Chapter 64 - The Birth of the Healer (Her POV)

Chapter 64: The Birth of the Healer (Her POV)

Morning in Malvor's realm was unnaturally quiet. Warm light filtered through tall windows. Coffee steamed on the bedside table. Malvor stood at the open wardrobe like a man facing catastrophe. "Asha," he said gravely. "I don't know what to wear."

I watched him over the rim of my mug. "It's Ahyona's birthday. Just… show up."

He turned slowly, scandalized. "I always show up."

"No. You arrive." I gestured vaguely at him. "There's usually an entrance, confetti, fire, minor property damage."

He drew himself up with offended dignity. "I am a god of flair."

"Today, is not about you."

He faltered only slightly. He selected a soft cinnamon-colored sweater from the wardrobe. He adjusted the collar in the mirror. His hair, of course, was immaculate. A thin line of gold traced his eyes. 

I squinted at him. "Are you wearing glitter?"

He didn't look at me. "Barely." He sparkled anyway.

I turned back to my own reflection. Dark jeans. Cream sweater. Comfortable. Mine. Malvor stepped closer, catching my gaze in the mirror. The humor drained from his expression. "You look like yourself."

I stared at him for a second. "That's a bold assumption."

His mouth curved faintly, but he didn't argue. He patted his hair once more, a final act of control, and cleared his throat. "Important detail. Ahyona doesn't remain one age on her birthday. She cycles."

"Cycles how?"

"Child. Teen. Young adult. Adult. Elder." He shrugged. "The realm shifts with her. It can be… disorienting."

"That sounds chaotic."

He shot me a look. "It's curated. One year, she aged backward and lectured me at ninety before climbing a tree to avoid further discussion."

I blinked. "Should I be concerned?"

"Yes." He selected a light jacket and draped it over his arm. "Which is why I dressed in layers."

A seam of amber light split the air beside us. The portal unfolded. The scent of cedar and sage drifted through, threaded with autumn smoke. Malvor extended his hand to me, gold catching in the glow. "Ready for the calmest birthday in the Pantheon?"

"Absolutely not."

"Good. Then you'll fit right in."

I took his hand. Ahyona's realm recognized us the moment we stepped through. Leaves drifted without wind, amber, rust and gold. Lanterns hung from cedar branches. The air smelled of smoke and crushed berries. Malvor inhaled. "Autumn. The season that proves decay can be beautiful."

I nudged him before he could romanticize death further. Then she was there. Ahyona stood barefoot in the clearing, caught somewhere in girlhood. Her braids were threaded with feathers and tiny beads that clicked softly when she moved. Her face belonged to a child. Her eyes absolutely did not.

"You came," she said, and the trees leaned closer. She grinned. "We're playing hide-and-seek."

A collective groan moved through the gathered gods. Luxor tipped his head back. "Again."

Ahyona shot him a sharp look. "It evolves."

Malvor leaned toward me. "Last time we were lost for six hours."

"You cheated," Ahyona said without looking at him.

"I innovated."

She clapped once. The forest rearranged itself. Trees stretched taller. Paths split, curved, and folded back into themselves. Spirits slipped between branches. Ember-bright foxes, pale owls, wolves scattering into leaves before reforming again.

Malvor lit up. "That's better."

He stepped forward and fractured. A dozen versions of him peeled away in different directions. 

Ahyona's voice came from somewhere among the trees. "No."

Gold flashed. The duplicates vanished. I looked down as something brushed my shoulder. A leaf, gold-speckled, faintly luminous. It trembled. "Asha," came Malvor's voice, strained with outrage. "I have been photosynthesized."

I covered my mouth. "You were warned."

"This is discrimination."

"Against what?"

"Creative problem-solving."

I plucked him from my shoulder and slipped him into my pocket. "I object to this arrangement."

"Noted."

He went rigid with offense.

I began walking. I wasn't trying to win. I didn't know the rules well enough to win. I picked a path because standing in the clearing while immortal beings vanished into an enchanted forest felt considerably more stupid. The farther I went, the quieter everything became. I stopped. Something tugged beneath my ribs. Not pain. Not exactly magic either. Recognition.

I turned left. Malvor shifted in my pocket. "Did you hear something?"

"No." Another pull. I followed it.

The path curved around two cedars and ended at a third, enormous and completely ordinary except for the faint shimmer beneath its bark. I stared at it. The feeling stopped. "You're in there."

The bark split Ahyona tumbled out in a shower of leaves, feathers askew, eyes wide. "How—?"

She stared at me. I stared back. "You don't even know the rules. How?"

"I don't know."

Her eyes narrowed.

"That's concerning."

"To you or me?"

"Yes."

A branch snapped somewhere behind us. Luxor emerged, brushing leaves from his shoulders. "Ah. Excellent— oh."

Ahyona groaned.

"I was close," he protested.

"You were not."

She took my wrist and tied a bead-and-leaf charm around it. The moment it touched my skin, every sound sharpened. The leaves overhead, Luxor's breathing, something small moving beneath the soil. Then it vanished. I looked at her.

"Blessing of Clear Sight," she said. "Use it carefully."

"Did I actually win?"

"You found me."

"By accident."

Ahyona's smile went crooked. "Still counts."

"Next round." Her grin disappeared. "I get older now."

From my pocket, Malvor sighed.

"Oh, no."

One moment Ahyona stood barefoot in the clearing, bright with childish mischief. The next, leaves swept up around her. When they fell, adolescence had taken her. She was taller now, all sharp angles and restless energy. Her braids had loosened into dark waves threaded with copper, and her clothes shifted with her. The mischief had vanished from her face. She looked irritated by our existence.

"Quiet," she said. All sound ceased. 

Malvor's voice dropped from my pocket. "This is the dangerous one."

Ahyona didn't look at him. "You. Leaf. Remain."

Malvor inhaled to protest.

"Remain," she repeated. He reconsidered. She crossed her arms, looking over the gathered gods. "You hide well, but not from yourselves."

Maximus had begun drifting toward the drinks.

"Maximus."

He stopped. "I wasn't doing anything."

"You were about to."

He returned to his place.

"You will take one thing from my realm and transform it into something that reflects what you are. Not what you perform."

Her eyes flicked toward my pocket. "No portals."

The leaf went very still.

Zolandi lifted a hand politely. "Is there—"

"No."

Zolandi lowered her hand.

"No prompt?" Luxor asked.

"No prompt. If you require one, you already misunderstand."

Luxor frowned. "I preferred you at eight."

"I would prefer you as a leaf."

Malvor rustled indignantly from my pocket.

We dispersed without further instruction. Yara stripped a vine from a cedar and wove it with seashells that should not have existed this far from water. Calavera plucked a bone-white blossom. Leyla crouched beside the roots of an old cedar and carefully chose something too small for me to see.

I walked farther than the others. I understood what Ahyona had asked. That was the problem. Something that reflected what I was. Not what I performed. I had been a Herald. A vessel. A weapon. A servant. Malvor's possession. A goddess, apparently, though that one still felt ridiculous. None of those answered the question.

A spirit fox formed beside me from flickering amber light. It brushed my leg, then trotted ahead without looking back.

"That's not helpful," I told it. The fox sat down. "Glad we agree."

I picked up a smooth stone. Too easy. Put it back. A cedar sprig. No. One of the wooden beads hanging from a low branch caught my attention. I touched it, waited for the same strange certainty that had led me to Ahyona. Nothing.

Good. Apparently my mysterious new instincts had office hours. I left the bead where it was.

When we returned, Ahyona sat on the root-woven platform, one knee drawn up beneath her. "Begin."

Luxor stepped forward first. He held up a golden leaf. Light poured from it, shaping itself into a small contained sun.

Ahyona looked at it and rolled her eyes. "Predictable."

Luxor's mouth fell open.

She sighed. "And honest."

He recovered immediately. "I'll take it."

"Of course you will. Praise is your favorite renewable resource." Luxor stared at her. Ahyona pointed toward Maximus. "Next."

Maximus presented a single berry. It split once. Then again. And again, until twenty-seven rested in his palm, no two quite alike. Strawberry. Blackberry. Mulberry. Fruits I didn't recognize, each distinct from the one beside it. One, near the center, gleamed gold.

Ahyona looked at his hand. "Excess. Predictable."

Maximus smiled. "You understand me."

"Unfortunately."

Her eyes lingered on the golden berry. His fingers curled slightly around them. Ahyona looked away first. "Next."

Bresoria stepped forward. A dark feather lengthened into a quill and carved shadows into the air. Words appeared behind it, too fast for me to read. Some vanished before they were finished. Others were struck through so violently the shadows split.

Ahyona's expression changed. "Bree."

Bresoria's jaw tightened.

"That is not nothing," Ahyona said quietly.

Bresoria noticed me watching. Whatever had been exposed disappeared from her face. "It is sufficient."

Ahyona's mouth tightened. She didn't have something smart to say. Ahyona let it go. Tairochi placed his stone on the platform. Nothing changed. Ahyona waited. So did he. Finally, one corner of her mouth moved. "Of course."

I looked between them. "That's it?"

Tairochi inclined his head. Ahyona shrugged. "He understood."

"He didn't do anything."

"Exactly." She said, like I was the stupid one. That explained absolutely nothing.

It was my turn. My hands were empty. Ahyona looked at them then at me. "Show us."

"I don't have anything." A few heads turned. Heat crawled up my neck. "I tried."

Ahyona waited. I hated that more than if she'd laughed. "I don't know what I'm supposed to choose."

"I told you."

"Something that reflects what I am."

She nodded.

I looked down at my empty hands. "That's the part I don't know."

Silence stretched. "Good," Ahyona said.

I looked up. "Good?"

"Yes."

"I failed."

"I didn't say you succeeded."

I stared at her. "Why is that good?"

She was already looking toward the next person. "Because you didn't lie."

Malvor trembled faintly in my pocket. "I could have produced—"

"Silence."

The leaf wilted dramatically. Before Malvor could protest his continued botanical imprisonment, golden smoke folded around him and released him onto his feet. His cinnamon sweater was wrinkled. He looked down at himself. Horror. "You creased me."

Ahyona smiled for the first time since she'd changed. "You'll survive."

The sharpness of adolescence dissolved, not into softness, but into steadiness. Her shoulders settled. Her gaze widened, not less intense, just less volatile. The trees brightened subtly in acknowledgment, as if an older rhythm had resumed beneath their roots. She stood before us no longer edged with rebellion but anchored in herself. Young, powerful, unapologetically whole, a woman in her prime. As Ahyona changed again. Her shoulders settled. The restless energy went quiet. She stood taller now, a young woman comfortable in her own skin. Her hair fell longer now, braided down her back with herbs and thin strips of bark, as if the forest had threaded itself into her spine. Her clothing layered into woven textures of deep red and burnt gold, the sleeves pushed back from her wrists.

"Come," She crooked a finger at me. "We're cooking."

Malvor made a low sound of protest. "Her cooking trials are psychological warfare."

Ahyona looked at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"That was not a nothing look."

She turned away. "Come, Asha."

I followed her. Behind me, Malvor muttered something about emotional abuse. She led me toward a wooden doorway half-hidden between two cedar trunks. Warm air brushed my face as we stepped through, scented with herbs. Inside, the kitchen felt lived in. Clay pots simmered over low flame. The wooden counters bore knife marks and years of use. Bundles of dried plants hung from the beams overhead. A stone oven radiated steady warmth. She placed a bowl in my hands. "You cook with me."

"I don't know how," I admitted.

"Good. I hate unteaching bad habits."

I stared at her.

"I'm serious."

We washed vegetables together at a basin carved from river rock. She chopped herbs with a stone blade. I peeled unfamiliar roots, their scent tugged at something buried in me.

Badly.

Ahyona glanced at the mangled thing in my hand. "What did it do to you?"

I looked down. Half the root was gone with the peel. "It resisted."

"You took that personally?"

"Apparently."

She slid another one toward me. "Again." The second survived with considerably more dignity. "You are quieter here," she said after a while.

"It's easier here."

"Why?"

I looked around the kitchen. "I know what I'm supposed to do."

Chop. Peel. Stir. Nothing hidden underneath it. Ahyona held out a wooden spoon. "Stir clockwise to build body. Counterclockwise to release bitterness."

I took it. "That isn't symbolic, is it?"

"No."

"Good."

One corner of her mouth lifted. "You really don't like symbolism."

"I've had enough things carved into me with deeper meaning."

The smile disappeared. She handed me a pinch of salt. "Then today, salt means salt."

I added it and stirred. The broth thickened under my hand, responding to intention as much as motion. She moved beside me without crowding. Once, she shifted my wrist when I angled too close to the flame. She dropped dried lavender into my palm. "What's this one do?"

"Helps you breathe."

I looked at her.

"Literally, Asha."

"I'm checking."

She laughed. I let it fall into the pot. The scent opened in the steam. We worked without talking for a while. Eventually I said, "I really did fail back there."

"Yes."

I stopped stirring. She took the spoon from me before the broth could burn. "You're terrible at comforting people."

"You weren't asking for comfort."

"What was I asking for?"

She tasted the broth, considered it, then handed the spoon back. "Permission to be embarrassed."

I frowned. "Am I?"

"Deeply."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." I started stirring again.

We finished in silence. She leaned over the pot and inhaled. "Needs salt."

"You said salt means salt."

"It does. It also means you didn't add enough."

I added more. She tasted it again and nodded. "We feed them."

We stepped back into the clearing, she shifted again. The young woman did not disappear, so much as settle further into herself. A few lines appeared around her eyes. Her braids thickened, streaked now with the first threads of silver. She looked like someone accustomed to being responsible for everyone in the room. She clapped once.

The realm answered. A long table rose from the earth, cedar grown and shaped in a single breath. Leaves wove themselves along its length. Bowls and plates appeared. Bread steamed in woven baskets. Roasted roots. Meats glazed in berry reduction. Tea poured itself into clay cups.

Maximus inhaled reverently. Zolandi caught his sleeve before he lunged. "I was only looking."

"You were leaning."

"Looking requires angles." Zolandi gave him a look. Maximus grinned and wrapped an arm around her instead.

Malvor gestured toward the pot. "She made that. I supervised emotionally."

"You were a leaf," I said.

"An emotionally supportive leaf."

Ahyona ignored us both and began serving. She didn't ask anyone what they wanted. Apparently she already knew. More meat for Maximus. No mushrooms for Luxor. Something green disappeared from Malvor's plate before he could object to its existence. Leyla received enough bread for three people and immediately stole another piece from a smirking Calavera. Ahyona slapped her hand without looking. Leyla stole it anyway.

When she reached me, Ahyona ladled some of our stew into my bowl. "Try it."

I did. She waited. "You were right. It needed more salt."

"I know."

"Humble."

"Also something I know."

We ate. Conversation rose around me. Luxor complained about the mushrooms he hadn't received. Maximus kept Zolandi tucked against his side while somehow eating enough for three people. Yara and Calavera were arguing about something that had apparently happened several centuries ago. Leyla kept correcting both of them. Tairochi ate in silence, looking entirely content to let everyone else make enough noise for him. Bresoria sat farther down the table. Quieter than the others. Once, I caught her looking at me. She looked away.

Ahyona lifted her cup. "Another year." The table quieted. She looked around at all of us. "Some of you changed. Some of you refused to. Some of you disappeared and found your way back." Her attention lingered on Bresoria. Worried. Bresoria gave her the smallest shake of her head. Ahyona let her. "And somehow," she continued, lifting her cup, "you're all still here."

Malvor raised his. "An inspiring testament to immortality."

"I was going to say friendship."

"Oh." He considered it. "Yours is nicer."

"Obviously."

Maximus lifted his cup. "To another year."

The others followed. I lifted mine with them. Ahyona smiled. "And another year of none of you successfully killing each other."

Maximus paused with his cup. "Successfully?"

"I'm managing expectations."

Malvor lifted his. "To lowered standards."

"You are the reason for the standards."

Cups lifted around the table. Malvor leaned toward me, clinking his cup lightly against mine. "I was an excellent leaf."

"You were very photosynthetic."

"Thank you." Around us, everyone started talking again.

When I blinked, Ahyona stood at the head of the table as an Elder. Not frail, not diminished, just ancient. Her hair fell long and silver-white, braided with feathers and stones polished smooth by touch. The lines in her face deepened around her face and mouth. Nothing about her glowed. Nothing needed to.

Even Malvor went still.

"Come, Asha." She turned and walked toward the trees.

I followed. A circle of stones waited around a low fire burning blue at its core. She lowered herself onto one. I sat opposite her. Gold moved through the blue flames between us. She studied me for a long time. "Child, you carry too much."

I looked into the fire. "I'm working on it."

"I know." Her hands rested loosely in her lap. "You have been working very hard at healing."

I looked at her. "Isn't that the point?"

"Sometimes."

"That's annoyingly vague."

"Wisdom usually is."

"Malvor would hate that answer."

"Malvor hates any answer he cannot argue with." A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Ahyona smiled. Then she looked back at the fire. "You learned to survive by watching. There was always something expected of you."

My fingers curled against my knees.

"Even now," she continued, "you keep asking what comes next. What you should become. What you should fix."

The empty hands from her earlier trial flashed through my mind. That's the part I don't know. "I don't know how not to."

"I know." She reached across the space between us and held out her hand.

I stared at it. "What do I do?"

"Nothing."

I looked at her. "Nothing?"

"You are very bad at it."

"I've noticed."

Her mouth twitched. "Then practice."

I placed my palm in hers. Her skin was warm, dry, steady. For a moment, nothing happened. No power entered me. No rune burned. No voice spoke inside my head. Ahyona simply held my hand. I waited and waited. "Is something supposed to happen?"

"No."

Of course. I breathed out. The fire cracked softly between us. Somewhere beyond the trees, the others laughed. I could pick Malvor's voice out among them, loudly defending something he had almost certainly done. My shoulders loosened.

Ahyona squeezed my fingers once. "There."

"There what?"

"Nothing."

I narrowed my eyes. She smiled and opened her arms. That I understood. I went to her. She held me without saying anything. When we rose, nothing about me had changed. I liked that.