Jus Sanguinis - 1. Jus Sanguinis

Rowan yelped as Pieter scooped him off his feet, then turned sideways and stood in front of the doorway to their new home.

“May I?” Pieter asked.

“May you what? Put me down! What the fuck are you doing?”

“May I carry you inside?” Pieter rolled his eyes.

Rowan winced as his boyfriend gripped his arm and leg tightly. It felt like he’d have finger-shaped bruises later.

“I don’t care, just put me down!”

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

Rowan struggled to free himself, but Pieter held firm.

“Yes! Oh, my fucking god!” Rowan’s foot banged on the wooden doorframe as he kicked out and sunfished in Pieter’s arms as Pieter stepped over the threshold and into the house.

Pieter tried to let Rowan down gently, but all the thrashing made that impossible. It was like trying to hold on to a wet, writhing fish. Rowan landed unceremoniously on his ass and glared at the man smirking above him.

“Get up, drama llama. Sheesh; you’d think I was trying to murder you or something.” He held his hand out, and Rowan grudgingly allowed him to pull him to his feet.

“Seriously, though. Why the hell did you do that?”

“It’s a family tradition. Carrying your spouse over the threshold of a new home. Countless generations of Hansens have stepped through this very door, spouse in arms.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “You mean like carrying your bride over the threshold? First of all, we’re not married. Second of all…do I even need to say I’m not your bride?”

Pieter laughed and clapped his hand on Rowan’s shoulder, reaching up slightly to do so. “Aw hell, Ro. It’s nothing like that! I’m just messing with ya. And it won’t be too much longer before we actually are married.”

“I seriously don’t know how I let you talk me into moving to a house I’ve only seen in pictures.”

“Oakhaven has been in my family for generations. I couldn’t let anyone else have it after Oma and Opa died.” Pieter stepped closer to Rowan and kissed him. “Thank you. I mean it. This place is really special to me, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather share it with.”

“Damn right.” Rowan grinned. “So let me check this place out! Let’s see if it lives up to the pictures.” He turned around to inspect the room they stood in. He hadn’t said anything on the drive up to the old house, but the long, tree-lined drive and surrounding forest were beautiful. The house itself almost took his breath away. Even from the outside, it was obvious a lot of love, care, and craftmanship went into its construction.

The word that immediately came to Rowan’s mind was ‘quirky’. The house exuded personality, as if it were a living entity. It looked like a cross between a castle and a gnome house. Light-gray stone comprised the outside, accented by maroon trim around the windows and dark-gray slate on the roof. A wooden porch wrapped around the house from the front door, disappearing around the right corner. The left side of the house had an actual tower with a pointed roof that resembled the top of a rocket. Rowan wondered if Rapunzel would appear and let down her hair.

The front door was a work of art. It was painted maroon to match the window frames and was surrounded by wooden trim carved into tree branches, meeting at the top in an explosion of oak leaves and acorns. Rowan had been studying it, slack jawed, when Pieter scooped him up and deposited him unceremoniously inside.

The interior was just as stunning. Polished hardwood floors gleamed under Rowan’s feet. The walls were painted a mustard yellow that would be unappealing elsewhere, but somehow fit the room perfectly. The sofa faced a stone fireplace, with two chairs on either side. The furnishings all meshed cohesively with the aesthetic of the place. The fireplace was made of the same stone as the outside of the house but was surrounded by dark-green tiles embossed with a variety of different leaves; oak, maple, willow, and his namesake, rowan, were a few he could identify. Above the fireplace rested a long, wooden mantel carved with the same design as the door trim: interwoven branches laced with leaves and acorns, all converging into a masculine face formed of leaves and branches, with a long mustache hanging down either side of his face.

That face….

Rowan stared into the wooden eyes, entranced. There was something familiar about the figure—intangible, yet it burned into his very soul. He reached out to touch it, hand trembling. The wood felt warm to his touch, even though it was still early spring and cool enough to wear a jacket. His fingers tingled with energy, pulling him—

Rowan jumped when Pieter grabbed his arm. “Hey, there’s a lot more to check out. C’mon, I want to show you the rest of the house.”

Rowan nodded and continued looking into the eyes of the leafy man. He swore the wooden orbs followed him until he left the room. Shaking his head, he wondered what the hell had just happened. He took in the rest of the house perfunctorily. His senses were overwhelmed. It was simply too much to process, so he nodded as Pieter took him from room to room, giving him the family history of the place.

The house didn’t look that big from the outside, but as they moved through it, Rowan wondered how much space two people needed. There were three spare bedrooms, not counting their own master bedroom. In addition to the living room with the entrancing fireplace in the front of the house, there was a large family room in the back of the house. The back wall was comprised of floor-to-ceiling windows looking out into a large clearing with a pond, backed by the forest.

The tour ended with a trip up the spiral staircase in the tower, culminating in a round room with built in bookshelves encircling the lower half of the wall and windows giving a birds-eye view of the woods on the upper half. A desk facing the windows interrupted the flow of the bookshelves. The view was spectacular. It was late evening, and the tops of the trees looked ablaze from the fiery sunset.

Pieter wrapped his arms around Rowan’s midsection and pressed into his back. “I knew you’d love it. This room is yours. I figured it would be perfect for your office.”

Rowan turned in his boyfriend’s arms and smiled, then kissed him. “It’s perfect. I mean like seriously perfect. This place is paradise! And the artistry of this house; every detail is incredible!” He narrowed his eyes at Pieter. “So, what’s wrong with it. Is it haunted? Inhabited by faeries who will do evil and nasty things to us unless we give them the proper offering? Infested with mice?”

Pieter laughed. “This is why I love you. You’re nuts.”

“You haven’t answered my question.” Rowan quirked an eyebrow and bit his lip, trying not to laugh.

“I’ve got some sage to burn to ward off the ghosts, and we need to leave a saucer of acorns on the back porch every night, otherwise the faeries will make our lives miserable. I forgot the mouse traps, though, so don’t leave any food out.”

“And you call me nuts?”

“Speaking of food, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. How about I head to town and pick up a pizza?”

Rowan grinned. “You honestly think I’d turn down pizza? Meat lovers with extra bacon.”

“Got it. Veggie lovers with extra broccoli and onions.”

“There better not be any green shit on my pizza or I’m calling off the wedding.”

Pieter rolled his eyes. “Suit yourself. Be back in a bit.” He trotted down the stairs.

Rowan stared out into the forest for several minutes, transfixed by the swaying of the branches in the moderate breeze. He couldn’t wait to explore the woods and see what kind of trails were out there. He reluctantly turned away from the view and headed down the spiral stairs slowly. The railing was some kind of dark wood, polished smooth with the sides intricately carved with ivy. He stopped at the second floor and took a quick look at the bedrooms again before heading down to the main floor. I’d better unpack some dishes so we have something to eat on, he thought.

The movers had done a fantastic job, stacking meticulously labeled boxes in the rooms they were destined for. Rowan and Pieter had taken several days to reach the place, visiting friends and family along the way. It had been a nice trip, but Rowan was ready to move on to the next phase of his life.

He easily found the dishes and unpacked them. He washed them before setting the small table in the breakfast nook right off the kitchen. After putting away a few of the kitchen boxes, he decided to take a break. It seemed like it was taking a long time for Pieter to return with their dinner. Rowan’s stomach grumbled in agreement.

He headed to the living room and sat on the couch, facing the strange fireplace. He shivered. Maybe they should build a fire tonight and christen the new home in front of it. Rowan lifted the corner of his mouth in a smile. He’d always wanted to have sex in front of a fireplace. He sat back on the couch and crossed his legs, pressing his dick against his leg. Oh yeah…first pizza…then Pieter.

His moan caught in his throat as he made eye contact with the strange figure in the middle of the mantel. He immediately uncrossed his legs and sat up straight. Fuck. There was no way he could have sex with that guy watching them.

Get it together, Ro. It’s just a carving. Right?

Rowan swore the leafy man’s eyes twinkled with mirth. His face flushed red with embarrassment. I’m totally losing it. Why am I so self-conscious around a freaking fake face? He stood and approached the mantel again slowly. He wondered who carved such a life-like countenance. And the branches and leaves, too. It almost looked like they were swaying from a light breeze.

Rowan reached out his hand and brushed his fingertips lightly along the face’s cheek. It felt almost sacrilegious to do so. Who was he to dare touch such beauty unbidden? He started to move his hand away, but then screamed as the wooden branches on either side of the leafy man stretched out like sinewy arms and latched onto his forearm, preventing him from going anywhere.

The man laughed, a breezy sound with no malice. Look. Rowan wasn’t sure if the command was spoken or in his mind. His body went rigid as the house disappeared around him, leaving him standing at the edge of a dense forest. Rowan felt an overwhelming urge to enter the woods even though there was no discernable entrance. Just as he was about to start wading through the underbrush, the branches moved aside, revealing a clear trail. He immediately followed it, walking for what felt like miles until he reached a small clearing.

This was his destination. He knew it as clearly as he knew his own name. Stepping over the rocks encircling the clearing, he emerged into bright sunlight. Home…I’m home…but how can that be? I’ve never been here before. Besides, I was raised in the ‘burbs! A sense of great joy flooded through him as a figure emerged from a large oak at the other side of the clearing. After it took a few strides, Rowan realized it wasn’t a figure so much as the tree itself coming to greet him.

Rowan’s first thought was it looked like an ent from The Lord of the Rings, although much smaller. The tree-man was only slightly taller than Rowan himself. As it drew nearer, he could see the face was the same as the one in the fireplace mantel. The man smiled and spoke, “I’ve been waiting for you, Rowan.” The voice was wind and earth, the rustle of leaves and the smell of dewy moss all at once. He knew this voice and this…thing. But how?

“How do you know my name?” he asked, staring intently at the wooden man. He was reminded of driftwood sculptures he’d seen, although this was made of living wood.

“I know many things about you. We have much to discuss. First, I want to tell you—”

“Rowan! Earth to Rowan!”

Rowan gasped and flinched as a hand waved quickly in front of his face. He stumbled rapidly backward, away from the fireplace, and sat heavily on the couch. Pieter stood in front of him, brow furrowed with concern. “What…what the fuck?”

“What’s going on, Ro? I got home and found you staring at the mantel. You were touching that face on it, but it was like you were in a trance or something. I’ve been trying to snap you out of it for like five minutes!”

“I…uh…I…shit. I have no idea what happened. I was sitting here thinking about having sex with you in front of the fireplace, but it’s too creepy with that guy watching us. I decided to look at it closer. One minute I was checking out the carving, the next I was having some crazy-ass dream.”

Pieter raised an eyebrow. “You want to have sex in front of the fireplace?”

“That’s what you took away from that?” Rowan shook his head. “Not anymore.”

Pieter pouted. “Not even if I give you my best Puss-in-Boots eyes?”

“No. Seriously. Not here, anyway. Weren’t you getting pizza?”

“Yes, but then you brought up sex.” Pieter waggled his eyebrows. “But really, I’m worried about what happened. Maybe you have low blood sugar or something. C’mon. Let’s eat before it gets totally cold. Then we can have sex.”

Rowan rolled his eyes, then headed to the kitchen.

****

Rowan spent the next week unpacking boxes while Pieter went job hunting. It didn’t take long for him to find a job at the local nursing home. Registered nurses were in high demand. Rowan was able to work from home, which had made the move much easier for him. He was a botanist, studying the effects of pollution on vegetables commonly grown in suburban gardens—such as tomatoes, cucumbers, and zucchini.

Rowan was an avid gardener and loved surrounding himself with plants. He’d drawn up some basic garden plans from the photos Pieter had shown him of Oakhaven, and he couldn’t wait to hit the local garden centers and start planting once the growing season started. In the meantime, he was content with his large collection of houseplants.

Rowan always had a green thumb. Even as a child, he had a knack for nursing the plants his parents neglected back to life. He was the polar opposite of Pieter in that regard. Pieter said he could kill a cactus if someone gave him one, and those things were just about impossible to kill. So, he wasn’t allowed anywhere near Rowan’s precious plant life.

Between Pieter’s new job, unpacking boxes, working on his research, and settling in his plants, Rowan and Pieter hadn’t had much time to themselves over the following couple of weeks. Rowan wanted to change that, but unfortunately, it had to wait until he was past a critical juncture in his research.

“Got enough plants in here?” Pieter asked, laughing.

The tops of the bookshelves lining the tower room were a veritable jungle of every house plant imaginable.

“Well, I am a botanist. It’s not possible to have too many plants.”

Pieter put his arms around Rowan’s waist. “You’re working too much. You need to get out of this house. Let’s go for a hike. I want to try and find that stream we used to play in when we were kids. We’d look for salamanders under the rocks and splash in the pool by the waterfall.”

Rowan smiled. “It sounds wonderful, but I have so much to do. I need to finish the graphs for the most recent set of data. The deadline to submit my article is coming up a lot sooner than I want it to.”

“You seriously can’t take a break for an hour? C’mon, Ro. It’s important to me. I’ve been wanting to show you around ever since we got here.” Pieter pouted.

Stay away from the woods. Rowan shuddered and rubbed his arms as if he were cold.

“I know. And I’m sure the hiking here is amazing. But I’ve really got to concentrate on this.” Rowan kissed Pieter, then returned to his desk and resumed his work.

“Alright. Well, I guess I’ll start making dinner then.” Pieter scowled at Rowan’s back. Things were definitely not going to plan.

****

Something was wrong.

Rowan felt it with every fiber of his being. Pieter was worried, that was obvious, but he had no idea how to communicate what he was feeling. He couldn’t tell him what he didn’t know. There were two things Rowan was sure of, though: the house was safe, the woods weren’t.

He spent the majority of his time in the tower office working on his research. He threw himself into analyzing the data, sometimes working until all hours of the night. Sleeping didn’t provide much respite. The man from the mantel invaded his dreams nightly. Rowan avoided the front room as much as he could. He wanted nothing to do with the carving above the fireplace.

His dreams were the complete opposite of his experience that first night. The ent/man kept telling him he was in danger and to stay away from the forest. He would let him know when it was safe to enter. Rowan’s mind was flooded with images of walking trees, swaying branches, and vines reaching out to wrap around him like snakes.

Rowan hated snakes.

He also hated feeling like he was losing his mind.

Pieter kept trying to get Rowan out of the house, but to no avail. Rowan was adamant in his refusal. Not that he took stock in what the tree-man said, but he knew in his core being that going into the woods would be a mistake.

Illogical, he told himself in Spock’s voice. He wished Pieter would stop bugging him about it.

After a month, Pieter got fed up and decided to spend a weekend visiting his relatives. Both Rowan and Pieter were adopted, but Rowan had never really felt like a part of his family. His parents were dismissive of him, and his brother and sister treated him more like a distant cousin they didn’t like. When he turned eighteen, he moved out and never looked back. Pieter’s family, on the other hand, immediately embraced him as one of their own. Rowan loved them more than he ever loved his own family.

“I’ve got to get out of here for a few days. Maybe if I’m not here, it will help you sort through whatever’s bothering you.” Pieter sighed. “I want to help you, Ro, but you’re not making it easy.”

Rowan frowned. “I don’t need help.”

“Yes, you do. You look like shit, and you barely sleep. You spend all your time in your office. We haven’t even had sex in two weeks!”

“I’m tired,” Rowan muttered.

Pieter snorted. “Get some damn sleep when I’m gone. When I get back, we are going for that hike in the woods, whether you like it or not.” He stood and headed to their bedroom to pack.

Rowan raised an eyebrow. Seriously?

Before Pieter left the following morning, he headed to the tower to give his fiancé a goodbye kiss. Rowan acknowledged him briefly, then resumed staring out of the office windows at the forest canopy. That night, the dreams changed. The tree-man beseeched Rowan to enter the forest, which only confused and frustrated him further. What the fuck? First I can’t go near the woods, now I have to go—and now? Make up your damn mind, you stupid ent! It was the final straw for Rowan’s frazzled nerves. When he awoke, he screamed into the pillow and beat the mattress with his fists.

In the morning, he sipped hot, black coffee, his back against the kitchen island, and stared into the living room. He tried imagining Pieter as a small child, running around the place as his grandparents watched. He smiled at the thought. Although, according to Pieter, the house had been in his adopted family for generations, he seemed to know remarkably little about the house’s history, despite what he said.

The memories he relayed to Rowan were specific but vague; they could have happened anywhere. With the exquisite craftmanship of the place, the house had to be on the historic register of places. Or, at least, a history of the place in the town hall, or something. He ignored the persistent feeling he needed to go into the woods and headed into town instead.

The town clerk frowned when Rowan asked for information about the house. “The old Springfield place? It’s been abandoned for years. Why do you want to know about it?”

“Springfield? No, the Hansen place. And it’s not abandoned. I’m living there with my fiancé. His grandparents died and left the place to him.”

The middle-aged woman shook her head. “There’s only one place around with that provenance, and it’s the Springfield place. It’s been in that family since it was built over two hundred years ago.” She walked around the counter and gestured for Rowan to follow. She opened a door on the back wall, and they entered a room filled with rows of bookshelves, similar to a library.

“Pieter called it ‘Oakwood’.”

She nodded. “I’ve heard it referred to as that before. People around here call it the Green Man’s House, though.” She stopped halfway down a dusty aisle and removed a large tome. She bustled to the back of the room and set it gently on a wooden table. She put on a pair of white gloves, then proceeded to delicately turn pages until she reached the one she wanted. “There! This is a newspaper article written shortly after the house was built. It tells the early history of it.”

“Great! Thank you!” Rowan sat down and began to read. Nothing fit with the stories Pieter had told him. Maybe Pieter’s family was a branch of the Springfields, although there was no mention of Hansens. He snapped a picture of the page with his cell phone camera. He now knew who sculpted the magnificent carvings in the house: Aaron Springfield, the progenitor of the family.

Rowan stood and walked to the front desk, where the clerk stood, talking on the phone.

“Gotta go. Talk to you later!” She hung up and turned toward Rowan. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“I suppose, although it’s different from what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?”

“Well, I was told the house belonged to the Hansen family. That they lived there for generations and built the place.”

“Well, there was a Hansen family mentioned in the early history of the area. They had nothing to do with Oakwood, though. In fact, I guess you could say they were enemies of sorts of the Springfields.”

“How so?”

“The Springfields were preservationists. The Hansens were loggers, so threatened the sustainability of the forest surrounding the area.”

“Huh. What did you mean when you said Oakwood was known as the Green Man’s House?” Rowan wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

“So, have you met him yet?” Her tone indicated she was joking.

“The Green Man?” Rowan’s stomach clenched. Was that the face on the mantel?

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ve seen the carvings. Legend has it, the Green Man lives in the woods behind the house. They used to have the most spectacular gardens there before the last Springfields died in a car accident in the ‘90s.”

“I don’t understand… who is the Green Man?”

“He’s a Celtic god of plants and rebirth. Though, lord knows what he’d be doing in these parts.” She laughed.

“A Celtic god.”

“Yup.”

“In Vermont.”

She shrugged. “Well, it’s only a legend. You know like Sasquatch or the Loch Ness monster.”

“Huh. Ok…well, thanks for the info.”

****

“What do you know about the Springfields?” Rowan asked. Pieter was thrilled when his fiancé had called but now was silent. “The Springfields built Oakhaven, not the Hansens.”

“Where are you getting this from? And what does it matter?” Pieter asked shortly.

“It matters because you’ve been lying to me. What the fuck, Pieter? Why would you make this shit up?”

“I haven’t made anything up. My family has been a part of Oakhaven for generations.”

“When are you coming home?”

“My mom isn’t feeling well, so I’m going to stay a few more days. I’ll call you when she feels better.”

“I understand. Tell her I hope she gets better soon.”

“Will do. Love you.”

“You, too.” Rowan disconnected the call. Pieter was lying; he was sure of it. Whenever Pieter lied, his voice got slightly higher. But why would he lie about such a thing? Did he want to break up? Was this his way of putting distance between them? Rowan felt sick at the thought.

****

Rowan stood in the driveway, staring at the house for a good five minutes before walking onto the porch. He ran his fingers over the delicate branches surrounding the front door. Instead of entering the house, he slowly walked along the porch to the back of the house, then down to the pond. He skirted around the water and stood before the vast forest in front of him.

There was no discernable entrance, yet he felt a strong compulsion to enter. Despite his thoughts screaming at him to stay away, his body moved as if of its own volition, and the dense buttonbushes lining the entrance parted like the Red Sea, granting him access.

He tried to fight, willing his limbs to turn the other way and run out of the forest, but they laughed at him instead and continued to propel him forward. The forest was vibrant with new spring growth, rich with every shade of green imaginable. He trod on a carpet of white pine needles, decaying fall leaves, and soft earth. Sturdy oak and maple trees lined the way, as if standing sentinel, wearing a variety of different mosses on their bark. Bryophytes and ferns covered the remnants of rotting tree trunks, lending a damp and earthy smell to the forest. Rowan wished he could stop and inspect them. There were many rare species he’d only seen in books.

A chipmunk darted along a path parallel to Rowan, chittering and skipping from fallen logs to the forest floor as it ran to keep up with Rowan’s long strides. Another chipmunk joined it, then another, until there was a large group of the small rodents escorting him.

Rowan’s heart raced as loud crashing sounded to his left. Several deer bounded through the branches until they formed a single line, following a path parallel to the chipmunks. He looked to his right and saw the chipmunk army had grown, accumulating gray squirrels and brown rabbits in the process. A cacophony of bird calls made him look up. Through the occasional openings in the tree canopy, he could see a variety of birds following the strange procession from above.

What, am I in a fucking Disney movie now?

After what felt like hours, Rowan finally slowed down as he approached a small clearing. Unbidden joy flooded through him at the sight. He realized, shocked, this was the same clearing as in his dreams and the vision he had that first night in front of the mantel. Would he encounter the same strange tree-man?

Ents don’t exist. Tolkien made them up! Right?

As he stepped into the bright clearing, it felt like he crossed an invisible barrier. He was immediately struck by the silence. Looking around, he saw the animals had formed a circle around the clearing, staring into the middle, dead silent. He swallowed and turned toward the back edge of the clearing, looking for the oak tree, wondering if the tree-man would emerge.

He didn’t have long to wait. About a minute later, the now-familiar figure emerged from the oak and strode quickly over to him.

“What are you doing here? I warned you to stay away! It’s not safe!”

“I…but…I…uh…what the fuck is going on? Who are you? What am I doing here? I didn’t exactly have a choice!” Rowan blurted out.

The tree-man frowned. “Don’t you know your heritage? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

The feeling of returning home swept through Rowan. He ran his hand through his hair and huffed out his breath in exasperation. “I feel like I’m losing my mind. I was adopted. I have no heritage.”

“You have heritage, Rowan, whether you are aware of it or not,” Tree-Man countered.

“He’s telling the truth. He knows nothing of his lineage.”

The chipmunks, squirrels, and other small animals flattened their ears and hissed at the intruder. Bucks lowered their heads, antlers at the ready. The surrounding trees raised their limbs like swords.

“Pieter? What are you doing here?” Rowan frowned in confusion.

Pieter laughed. “It took you long enough. I was about ready to give up on you ever entering the forest. Then I came up with the idea to give you space, and it worked. Thanks for leading me here. I’d have never found Green Man without you.”

“Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Rowan shouted.

The Green Man moved until he stood slightly in front of Rowan, moving a branched arm in front of him protectively. “You will not harm him.”

Pieter grinned. “If I wanted to harm him, I could have done so any time over the past five years. I’m not here for him.” He reached behind him and withdrew a gleaming dagger from underneath his shirt. “Although I have no use for him now that he’s served his purpose.”

Rowan’s face paled. Why was Pieter acting like this?

“Rowan,” the Green Man said, squeezing his shoulder. “You are my son. You are the last of the Springfield line. They’ve been the caretakers of this wood for countless generations. Your mother, Amelia Springfield, was the only human I’ve ever mated with. You were the result. After she died, there was no family to care for you, so you were put up for adoption. I lost track of you after that but knew someday you’d come home.”

“Thanks to me. And now, I will have your power,” Pieter stated gleefully, raising the dagger.

“Who are you? Why do you want that which is not yours?”

“Killing you will allow me to open the gateway to Faery, so I can return from my exile and exact revenge on those who banished me.” Pieter’s eyes glowed red as his body became engulfed in flames, although his clothes remained intact.

“What the hell?” Rowan felt like the world shattered around him. First the strange Green Man invading his very thoughts, and now his fiancé was on fire.

“Salamander,” the Green Man stated.

Rowan stared, slack-jawed, at his fiery boyfriend. “What’s a lizard got to do with anything?”

“A salamander is a fire faery. Quite powerful and dangerous.”

“The town clerk said you’re a forest god. Can’t you, like, douse him or something?” Rowan’s voice trembled.

“Not before he does irreparable damage.”

Rowan’s eyes widened. Does he mean….

Rowan put his hand up in a stop gesture. “Wait…you’re telling me I’m the son of a forest god, and now my fiancé is a fire-lizard-faery?” He shook his head. “I’ve got to be dreaming again,” he muttered.

He flashed back to their first day at Oakhaven and the whole carrying-him-over-the-threshold thing. Pieter had asked him for permission, which felt more like a demand than a request. And the insistence at going into the forest—all of it was part of a plan to use Rowan. So his fiancé could kill his father. He looked at Pieter and finally saw him for the monster he was.

Pieter ran forward, balls of fire in each hand, right toward the Green Man. At the same time, the forest god raised his arms and muttered some words in a language Rowan didn’t understand. Pieter reached the wooden figure, flames shooting from his outstretched hands. The fire immediately engulfed the Green Man as the animals encircling the clearing surged forward to protect their guardian. Water shot up from the earth in response to the god’s spell, dousing Pieter, who screamed as the liquid hit his body, dousing the flames. Pieter’s features melted in a puddle of goo, and soon there was nothing left of the fire faery.

“Rowan….”

Rowan turned to his fallen father. The wooden man lay on the ground, charred almost beyond recognition from the salamander fire. Rowan darted to his side, unsure what to do.

“You must protect the forest, my son,” the Green Man wheezed.

“But how? This is all so new to me. I don’t know anything—”

“You will learn. Will you accept your duty?” he whispered.

Rowan nodded, tears forming in his eyes.

The Green Man’s form turned to ash, then rose in a gray cloud as if carried by the wind. As Rowan gasped, the ash entered his lungs, causing him to cough violently. He fell to the ground on all fours, then collapsed in a fetal position, screaming in agony as his body transformed into leafy branches.

When the transformation was complete, he stood shakily and inspected his new appendages. A small doe tentatively tiptoed forward, then nudged Rowan toward the large oak tree. He stumbled forward, lurching like a drunkard until he stood before the giant tree. The lower branches reached down and drew him forward, entwining with his limbs and merging them as one, much like his experience at the mantel.

Rowan immediately felt the soul of the forest course through him. The running streams, chittering chipmunks, and every species of tree and animal joined his soul in an intricate web he saw laid out before him. It was beautiful.

While he mourned the death of the father he never knew and the loss of his traitorous fiancé, Rowan also found the peace sorely lacking in his human life. He was finally home to stay.