The Witch's Call

**Chapter 10: The Weight of the Land**

The days that followed were a blur for Dara. Time had become a strange thing for her, slipping past like a flowing river, unnoticed and swift, its current sweeping her farther and farther away from the girl she had once been. She no longer measured time by the rising and setting of the sun, or the passing of the seasons. It was the pulse of the earth beneath her feet that kept her grounded now. The rhythm of life, death, and rebirth played on an eternal loop, and Dara had become a part of it.

She spent her days walking the edges of the forest, her bare feet brushing against the cool earth, feeling the vibrations of the land as if they were part of her own heartbeat. The village was still there, just beyond the trees, but she had become a figure apart—distant, unreachable. The villagers no longer looked to her for guidance, no longer saw her as the girl who had once helped them through their struggles. They saw her as something else now—a guardian, a force of nature, a being beyond human comprehension.

At first, there had been whispers. Some had spoken of her transformation as a blessing—her magic, they said, had healed the land, had brought peace to their cursed village. Others, though, were more cautious, more fearful. They feared what she had become. They feared the magic that flowed through her veins, the power that bound her to the earth.

But it didn’t matter. Dara could feel their eyes on her, the way they watched from a distance, as if she were some strange creature. She could feel the tension in the air, the way the village itself had become uneasy, unsettled. They had given her space, respected her silence, but they did not understand. They couldn’t.

And neither did Aidan.

Dara hadn’t seen him again since that day in the clearing. He had gone back to the village, retreating into the familiar, just as she had retreated into the land. She wondered sometimes if he was happy—if the distance between them, between their worlds, would ever feel right again. But there was no answer. He had made his choice, and she had made hers.

A soft breeze swept through the trees, rustling the leaves, and Dara closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. The scent of the forest, of the earth, filled her senses, grounding her in a way that nothing else could. She could hear the whispers of the land around her, its secrets, its sorrows, its joys. The earth spoke to her now, in ways that words could never express.

“Are you at peace, Elara?” Dara whispered, her voice barely audible. “Are you really at rest?”

She felt the presence of her friend—her sister—surrounding her. Elara’s spirit was a constant, gentle presence in the back of her mind, woven into the very fabric of the land. Elara had given everything to save this place, and now her essence lived on in the trees, the rivers, the stones. She was a part of the world, as much as the sun and the moon.

But Dara still couldn’t shake the feeling of loss—the ache that gnawed at her insides. Elara’s sacrifice had been great, but Dara’s had been greater. She had become the land, and in doing so, she had lost herself. The girl who had once dreamed of a life beyond the village, a life filled with possibilities, had faded into the background of this vast, sprawling world.

It wasn’t just the loss of her old life that hurt—it was the weight of the responsibility that had replaced it. Dara was no longer just a person. She was the keeper of the earth, the protector of Thornebrook, bound to the land in ways that defied understanding. And that responsibility, though necessary, was heavy. The weight of the earth was more than she could have ever anticipated.

As the days turned to weeks, Dara found herself becoming more isolated, more distant. The village continued on without her, and while they had once relied on her guidance, they no longer came to her with their troubles. They had their own lives to live, their own stories to tell, and Dara could only watch from the shadows of the forest as they carried on.