The bundle was heavier than Solan expected.
He stood over the stone circle. The vines had finished their work. Elian was no longer a body. He was a mound. A part of the cliff. The poppies grew thick around the stones. Red petals fell on the white chalk. Like blood. Like life.
Solan gripped the staff. It wasn't one piece of wood anymore. It was four. Ash. Birch. Oak. Willow. Bound together by vines that had grown around them while Elian slept. They were fused. Not glued. Grown. A single shaft of multi-colored wood. Grey. White. Brown. Green.
It hummed. Not a single note. A chord. Four notes. Harmonious. But heavy.
Solan was twelve. His arms were thin. His shoulders narrow. The staff touched the ground. It stood on its own. It didn't need him. But it waited for him.
"Are you ready?"
Th
