She knew she had struck a nerve by threatening the forest itself.
Though they were of a darker nature, nature was still their life's blood. Finally they replied. "Your boasts are hollow, human. Such magic has not walked the Realms for centuries." Morgynn heard an edge of hesitation in their voices and noticed pale, red eyes blossoming like sick flowers from their trunks, looking her up and down. "You are correct. Power such as I claim is old and forgotten, a relic sought and rarely found." Laughter was their response, mocking her bluff and echoing through the forest like a swarm of insects and snapping twigs.
Morgynn smiled back at them, enjoying the moment and cupping a hand next to a small pouch at her belt. At a word of command the pouch responded, sending its contents into her open palm. She closed her fingers around the object. She held her fist forward, palm upward, fighting the trembling anger that hid behind her cool facade. Staring daggers into the trees, their pale crimson orbs regarded her curiously as they continued to giggle and chuckle. Opening her clenched fingers, she revealed an ebon object resting within them. The trees' laughter slowed and hesitation returned to their chortling voices as they beheld her prize. A smooth stone of marble it seemed, black as night, with lightning veins of ivory shot through its surface. What they could not see were the minuscule writing, ancient runes, and spells inscribed on its surface in ivory ink. All was written in a language long feared and considered taboo by the superstitious of the Border Kingdoms and Calimshan. It was the alphabet of the djinn, the ancient masters of the Old Empire that had stretched from the Shining Sea to the far edges of the Lake of Steam. Though the letters and meanings were invisible to them, the stone's power radiated like a cold sun, draining their mirth and sobering their attentions. "Do you know what this is?" Morgynn stared at the three massive oaks over the top of the black bauble. Though smooth and glassy, it reflected nothing around it, not even the brief flashes of lightning through the branches above. Their silence and trepidation answered her question as she stepped closer, bringing the stone's icy aura closer to them, letting its chill settle on their exposed roots, which squirmed almost imperceptibly, trying to sink further into the dirt, away from its touch. "It is called the Stone of Memnon. Do not be fooled by the ice in its heart. It carries the flame of the fire djinn, the efreet."
"Take it away!" The voices returned fully to their fear and Morgynn saw the foliage at the perimeter of the grove shifting and crawling, the razorvines and bloodthorns responding to the sylvan call of the oaks' inhabitants. Their crimson eyes disappeared, folding closed and melting back into the security of the white bark and the wooded flesh beneath. Sensing their intent, Morgynn called a sphere of force around herself, snapping the words of the spell out like a whip, just as the animated plants lunged, uncoiling their greenish black tentacles. They thrashed against the sphere's transparent surface and the grove grew darker as the living forest enshrouded the unbreakable magic. Only Morgynn and the three oaks stood within her sphere, with her threat still pulsing in the palm of her outstretched hand. "This tiny stone will shrivel your roots, bleed you dry, and reduce this forest to a wasted desert. This is the relic sought and rarely found, a sample of that old magic that ruled kingdoms and laid them to rest." Morgynn turned the stone over and grasped it between her thumb and index finger. "Shall I plant it here with you?" Only the serpentine wall of vines and thorns made any sound, creaking and rustling against the barrier, growing thicker and darker. Quietly, almost conspiratorially, one soft, dry voice spoke without the others, "Your tower will be exposed. Your threat still rings hollow." The other two voices hissed from within their trees, attempting to silence the third. "True, but I will be alive to deal with the consequences. You three will be dead, along with your oaks." Several branches moved then and Morgynn tensed, prepared to punish them again for further defiance, but the white limbs shifted, entwining in each other's embrace. Their horrible whispers were quieter now, directed at one another, the sound of dry leaves blowing in a winter wind on a barren field. As they conversed, the animated plants surrounding the grove retreated, falling away to their roots and shadows, resuming their passive roles and hungry waiting. A blood-thorn snapped behind her, ensnaring a screaming animal flushed out by the commotion. Its cries weakened as the thirsty plant drained its tainted blood. Sensing growing wisdom in the strange discussion between the pale oaks, Morgynn lowered her arm but still held the stone in her fist. She had no desire to drain the artifact at that moment. She would sooner destroy the three with her own power than waste such a treasure. Finally, a consensus reached, the branches untangled from one another and returned to their natural positions.
The pale eyes appeared again, shyly from behind the trees, hiding themselves as they once again spoke in unison. "We will comply. The pale sisters are at your service, but we keep our loyalty to ourselves." Morgynn smiled and returned the stone to her pouch, removing its chill from the already cool air. "A wise decision, ladies. Enjoy your forest for now, and hamper not my minions. I shall call upon you when the time comes." She turned her back on them and returned to the deeper forest, still wary of treachery but trusting her instincts. As her shell of force dissolved, the winds of the storm rushed back to life in the grove. The treetops swayed as fallen leaves mumbled and spun in the pull of greater forces.
"Elisandrya! Stop!" Rhaeme strained to be heard above the pounding hooves of the galloping steeds and the furious thunder overhead as they rode farther north. Eli had heard him the first three times, but had spurred Morningstar even faster. This time, though, she'd glanced back and caught his eye, banishing her attempt to pretend otherwise.
Reluctantly, she reined her tired horse to a stop, gripping the leather tightly and dreading what she knew would come. Rhaeme pulled alongside her with concerned eyes. Of all the hunters, she'd been closest with him, but like most of her relationships, it had fizzled from her own lack of commitment. She felt too much danger in being involved, being too close. She raised her voice to be heard over the wind and rain. "What is it?" He waited, looking at the other seven hunters who sat stoically in their saddles, puffs of steam rising around their faces. She had no desire to hear his arguments, but he was persistent and stubborn, much like herself. She looked up at him.