Regrowth

A blanket of silence settled over the city as dawn broke in shades of lavender and primrose. Every fairy and creature in the Forest City of Vivier — even those in the infirmary who needed to be carted to the city’s center — were gathered around the Tree of Shadows, anxiously awaiting King Tiran. The constant breathing of the vine structured buildings had paused in preparation for the Regrowth Ceremony and the resulting quietness landed somewhere between peaceful and eerie.

Lira’s frail body laid at the base of the Tree of Shadows, her skin nearly translucent and her chestnut brown locks still curled naturally down past her shoulders. A bed of freshly cut white lilies surrounded her lifeless figure and coated the waxy leaf stretcher she laid upon.

As King Tiran descended down the spiral vine pathway encircling the Tree of Shadows, the ritual mist emanated from his grey woolen cloak. In his hands, rested the Regrowth Stone. As he reached the midpoint of his descent towards Lira, the fairies began their ceremonial chants and the Stone illuminated with a soft purple glow. As the chants rung louder, the stone’s brightness intensified. The pulses within the buildings of the Forest City revived — a deafening, ancestral drum beating along to the chants of the fairies.

Finally, King Tiran stood before Lira’s body and the chants cycled through once more, halting with a precision only reached through generations of recitation. He placed the stone in the notch of the Tree above Lira’s head and summoned the city’s two priestesses to join him. As they each grabbed ahold of Lira’s hands, he turned to face his people and began his oration.

“As our ancestors have given their bodies to create a home for us, so too does Lira give her frame. May the magic in her cells bond with the magic that flows through the roots of our wondrous Forest City. May her bones become the vines that structure our living buildings. May her soul fortify this city and stand watch, as the souls of all our ancestors who forged this forest always have. Let her live on.” As his sturdy voice declared that last sentence, every fairy extended their wings.

The priestesses lowered Lira’s hands, positioning them clasped above her heart and spread their own wings. They lifted, hovering mere inches above the ground and grasped hands with each other above Lira. King Tiran turned and placed his hands on theirs. Behind them, in unison, the entire city of fairies lifted into the sky, their wings sending a shimmering gust towards Lira and the Tree of Shadows.

Below the beating of their wings, the priestesses joined the king in concluding his oration. Lira’s curls began to float in the fairy-made wind and the lilies spiraled above her pale body. The shimmer of the blustering breeze intensified around her frame until her body began to merge with it and slowly Lira dissipated beneath the lavender glow of the Regrowth Stone.

As the last glimmer of Lira fell to the light of the stone, the priestesses quieted and the fairies returned to the ground, falling to their knees. At once, the lilies that filled the air turned purple and floated down to the far side of the city, landing on bare ground — where a new building would bud from Lira’s soul. The Regrowth Ceremony was now complete but it would take weeks for Lira’s magic to fully bond with the city’s roots and its ancestral magic. She would take hold of this city, just as every fairy does once they’ve passed. The city provides a sanctuary, a safe haven for the fairies — a sort of magical oasis — and in turn, they give it their bodies, magic and souls to regenerate it in a recursive cycle of holistic dependency.