Journey to the stars and worlds of imagination: Hooked on Windmaster, destiny foretold #mfrwhook

Today's excerpt is from the first story set in the world of Windmaster. From the book that gave the universe its name, a tale of friend's lost and raw memories, Introducing the kapuna tree.

Excerpt:

The faint blue rune of an illusion spell flickered, its light almost hidden within the thick bushes’ sapphire leaves. A wave of Dal’s hand cleared the protective spell. Three steps took him into the veiled clearing. The stillness, the feeling of peace, was even more overwhelming here than on the mountain. Even the need for vengeance, bred into his bones by the traditions of generations of his ancestors, gave way before it.

An ancient tree, old before time began, almost filled the small space. Long tendrils hung finger-like from the branches that formed a high canopy.

Heart-shaped leaves covered each narrow strand. In each leaf, veins, the brown-red color of dried blood, made the tree look like the grisly aftermath of battle. Dal slowly walked around the tree. Close up he could see a faint symbol—a mage identification—on each leaf. With each step he traced the names of dead friends and the fellow members of the Wizard’s Council.

Something shimmered at the end of a branch. The leaf’s vein was a vibrant pure red. Instead of the stillness of the other leaves, this one pulsed. Even before he spotted the rune that symbolized his own name, Dal realized the leaf’s rhythm was that of his own heartbeat. The leaf marked his lifeline.

At the end of the branch, a leaf without a symbol also vibrated. He ran a finger along of its main vein. Despite the feather-light touch, a shock numbed his arm. Ellspeth’s face appeared then faded, leaving behind only an undefined yearning.

The flicker of the adjacent leaf was noticeably slower, and with each passing second, the color turned darker and darker. Its small veins had already shifted into deep red. Dal knew without even looking that the name marked on the leaf was Semelen’s.

Semelen’s hand felt warm on Dal’s shoulder, despite the coolness of the glade. “It was not your fault, my friend, that you were away when it happened. The poison spread so quickly not even the most skilled healers among us could have saved those on the island. We’re just fortunate you survived to carry on the work... and to rebuild the council.”

Dal wrenched away from the intended comfort. “There is no council anymore. Everyone is dead. I built the pyres myself.” His voice grew quieter with each word, until it was almost a whisper.