war seemed able to reach - not yet.

Foster climbed the twisted roots of the central shrine. He didn’t need to knock or be announced: Lïanna had already sensed him coming.

There she was, standing on one of the large, flat branches overlooking the clearing, arms crossed, golden hair swaying gently to the rhythm of the magical wind blowing through the tree.

- You feel everything, don’t you?" he said as he approached, a half-smile on his lips.

- You resonate through the roots, Foster," she replied calmly, without turning her head. Even if I wanted to ignore you, I couldn’t.

He joined her on the branch, leaning against the trunk, crossing his arms.

- He’s progressing fast.

- He was born for it. But it’s your guidance that makes the difference, you know? You’re his axis. His fire models itself on your calm.

Foster nodded slowly.

There was a peaceful silence. Then Lïanna resumed, her gaze fixed on the distance.

- The full moon was approaching.

Foster closed his eyes. He’d forgotten. Or rather... he’d wanted to forget.

- Already?

- Already. Four nights from now. The elves of the World Tree must prepare. The ritual must take place. We can’t break the cycle.

Foster sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, then leaned back against the trunk.

- These rituals are the hope of our people but..., he breathed. But I would have liked something else for our people.

Lïanna finally turned her eyes to him, intrigued by the peculiar tinge in his voice.

- Anything else?" she repeated softly.

Foster pursed his lips, staring straight ahead, avoiding her gaze.

- I gave my blood, my energy, my strength for Vollua. For Orëlas. For you. And I’d do it again without hesitation. But sometimes, I... I wonder if I’ll ever have the right to pass on something of myself other than through war or magic.

He paused, swallowed. And murmured, almost ashamedly:

- I wish... I wish I could create a life. A real life. Not by ritual. Not by a sacred seed. Just... a child. Flesh and blood.

And only then did he turn his eyes to her.

Lïanna.

And understood what he’d just said. What he’d implied.

He blushed violently, his eyes widening slightly.

- I meant... not necessarily with... well... it’s not... I mean...

She watched him in silence, a smile slowly emerging at the corner of her lips. Then she raised an eyebrow, mischievously, her gaze suddenly playful.

- Oh, I see. You want a child. Naturally. With... me?

Foster blushed.

- I- that’s not what I... well, I do, but not like that, well, maybe, but... not that-

Lïanna burst into a soft, light laugh, mocking without being cruel.

- You’re adorable when you lose your words, Foster.

He looked away, ashamed, muttering:

- That was stupid.

She approached slowly, placing a warm hand on his arm.

- It wasn’t stupid. It was honest. And rare.

Foster inhaled slowly, barely daring to look at her.

She smiled again, this time with more tenderness than malice.

- We’ll talk about this again. We will. When the war’s no longer here to sit between us.

He nodded softly, silent. And she added, more quietly:

- In the meantime... there are other forms of creation you already carry within you. Orëlas is one of them. So is the dragon. And those who follow you. Don’t minimize it.

He closed his eyes. She was right. She always was.

But part of him wouldn’t forget that confession.

Nor the warmth of her hand.

Nor the way she’d pronounced that simple word: adorable.

Twilight fell over Vollua, enveloping the city in a soft, unreal amber light. The foliage danced lazily under the caress of the wind, and the daylight lanterns lit up one by one between the branches, casting warm reflections on the suspended walkways.

Foster hadn’t returned to the training clearing.

He had wandered, alone, in the heights of the Mother Tree, letting his footsteps guide him aimlessly. His thoughts went round and round, between the responsibilities that were piling up, the choices to come... and what he had let slip earlier. That buried desire, that silent lack he’d never dared admit to anyone - and which he’d let slip through his lips like a confession too heavy.

He was sitting on a wide, winding root that overlooked the wooded valley, when he heard a rustle behind him.

He didn’t even need to turn around.

- Are you following me now?

- I’ve learned to recognize you in the forest," Lïanna murmured.

She approached slowly, barefoot, her leafy dress falling loosely over her slender figure. Her hair, still bathed in golden light, seemed to catch the last glimmers of daylight.

Foster made a place for herself next to him, without saying a word. She settled there, half turned towards him, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

- The view is beautiful," she said softly.

- Yes, it calms me.

There was a peaceful silence. Not awkward. Charged. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Foster hardly dared look at her, but he felt her so close, so real. And above all... so present. Not as Mother Tree. Not a leader, not a guide. Just her.

- You didn’t say anything earlier," he finally breathed. About... what I felt.

Lïanna turned her head towards him, her eyes shining in the evening light.

- The view is beautiful," she says softly.

- Yes, it calms me.

There was a peaceful silence. Not awkward. Charged.

Foster hardly dared look at her, but he felt her so close, so real. And above all... so present. Not as Mother Tree. Not a leader, not a guide. Just her.

- You didn’t say anything earlier," he finally breathed. About... what I felt.

Lïanna turned her head towards him, her eyes shining in the evening light.

- You’ve said it before, Foster. Better than you know. And you didn’t need more.

- Maybe I did. Maybe I should have...

- You’ve always had too much weight on your shoulders, she murmured, placing a light hand on his arm. Too much responsibility. You think that loving, or desiring, is a luxury you can’t allow yourself. But you’re wrong.

She paused, then added, her voice lower, more intimate:

- It’s precisely because you carry so much on your shoulders... that you deserve a place to rest your heart.

Foster felt his throat tighten.

She gently moved closer, until their shoulders touched. Then, very slowly, she slipped her hand into his. Her palm was warm, soft, imbued with the same energy as the forest itself.

- You don’t have to talk, Foster. Not now, Foster. Not yet. You have the right to breathe.

At last he turned his face to her, and this time he didn’t look away.

They stared at each other for a long, silent moment, as if searching for something in each other’s eyes. Something older, something deeper.

And they found it.

Lïanna approached gently, without abruptness, without hesitation. She rested her forehead against Foster’s, their breaths mingling in the tiny space between them.

- You’re alive, Foster," she murmured. You’re more than a leader, more than a guide. And you don’t have to love me as a duty.

- I don’t love you as a duty... he replied, his voice hoarse. I love you because I don’t know... how else to do it.

Then she slipped a hand over his cheek, and kissed him.

Slowly.

Warmly.

Without urgency.

But with all the quiet strength of a promise you no longer need to make.

When their lips parted, Foster stood there, motionless, his eyes half-closed, as if the world had just shifted around him.

- And now?" he asked breathlessly.

Lïanna smiled, resting her head against his shoulder again.

- Now... you shut up a little. And you stay. Right here.

He closed his eyes.

Time seemed to stop.

Foster hadn’t moved. He had neither the desire nor the need to. He was there, simply there, sitting against the warm side of the Mother Tree, Lïanna curled up against his shoulder, her hand in his. And for the first time in... he didn’t know how many moons, there was no threat to anticipate, no mission to carry out, no weight to bear.

Just this moment.

Just her.

Their breaths gradually synchronized, slow, deep. He could smell her perfume, a mixture of fresh moss, sap and warm wind. Her head rested with a natural tenderness against him, as if it had always belonged there.

- I never thought..." he finally murmured, in a low voice almost broken by intimacy, "that we’d ever have this kind of silence.

- The kind of silence that’s not scary?" replied Lïanna, her eyes half-closed.

Foster nodded gently. He felt her fingers tighten their grip around his.

- I’ve run so much, Lïanna. Always one step ahead of pain. One step behind death. And you... you were always there, like a beacon. But I never allowed myself to really look at you.

She didn’t answer right away. He only felt her hand slide slowly down his arm, to his wrist, where his pulse was beating.

- I saw you long before you saw me, Foster. You made yourself a mainstay before you knew it. And I let you. Not because I needed to... but because you needed to believe it was your burden alone.

She straightened slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. The light of the rising moon grazed her features, giving them an almost unreal aura.

- You carried Vollua. You carried Orëlas. You’ve carried all the dead and all the living. But me... I just want you to let yourself be carried. Just a little. By me.

Foster lowered his eyes, unable to bear the heat in her gaze any longer.

But Lïanna wasn’t an elf to let him run away.

She raised her hand, guiding his face to look at her again. And this time, in his eyes, there was no tension. No shadow.

Just acceptance.

And naked fear. The fear of feeling happy, even for a moment.

She smiled softly.

- It’s all right. You’ve got that right.

- I’m afraid to get used to it," he breathed.

- Then get used to it," she replied.

And she kissed him again, longer this time. Less gentle. Truer.

When they parted, their foreheads remained pressed together, and Foster closed his eyes. His hand slipped through Lïanna’s golden locks, as if he feared she would disappear with the slightest breath.

But there she was.

And she wasn’t moving.

- I’d like to stay here forever," he murmured.

- Then stay. Just for tonight. And tomorrow we’ll go back to being what we were meant to be.

- What if I don’t want tomorrow to happen?

She smiled at him, a burst of tenderness mixed with her eternal wisdom.

- So tonight, we push it back a little further.

And in this sanctuary woven of roots, bark and light, Foster finally let himself be carried. By a woman. By a promise. By a future whose weight was no longer his alone.

And for once, he didn’t need to be strong.