Arling’s trademark smile was quick and rueful. “Lots of time for that later, Aphen.”
When they reached the gardens, they found the other Chosen gathered, but it was hard to tell for certain if they had just arrived or had perhaps been there all night. They ringed the tree, preparing for the morning greeting. It was clear they had done what they could, but none of their efforts seemed to have been even the least bit effective. The Ellcrys was a skeleton by now, a shadow of what she had been. Emaciated, withered, her bark turned crusty and her scarlet leaves black, she was in the final stages of her life. In the retreating darkness, lit only by the first rays of the rising sun, she seemed diminished to the point of nonexistence.
Freershan and the others saw the sisters approach and, after a moment of shock, leapt to their feet and came running. They gathered around, all talking at once, trying to find out where Arling had been and what had happened to her. But Arling said nothing. She didn’t even look at them, her head lowered and her scarlet eyes closed.
“She can’t speak with you now,” Aphen said quickly, realizing her sister lacked the strength and perhaps the desire to communicate with others. “Please move back. Let us go ahead alone. We are here to help the tree.”
She badly wanted to ask about her grandfather, about the city and its danger, about a dozen other concerns that crowded to the forefront of her mind. But she knew that any discussions would only slow them further. And in point of fact, what difference did it make? All that mattered now was restoring the tree.
Rebuilding the Forbidding and hastening Arling toward the end of her human life.
The words burned in her mind like live coals, but she endured them, facing the truth about what she was doing. There was no point in turning away. That would be disrespectful and cowardly, and a clear attempt to repudiate her sister’s decision.
The Chosen fell away, and she moved Arling ahead again, advancing on the skeletal form of the Ellcrys. The sun was cresting the horizon, its brilliant light splashing across the sky, penetrating the shadows and layering the tree in golden streaks. But the effect simply revealed even more of her damage.
When they reached the base of the rise, Arling stopped. “I must go alone from here, Aphen.”
“I can help you a little farther …,” Aphen started to say, but stopped when she felt Arling’s fingers dig into her arm.
“No. You must wait here.” Her sister’s head lifted, and the scarlet orbs of her eyes stared out from her stricken face. “I love you, Aphen. I always will, wherever I am, whatever happens to me.”
Aphen tried to speak and couldn’t. Instead, she wrapped her arms about Arling and held her close.
Her sister was crying now. “I wish we had more time. I wanted so much to be with you in Paranor. To be Druids together, you and I. I wanted nothing more than to be like you.”
“No.” Aphen shook her head, still holding her sister tight. “You were always better than me. Always.”
“Tell Mother, Aphen. Try to be there for her when she finds out. Be kind to her, no matter …”
She trailed off uncertainly. “I will,” Aphen promised.
They held on, unable to let go, unwilling to break the connection. Seconds slipped by, and Aphenglow felt the hurt of what was about to happen so badly it was physically painful. Even without knowing the details, even as uncertain as she was about what she would witness, she could hardly bear it.
“Come see me often?” Arling whispered, making it a question.
“Yes,” Aphen answered, and broke down completely, crying openly.
Arling hugged her once more and then pushed her away. She stumbled up the rise, a frail figure in the growing light of the sunrise, making her uncertain way toward the Ellcrys. Aphen watched helplessly, a part of her screaming that she should go after her sister. But she did as she was told and remained where Arling had left her, watching and waiting.
At the crest of the rise, Arling paused for a moment, staring at the desiccated tree. Then she moved closer, reaching out her hand and touching the blackened trunk. The Ellcrys shivered, more dead leaves falling away, more bark sloughing off. But it seemed to Aphen the tree was responding, recognizing who Arling was and what it meant to have her there.
Arling held her ground for a long moment, then moved close to the Ellcrys and wrapped her arms around her, leaning in.
A second later, the tree disintegrated completely, turning into a fine dust that showered down on Arling until she was completely covered.
Arling stood where she was for another few seconds, becoming a gray ghost, before lifting her arms skyward and uttering a long, mournful cry.
Then she began to change.