As the weeks passed, my Healer abilities improved thanks to Peter's tutelage, but I began to neglect Wizardry and Clerical classes. Juggling three subjects proved to be much harder than I'd thought.
With surprising ease, I lost myself in my work in order to forget the harrowing experience of seeing Father alive. I wanted to block the flashbacks of his monstrosity breaking a huge log in half and roaring louder than a thunderstorm.
Everything else fell by the wayside, including whatever semblance of a social life I'd had. The week before finals, Bragda tried to drag me out of my room after class. She threw her battle ax in the corner and slammed my book shut.
"Hey!" I exclaimed with indignation.
"Sis, join me in the pub. We need to relax before our exams start."
"I can't," I replied, giving her an apologetic glance.
"But it's the weekend."
"I have a paper to write on matter manipulation for Wizardry and a Clerical discussion paper on mutual respect during interfaith seminars."
"You need a damn break!" Bragda exclaimed.
"I'm going to fail if I don't."
"When in Hades did you get less than a perfect mark on a paper?"
"That's because I study, sis."
Bragda put her hands on her hips. "At least visit the Tree of Life. You haven't slept properly in days, and you look like shit."
"Thanks a lot," I muttered. "You go ahead without me this time. I promise we'll have quality time after the crazy finals are over."
"Fine, whatever. See ya."
For an entire week, I slept no more than four hours a night in order to catch up on my assignments. One day after I'd almost fallen asleep in class, Professor Petrescu cornered me and spoke to me in private.
"I'm worried about you," she said in a kind tone as Peter packed her equipment away.
"But I'm getting perfect marks and aced that paper on--"
She pursed her lips. "I'm not talking about your academic abilities. I'm talking about your health."
"What do you mean?"
Professor Petrescu gestured at me from head to toe. "You're losing weight. You're pale. You have dark circles under your eyes, and you're very drowsy and depressed in class."
Good gods, she doesn't miss a thing, does she?
"I'm fine, Professor."
"When was the last time you visited the Tree of Life?"
I blinked.
She shook her head. "That's what I thought."
"I'll go soon, I promise."
"You can't take on three classes and neglect your health," she said in a firm voice. "Those are telltale signs of mana deprivation. A minor, treatable ailment, but dangerous if left unchecked."
"I'll go on the Day of Rest," I replied.
"Good. This week, please." She paused. "Your Cleric professor has told me that you've had trouble centering yourself during the Life Force Ceremony."
I sighed and nodded.
"Perhaps Mr. Sardon can help," she suggested with a smile Peter reciprocated. "He's well versed in the Risan spiritual rituals. Judging by your last round of tutoring, you make a good team."
I couldn't help but furrow my brow before I acquiesced with a solemn nod. With Peter dressed in Rogue armor, I'd almost forgotten he'd earned his Cleric ribbon as well.
"Good, Miss Alta. Make sure you visit the Tree before sunrise in order to get the full benefit," she suggested. "I hope you don't think me pushy, but as a Healer, I can't help but notice."
"No, that's fine," I said, returning her smile. "Thank you, Professor."
"See you at the seventh bell, Liselle," Peter said with a wry smile.
❄️🔥❄️🔥
Two days later on the Day of Rest, I woke at the sixth bell and took a quick bath. Dressed in a fresh set of initiate Cleric robes, I wound my tricolor ribbons into my braid.
Bragda groaned and covered her head with a pillow. "Where in Hades are you going at this ungodly hour?"
"Funny you should say that," I replied. "I'm headed to the Tree of Life with Peter."
"Don't the Risa believe in sleep?" she asked in a petulant tone. "Wait, what in Hades is a Rogue doing with you at the Tree of Life?"
"My soul tells me he's more than just a callous Rogue."
She scoffed.
"I thought you liked him now that you've gotten to know him these past few weeks."
"I don't like anyone this early in the morning!" Bragda growled as she rolled over onto her stomach.
"The party was that good, huh?"
"Last night, yes. This morning, not so much."
A smile crept across my face. "Night, night, sis."
She groaned in response and buried herself beneath the quilt.
Like all Clerics, I drew the baggy, white hood over my head to obscure my face. Students cast their glances away in reverence--even the Barbarians--as I crossed the campus and entered the Sacred Garden.
A slender, dusky Risan Cleric was setting up a prayer mat and arranging his holy water for the Life Force Ceremony. My heart thudded, and I recoiled behind a large tree trunk. Disrupting the ceremonies of holy Clerics was a breach of Risan law. Since he'd arrived at the Tree first, Peter and I would have to wait.
"You don't have to hide away," the Cleric said in a deep, unfamiliar baritone.
"Forgive my intrusion, Master Cleric," I whispered under my breath with my head bowed. Even though I wasn't raised religious, I had great respect for religious leaders. "I didn't realize you'd be here."
The man clasped my arm, and I gasped in surprise. Clerics didn't usually touch members of the opposite gender. When I looked up, Peter's gray eyes peered at me from under the hood.
"It's me, Liselle," he said. "I morphed into my pure Risan form in order to perform the rituals."
The cilia from Peter's manual receptors extended and tickled my forearm. Tiny sparks danced along my skin as they did after I'd cast the avian sight spell in the library. When I gazed into his eyes, they shone with an intense emotion I couldn't quite place.
This time, I chose to ignore it.
When I followed him to the holy place and knelt beside him on the prayer mat, my heart thudded against my ribs with nerves. "It's been so long, Peter. I hope She still welcomes me."
He gave me a tender smile. "You don't need to worry. Whenever my physical form dies, the Tree welcomes me into Her gentle embrace until I heal, no matter how damaged my spirit is."
"That's different."
"If She can cure me all those times, She can enliven your slumbering spirit as well."
His words reassured me, and I heaved a great sigh of relief. After giving me a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, Peter retrieved the holy opal vessel from his leather satchel. The Risa reserved the container for watering only the Tree of Life so that nothing contaminated its purity.
Filling it with the stream beside the Tree, Peter began to water the roots that sprawled across the ground. They seemed to spread ever outward like the veins of our beloved planet.
"May this water sustain You as You sustain us, dear Mother," he chanted in melodious Risan dialect as he soaked the roots without waterlogging the soil. "Unite us with all of Creation."
Afterward, he handed the opal pitcher to me. I shook my head, unsure whether I dared to tend to Her in my darkened state. What would She say to me once She heard my thoughts?
"I'm not worthy, Peter. My emotions are filled with fear, doubt, and anger."
"Mother Nature embraces all who accept Her. Do you think Master Clerics are free of dark feelings?" He placed the vessel in my hands. "It's symbolic. It unites our souls with Hers."
As I sprinkled water on the other side of the Tree, a gust of wind swept through the clearing and teased my fiery hair. The cool breeze calmed and soothed my crackling nerves like aloe vera on a blistering burn.
After I'd finished, Peter knelt before the Tree. His receptors filled with interstitial fluid until they hardened into a mass of circular flesh extending from his palm. The tiny cilia on the surface of his receptors floated in the gentle morning breeze.
Peter aligned his manual receptors with the circular grooves on Her trunk. Her cilia extended towards his as they intertwined with a soft swish.
He drew a deep breath as Her life force flooded into him.
A powerful aura glowed around his body as vibrant as the dual suns. The Tree's energy coursed through his veins, tiny bubbles of light radiating beneath his sunkissed skin. I'd never seen his face so peaceful and at one with his environment.
How can this be the same man who morphed into a demon?
Peter murmured a Chant of Thanks as the Tree gave him sustenance, feeding his mind and spirit with the soothing balm of natural energy. His powerful voice intertwined with the rustling leaves and gentle birdsong.
The Tree's cilia made a soft rustling sound, and Peter disengaged his receptors from Her trunk. He knelt beside me before the Tree.
"Your turn. Let Her speak to you."
As I knelt before the Tree, She extended her cilia past the grooves. They wafted in the breeze like a gentle invitation. A sensation of tightness built up in my palms as my receptors filled with fluid and hardened. My cilia stood on end, straining towards hers, thirsty for her energy.
Once they joined, a warmth as gentle and pure as the rays of morning sun coursed through me. I sucked in a ragged breath. My cilia siphoned her energy like parched roots drawing in water. My soul became a small flame inside my chest as soon as She unified me with the life force of every living creature on Paxus.
Neither I nor the Tree spoke at first. I felt ashamed. A part of me felt tainted by my disturbing fiscas every night and by dark emotions about Father and the Fireborn. I was spiraling towards an endless abyss, and Mother Nature was my last resort.
Her tender, mellifluous voice echoed in the caverns of my mind, dusting away the cobwebs. Welcome, my child. Don't be afraid.
Mother, I've lost my way. I feel a darkness creeping over my spirit--a tiredness that never fades although I cannot sleep.
Open your heart, dear one. Accept the energy I give. It will help to relieve the pain.
Using the last of my inner strength, I opened my receptors. As Her energy flowed into my blood, it warmed my cold, bitter soul. I was a woman dying of spiritual thirst, and She was the healing tonic that tingled along my skin like blood rushing towards a compressed limb.
Tell me what troubles you, Liselle.
Father. The Fireborn. My village in ruins. My throat constricted at the thought. I've seen it over and over until I dread the thought of dreams, and I don't know what to do. Please guide me.
What does your heart tell you?
For a moment, I considered Her question. I cannot join the Fireborn. I'm a Healer, not a Warrior.
Bravery comes in many forms, and I respect them all.
Those demons Father created aren't natural. They go against Your desire for balance. I dread the Gatál, but I cannot accept the Fireborn either. I cannot follow his path.
Her voice resounded strong and true in my mind, like a gentle admonition. In these dark times, we must remain centered and true to ourselves.
What should I do?
You have the freedom of choice. That's a gift I grant to all my children--one I loathe to take away. She paused for a moment. Whatever you decide, know this. I'll always love you.
Please, Mother. I'm not sure I have the strength to do this alone.
Her voice turned tender and gentle once more, and I could almost imagine her smiling down at me. My child, you're never alone. Don't think only of what you've lost, but of all the love you have. Your sister cares about you, and you have a friend who cherishes you.
Peter?
Like a flower, friendship cannot bloom unless you allow the sun to shine and the rain to fall. Accept these blessings I bestow upon you, and you shall know a balm to your pain.
With a gasp, I opened my eyes, and the Tree disengaged Her receptors from mine.
Peter was still kneeling, but he was staring at me, not the Tree. He took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, a Risan gesture of friendship perfectly acceptable for a Cleric.
Even though a part of me rebelled at first, I drew nearer to him, relishing his familiar scent of mint and burning embers. We hugged as silent tears trailed down my cheeks. He pulled me closer and cooed soothing words in my native Risan dialect.
"That's it," he said. "Let her energy heal you."
Taking Mother Nature's advice, I sank into his warm embrace.
___
A/N: Cilia are the short hairs that connect two organisms and aid the transfer of energy between those organisms