The Witch's Call

**Chapter 6: The Hollow of the Heart**

Dara could still hear the whisper of the trees in her ears as she walked back toward Thornebrook. The forest behind her pulsed with a power she could neither deny nor fully comprehend. Elara’s presence was there—like a breath in the wind, a shadow under the moonlight. And with each step Dara took, it felt as though the village, once so familiar, had become something distant. Like a dream, half-remembered and fading away.

Her heart was heavy with both peace and sorrow, the weight of her friend’s sacrifice pressing down on her in ways she couldn’t yet fully express. She had found Elara, or at least part of her, within the land. And though she understood now that the girl she had once known would never return in the same form, there was comfort in the thought that Elara had not vanished completely. She had become the pulse of the earth itself—the roots, the wind, the quiet hum beneath the soil.

But as Dara made her way back into the village, her chest tightened. The sight of Thornebrook, its cheerful markets and laughter-filled streets, felt hollow in a way she hadn’t expected. The people of the village went about their daily business, unaware of the gravity of Elara’s transformation. To them, the world was healing. But to Dara, it seemed like an empty illusion, as if the land was thriving, yet something essential was missing. The warmth in the air felt somehow artificial, as if the land were pretending to be whole again, but it was not.

The harvest feast was still underway when Dara stepped into the square, the sounds of music and dancing washing over her. People clapped, sang, and shared stories, but Dara couldn’t bring herself to join them. Instead, she stood at the edge of the festivities, watching the happiness of the village with a heavy heart. It should have been a time of joy, and yet it felt like a celebration built on a lie. Elara was gone. The village had been saved, yes—but at what cost?

Aidan approached her, his brow furrowed with concern. “Dara, you’re back,” he said softly, as though sensing her discomfort. “You disappeared for hours. Where did you go?”

Dara didn’t meet his gaze immediately. Her thoughts were far from the square, far from the revelry of the feast. “I went into the woods,” she said quietly. “I needed to understand something.”

Aidan tilted his head, his eyes searching hers. “What did you find?”

Dara finally turned to look at him, the weight of the truth pressing against her chest. “I found Elara,” she said, her voice low but firm. “Or at least... part of her.”

Aidan’s expression flickered with confusion. “Part of her? What do you mean?”

“She’s not gone, Aidan,” Dara whispered, her eyes distant. “She’s become part of the land. She is the land now. The wind, the trees, the soil beneath our feet. Elara is all of it.”

Aidan took a step back, the joy from the feast draining from his face. “That doesn’t make sense. How can she be the land?”

“I don’t know,” Dara admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “But I felt it. She is here, in the very earth we stand on. She gave herself to save us all. To save Thornebrook. To heal the curse.”

“But she’s gone, Dara,” Aidan said gently. “Isn’t that enough? She made a sacrifice—one that saved us all. The curse is lifted. The land is healed. Can’t we move on now? Can’t we be thankful for what she did?”

Dara shook her head, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “It’s not that simple. You don’t understand. The land is healing, yes, but it’s not whole. There’s a part of it... a part of her, that’s still missing. It’s like the land is pretending to be whole, but it’s not. And we... we’re pretending too.”

Aidan looked at her in silence for a moment, his features softening with sympathy. He reached out and placed a hand on her arm. “Dara, I know you loved her. But she’s gone now. She did everything she could for us. She saved us all.”

Dara pulled away from his touch, shaking her head with a mixture of frustration and sorrow. “You don’t get it. You don’t feel it. Something’s still wrong.”

Aidan sighed, his expression shifting to one of quiet concern. “What do you want me to say? That we should mourn her forever? That the village should stop moving forward because you think there’s something more?”

“I’m not saying we should stop living,” Dara said sharply, her voice catching in her throat. “But we have to remember what Elara did. We have to honor her sacrifice. We can’t just... forget about her because the land looks better now.”

Aidan’s eyes softened, and for a moment, he looked almost as if he were going to say something more, but the sounds of the feast around them grew louder, and his attention shifted. “I just want you to be okay, Dara. And for the village to be okay. Elara wouldn’t want us to be weighed down by this forever.”

“Maybe not,” Dara said quietly, her voice trembling. “But I can’t let her sacrifice be forgotten. I can’t let her memory fade just because the land looks better. Not when I know the truth.”

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Aidan standing in the square, watching her retreating figure with a quiet sadness in his eyes.

---

Dara spent the following days in the forest. The more she walked the familiar paths, the more she felt Elara’s presence. But it wasn’t enough. The whispers in the trees had changed, becoming more insistent, more frantic. Elara’s voice, once calm and soothing, now sounded strained. The land was healing, yes, but it wasn’t whole. And neither was Elara.

She stood at the clearing where she had first felt Elara’s presence, her hands resting on the soft earth. The flower had bloomed again, its petals aglow with an ethereal light. Dara knelt beside it, staring down at it in silence. She could feel Elara’s magic thrumming in the air, the connection that linked them, but it was faint, like a candle flickering in the wind.

“Why can’t you speak to me?” Dara whispered to the flower, her voice breaking. “Why can’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

The ground beneath her seemed to tremble, just slightly, as though responding to her words. But there was no answer. No voice.

Dara clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms. She couldn’t just leave things the way they were. She couldn’t let Elara be lost to the earth forever, not without understanding what had happened. There had to be something she could do.

And then she remembered the witch.

The witch had been the one who had guided Elara to her final choice. She had known the cost of the magic, the price that had to be paid. Perhaps she knew how to complete the healing that had been started.

But where was the witch now? Where had she gone?

Dara stood slowly, the resolve growing in her chest like a flame rekindling. She had to find the witch. She had to know what Elara’s sacrifice truly meant and how to make the land—and Elara—whole again.

The land could heal, but Elara couldn’t remain in this half-life, neither truly alive nor fully at rest. Dara knew it now. She could feel it in every breath, in every rustling leaf. Elara had given everything to save the village, but the magic she had used had left a wound in the land—and in herself.

She needed to find the witch, to learn the next step in this journey. And perhaps, just perhaps, she could find a way to heal the last pieces of the puzzle—the pieces of Elara’s heart.

---

As Dara made her decision, she turned once more toward the forest, her path now clear. The weight of the world, of her grief and her hope, pressed against her chest, but there was also something new—something almost like a glimmer of light, guiding her forward.

She would find the witch. And this time, she wouldn’t stop until she had all the answers.